Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s half eleven at night on a Thursday, and Mike is trying to get ahead on his assigned novel for his literature class when Will finally gets home. He enters with a huff and a slam of the door, a move so uncharacteristic of Will that Mike snaps his head up instantly. He’s greeted with the sight of Will dropping his satchel to the ground and shrugging his denim jacket off in two sharp movements. He lets it drop on top of the bag rather than draping it over his chair as he usually would, and kicks his shoes off with two loud thumps against the wall, before finally dropping himself heavily onto his bed with a huge sigh. Will covers his face with his hands and lets out a long, dramatic groan.

Mike simply raises one eyebrow at him and waits for Will to uncover his face and look at Mike.

“Rough day?” he asks.

“Ugh.” Will groans again. Mike snorts.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks. He turns the page in his book loudly, to give Will an out if he wants it - such a display of emotion from Will isn’t typical, but the level of drama he’s put into it is what tells Mike that Will isn’t suffering too badly and just wants to complain. If there was a real problem, Will would be much more quiet and serious.

On the bed, Will huffs and turns towards Mike. His face is flushed like he’s stormed all the way up the four flights of stairs to their shitty shared room rather than take the elevator. Mike marks his place and closes his book, giving Will his full attention.

“So you know Justin.” Will says, rather than starting with anything that might make a little more sense.

“Uh…” Mike says. Will huffs again.

“You know, art history Justin.” he says. Mike just stares blankly. “Tall? Blonde hair?” Will tries.

“Oh!” Mike realises suddenly. “Flirted with you in the coffee shop Justin!” Mike’s not sure why that’s his association, but whatever works.

“Yeah, that Justin.” Will says. “Well, he flirted with me in the coffee shop again.”

“Oh! That’s… that’s nice.” Mike says, chewing his lip. “Why do you seem so mad about it?”

“Well, I haven’t told you the full story yet.” Will says. He shuffles about on his creaky dorm bed until he mirrors Mike’s lounging position. “So, I went to the campus coffee shop after my painting class and Justin was there.”

“Okay.” Mike says, frowning slightly. Will’s class ended hours ago.

“And he came over to my table and we started talking, just about class and stuff.” Will says. He’s starting to get more into his story now, words flowing more freely. “He was friendly and everything, and he was being kind of flirty, which I wasn’t really expecting but it was fun, and he’s handsome so I wasn’t gonna complain about him coming over either way, y’know?” Mike does not know. “We were having this really nice discussion about Renaissance-era sculptures, but the campus coffee store closes at like, 6, and it was 5:45, so he asked me if I wanted to keep the conversation going over at his apartment.”

“For real?” Mike asks. If he were Lucas or Dustin, he’d probably give a salacious little smirk right about now, but he wants to frown instead, for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint. He skilfully avoids frowning.

“Yeah,” Will confirms. “So I went to his apartment with him.” he says, making bold eye contact as if trying to transmit meaning through his gaze alone. That explains the slight pinkness of Will’s face much better than Mike’s idea about him skipping the elevator.

“Did you guys…” Mike trails off, lest his own cheeks become flushed. Will’s blush darkens a little as he nods.

“He invited me in for coffee, and he showed me some of his art-”
“Oh my god, did he invite you up to see some of his etchings?” Mike blurts out, unable to resist the joke, nor the smirk that splits his face. He’s immediately hit in the face with a pillow.

“You’re such an idiot,” Will says, though there’s a laugh in his voice. “He’s doing a project on Albrecht Dürer, so in every meaning of the phrase, yes.”

Mike grins at him, then furrows his brow.
“Wait, so you had a nice afternoon getting coffee and talking art with a hot guy, who took you back to his apartment for a hookup. Why were you so mad when you came in? That sounds nice.” Mike asks.

At this, Will sighs again, dragging a hand through his grown-out hair.

“He kind of… sucked.” Will confesses. Mike stares at Will for a long moment. “Argh, not like that! I mean, yeah, like that, but- oh my god, I hate you,” Will whines, throwing a stuffed tiger in the general direction of Mike’s giggling, but he’s laughing too. He doesn’t seem half as upset as he did when he entered the dorm, which is a win in Mike’s book, even if they’ve not managed to actually talk about whatever had upset him yet.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be serious. Serious hat on.” Mike says, once he’s restrained his laughter. “What happened? You threw your bag down like it had a bomb in it, you were pissed.”

Will sits up on his bed and crosses his legs underneath him, chewing the inside of his lip as he considers what he’ll say next.

“He was so bad in bed, and he’s not the first or second or even third guy I’ve hooked up with who was bad. But then the last guy I hooked up with who was good was a complete jerk. Like, total mouth-breathing asshole type of jerk." Will complains. "I just can’t seem to meet a guy who’s nice and handsome and knows what to do with his damn hands!” Will bursts out. “Or mouth, whatever.”

Mike’s jaw hangs open ever so slightly at Will’s bluntness, but his shock at hearing his best friend talk about sex is not relevant right now. Will’s been out to his friends and family for a number of years now, and he’s shared a shitty dorm room with him for almost two years now, so he knows Will hooks up sometimes. He hooks up way more than Mike does, which should be statistically improbable, because Mike is straight, but whatever. But this is the one topic they never really broach. Will must be incredibly fed up if he’s willing to talk about sex and relationships.

“It’s like it’s impossible for me to meet someone who’s got all three - looks, manners, and skill. The last guy I hooked up with was hot and he sure knew what he was doing, but it’s like he knew it, y’know?” Will is really getting into the swing of things now, talking faster. “Confidence is hot, but he was cocky and that’s annoying. If they’re good in bed, they’re just awful as people, which is a turnoff. Or I’ll meet a guy like Justin, who’s handsome and friendly and knows how to keep a conversation going, but get your pants off and it’s like getting head from a koi fish.” Will pauses his rant to mime the open-shut mouth movement that fish do. Mike’s vaguely awed at this side of Will. “And y’know, I returned the favour, I’m nice, but I didn’t even get to enjoy blowing him because he came in like, five seconds.” he complains. Mike is sure the room has gotten warmer in the last thirty seconds, and tugs at his collar where he’s suddenly feeling overheated. Will’s not looking at Mike - he’s gotten up and is pacing the room now, talking with his hands agitatedly.

“So now I’m super sexually frustrated because Justin sucked in bed and every other guy in town is bad too, or not attractive, or they’re total jerks. And I refuse to fuck a guy who’s a douchebag just to get laid. I’m not rewarding their bad behaviour.” Mike was getting fairly certain that Will had forgotten Mike was even there, before he suddenly whirls around and looks Mike straight in the face. “And they’re so weak about it! I swear, there’s two types of guy - they fuck way too hard and try to like, dominate you, which is really not what I’m into, or they fuck like they’re scared to break you.”

Will scrubs a hand down his face and flops down next to Mike on the bed, thunking the back of his head against the wall gently. He groans into his fingers, apparently finished for the moment. Mike swallows twice before he’s able to speak.

“So you’re… sexually frustrated.” Mike says dumbly. Mike is getting over his shock now, and starting to process the things Will has said, but his brain is clearly operating at a reduced capacity, because it keeps flashing him images of Will with random guys, looking dissatisfied and a little hurt. He wishes he knew how to help.

“Yes.” Will says plainly. "Very much so."

"Huh," Mike says eloquently. Will ignores him and keeps ranting.

“Not to be too graphic, but all I want is a nice, good-looking man who can fuck me hard.” He sighs wistfully, staring up at one of the posters they’ve stuck to the wall. Han Solo is front and centre. “Am I too picky? Like, ideally about six feet tall and he can lift me up, but that’s not a requirement. I want a guy who won’t treat me like I’m about to break, but isn’t going to be crude and mean, in or outside the bedroom. He’s gotta be rough when I want it - some of these guys just don’t know when to quit it. They hear ‘rough’ and understand ‘degrade me’ instead, they never ask what you like-”

Mike zones out slightly and half-listens as Will describes the type of guy he’d like to meet. He wonders suddenly how much weight he can lift and whether it would be sufficient to pick Will up - he’s not exactly beefy, but he’s not as scrawny as he was in high school either. He’s definitely taller than Will - not by as much as he used to be, but enough that Will looks up to meet his eye. Maybe if he was gay, he would be the type of guy Will might like.

“-and if he’s rude to his mom, or to wait staff, that’s the least attractive trait ever.” Will is saying when Mike snaps back to full awareness. He nods, trying to conceal his moment of inattention, but Will doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s venting his feelings, which Mike has learnt from his government-mandated post-apocalypse therapist, is very healthy, but Mike doesn’t feel healthy. He feels his stomach twisting itself up in nauseated knots, actually.

“So yeah, circling back to your earlier question, you could say I’m sexually frustrated,” Will concludes, a wry smile on his face as he finally finishes his rant. He tips his head towards Mike’s where they're both leaning against the wall, and shuts his eyes for a long moment. “It’s whatever, though. I’ll get ov-”

“I could help you out,” Mike blurts out.

It takes Mike a moment to register that he actually said it - like his voice acted independently of his brain. Will has frozen solid next to him, eyes wide open now. They stare at each other for a long moment, a heavy tension building. The room is so silent that Mike can actually hear the blood rushing to his face, matching Will’s steadily reddening cheeks.

“You- I- What did you say?” Will stammers. Mike squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, breathes, and then opens them again and meets Will’s gaze determinedly.

“I could help you,” Mike says, with somehow only the slightest tremble of uncertainty in his voice. Will just gapes at him, mouth moving in a way that’s uncannily similar to his “koi fish” impression from before.

“Help me as in…?” Will trails off. Mike has never seen Will’s face so red, not even when they were ten and Will split his pants in front of half their class at recess.

Whether he intended to or not, Will has just given Mike an out, if he wants it. Mike could have meant anything. He could lie, right now. He had no idea he was going to say that until he did, and he could still turn it around, backtrack. He could tell Will he meant he wants to help him find a boyfriend, help him choose his dates. He could skirt the truth that’s about to break through, and turn this into just an awkward misunderstanding. But that’s not who Mike is, not with Will. Sometimes, their childish rule about never lying to each other feels so deeply ingrained in Mike that he feels like he tells Will the truth before he even tells it to himself. Mike had no idea he was going to say that until it left his mouth, but now that he's done it, he finds that he's unwilling to take it back. He means it, and that's a surprise even to him. Mike squares his shoulders.

“As in, we could have sex.” Mike says. He knows his own cheeks must be bright red too, now, but he doesn’t look away from Will. For some reason he needs Will to know he’s serious. Instead of answering him, however, Will looks utterly shell-shocked. Mike gives him a second, then frowns. “Will?” he asks, waving a hand in front of his face. After a long moment, Will suddenly shakes back to life.
“You- you’re serious.” he croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Mike, you’re…” Will is clearly struggling for words. Luckily, Mike is the words guy in their friendship. He jumps in to help.

“A great friend? A genius?” he offers, giving Will what he hopes is a reassuring crooked little smile.

“A great friend,” Will chokes. “Right. Yeah.” he says, then bursts out- “Mike, you don’t want to have sex with me! You’re not gay!” Mike frowns. He’d say he hadn’t anticipated this response, but it’s not like he planned any of the last five minutes. Somehow, though, this still feels like an unanticipated response. Will is not supposed to look this stressed.

“I mean, I’ve never thought about having sex with a guy before, sure, but isn’t this the perfect solution to your problems?” he queries. Will looks like he’s going to combust again, so Mike quickly continues. “I mean, you can’t find a guy who’s nice and not horrible in bed, that’s the issue, right? Well, I’m nice,” he offers. He’s nice to Will, at any rate. “And I’ve never had sex with a guy before, sure, but I’ve never had any complaints before.”

This is true; Mike has never had any complaints about his sexual prowess from the whopping one girl he’s had sex with. He also didn’t receive many compliments either, and she did not offer to do it again, giving him a short kiss, a mildly condescending pat on the cheek, and leaving with a polite smile, but whatever. She didn’t complain, therefore Mike isn’t lying. It’s cool.

Mike flushes a little as he keeps going.

“Plus, uh, some sources would report that I am six feet tall.” he coughs, finally losing the ability to meet Will’s eyes. Inexplicably, this is what snaps Will out of his shell-shock.

“Sources would report?” he says, a tiny smile beginning to creep across his face.

“Well, y’know. I wouldn’t want to boast, or anything.” Mike says, a little shy now.

“Well, you’re definitely six feet tall,” Will begins. “And you’re always respectful to wait staff. You never treat me like I’m about to break,” he lists off. “Plus, some sources would report you’re good-looking,” he says with a wry little twist of his mouth. Mike’s chest twists oddly alongside it.

“Yeah, see? I could definitely be the right guy to help you out. I fit all the criteria.” Mike says, in a voice that’s more confident than he actually feels. Will’s smile has taken on a different edge - he looks like he knows something Mike doesn’t, and Mike is starting to feel like he’s standing in water with a riptide at his feet, pulling him towards something unknown.

“Yeah,” Will says softly. “You do.”

He edges closer. Mike’s mouth dries out, and he swallows thickly. He’s not sure when his hand landed on Will’s knee, but it’s there. Will looks down at it and does not remove it.

“This could change things between us,” Will says. His voice is low and serious and he’s not teasing anymore.

“Right,” Mike says. But things have already changed, from the second Mike offered himself up for sex with Will and wasn’t joking. There’s been a tension growing since that moment, building higher until it’s crackling between them like lightning. There's already no going back.

“And this is probably a bad idea,” Will says.

“Probably.” Mike’s even closer now. Will’s eye pupils are wide and dark.

“I really have been frustrated.” he murmurs. Mike doesn’t speak this time, just tilts his head a little as an invitation for Will to go on. Will pulls back slightly “But Mike, you-”

Mike feels oddly impatient. He can’t take any more of Will trying to talk himself out of this.

“Will?” he cuts him off, barely aware of how his face has drifted back in, mere inches away from his best friend's.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Mike says, and kisses him.

Will doesn't react at first, his mouth frozen underneath Mike's for long enough that Mike starts to worry that he's made a huge mistake. Just when he's about to pull back, however, Will's hands fly up to Mike's neck and drag him in. Will's lips fit perfectly against his and Mike swears he feels Will's tongue slide out before he pulls away, and holds Mike at arm's length. Mike can feel his lips tingling, can feel that his eyes have gone half-lidded. Will is staring at him like he's analysing him for a long second, then nods.

"Okay," he says, as if he's speaking to himself and not Mike. "Show me what you've got."

Mike grins widely and kisses Will quickly on the mouth, impulsively, before grabbing his waist. He hauls Will over and onto his lap in a display of strength he honestly didn't know he was capable of until this very moment. Will looks as surprised as Mike feels, cheeks flaring red. His mouth hangs open in shock, and Mike takes that as an invitation. He crushes their mouths together, and feels every nerve ending light on fire wherever he's touching Will.

Will seems to forget his shock pretty quickly, kissing back fervently. It's not how Mike expected Will to kiss - he assumed he'd be sweeter about it. He's not complaining though. It's thrilling. Mike's senses have narrowed down to nothing but Will.

They kiss for what feels like hours but is probably about five minutes, lips sliding together with a heat that just won't dissipate. Eventually, Will resettles himself in Mike's lap, and Mike's hands land on his hips involuntarily.

"What do you want to do, Mike?" Will asks. Mike has to shake himself, drawing his attention away from staring at Will's swollen lips. He doesn't know what two guys do in the bedroom together outside of what Will's told him, but he's starting to feel a little inspired. Truthfully, though, there's only one thing he wants.

"I want to give you whatever you want," Mike answers honestly. "Just tell me what you need and I'll do it."

Will looks nervous, at that, and bites his lip. Mike's very distracted by it.

"Don't say that, Mike," he says. "What if I want something you're not comfortable with?"

"Then I'll tell you that I'm not comfortable." Mike says, shrugging. He doesn't think that's likely. It's Will, after all. Mike leans in and presses a kiss to Will's neck. "Don't worry so much. We trust each other, right?"

"Right," Will murmurs. He kisses Mike once, twice, then lifts himself off Mike’s lap, standing between Mike’s legs to put a little space between them. He runs his hands down Mike's arms, settling his hands over Mike's where they rest on Will's hips. "Take my shirt off," he tells him.

Mike slips his hands under Will's shirt and slowly slides it up. Will's skin is so much softer and so much firmer than he thought it would be, hard muscle and bone underneath a thin layer of fat and skin. Goosebumps follow his fingers.

Mike pulls the shirt over Will's head and throws it aside. He takes a moment to look at him. It's not like there was any denying Will's maleness to begin with, but with his shirt off, there's absolutely no question about it - this is a man that Mike’s clinging onto right now. He’s got swollen lips from kissing, and red marks blooming on his jaw, and Mike’s the person that put them there. He has no tits to speak of, no curvy waist and wide hips. Will is broad shoulders tapering into narrow hips. He's slightly toned, with a light dusting of hair under his arms, on his chest, and leading down into his pants. Mike is struck with the urge to follow the trail with his tongue and see where it leads.

Belatedly, Mike thinks that a straight guy wouldn't feel his mouth begin to water at the thought of getting into his male best friend's pants.

He'll examine that later, though - he's a little busy. He's snapped out of his thoughts by Will's hands tugging at his shirt. He lifts his arms helpfully, then immediately replaces them on Will's body. Mike gives Will's waist a little squeeze, and cheekily rubs his thumb over one of Will's nipples. He doesn't expect the sharp gasp and twitch of Will's hips that follows.

"Jesus," he hisses. "Do that again."

Mike grins and does as he's told, then doesn't stop. Will is squirming and gasping in a way that's really, really sexy, and Mike absolutely has to kiss him about it. He attaches his lips to the corner of Will's jaw and gradually sucks down his neck, nipping gently at the skin there and trailing his mouth towards Will's chest. He replaces his fingers on Will's nipple with his mouth, and Will moans loudly. Mike feels his blood pulse throughout his body, and realises that he's hard, probably has been for a while. He tentatively pushes his hips into Will's - Will groans and presses down into it, then leans down and bites Mike’s neck. Mike chokes a little bit.

“You okay?” Will immediately says. Mike nods frantically and tries to haul Will in closer, to no avail - they’re already pressed fully against each other.

“Tell me how to make you feel good,” Mike begs. He ought to be embarrassed at how desperate he sounds, but all he can think about right now is what noises he can wring out of Will.

Will steps back, breaking the contact between them, and Mike makes an injured noise. Will surveys Mike from head to toe, eyes catching on his lips, his chest, and his bulging pants. He licks his lips.

"Lean back against the pillows." he instructs. Mike obeys him, settling himself slightly upright. “Pants off.”

Immediately, Mike’s hands fly to his belt, pulling it off so fast it makes a snapping sound. He shoves his jeans down and kicks them off, pausing only at his underwear.

“You too,” Mike croaks. Will nods.

“Right, of course.” he says, and then they’re both in their boxer briefs. There’s a little damp spot growing on the fabric of Will’s underwear; Mike doesn’t even dare to look at his own underwear; he already knows it’s gonna be worse.

Will crawls back over Mike, the full lengths of their bodies pressed against each other. Will kisses him again and Mike responds immediately, their tongues tangling together. One of Will’s hands twists in Mike’s hair, and Mike groans low in his throat. Nobody’s ever done that to him before, and it’s like Will tugged on a line leading straight to his dick.

“Sorry,” Will says, and lets go of Mike’s hair. Mike stares at him.

“What are you apologising for?” Mike asks in bewilderment. He grabs Will’s hand and shoves it back where it was. “Do that again.”

Realisation seems to dawn on Will.

“Oh.”

Mike is rewarded with another, harder yank, and this time whines rather pathetically. Will looks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He dives back into Mike’s mouth, then quickly makes his way down his throat, sucking and biting the tender skin feverishly. Will’s pelvis brushes against his, and Mike’s thighs involuntarily snap shut to trap him there. His own hips roll up, and Will’s fist tightens around Mike’s hair as they both gasp in tandem. Mike thinks it can’t feel any better, and then Will’s tongue reaches Mike’s nipple.

“Ah!” he cries.

Mike jackknifes off the bed, spine arching into the touch so hard it almost hurts. His mind is utterly wiped of all thoughts other than how he can get Will to just keep doing that.

“God, Will, please, don’t stop-” he’s babbling mindlessly. One of his hands has come up to cup Will's head, holding him to his torso to keep him from withdrawing his lips. His hips roll frantically up into Will, and Mike can feel that Will is just as hard as he is. Will scrapes his teeth gently against the bud in his mouth and flicks the other one with the pad of his thumb, and Mike lets out a sob of pleasure. Some distant part of Mike’s brain is aware that he’s lost control of the situation and is not doing a very good job of ‘showing Will what he’s got' but he can't possibly bring himself to care about that right now.

Will tortures him for a further five hours (possibly only thirty seconds, Mike’s brain has melted out of his ears) before Mike can’t take it anymore.

“Stop, Will,” he gasps. For some reason, Will immediately pulls back, stammering frantic apologies, and Mike kind of wants to cry. He grabs his waist, stopping him before he fully climbs off Mike. “Wait, no, don’t go-”

“You’re giving me some mixed signals right now,” Will says, voice incredibly strained.
“Sorry,” Mike says. “I just didn’t want to come yet,” he confesses. Will makes a strangled noise, but Mike keeps talking. “I’m supposed to be getting you off, not coming in my pants in ten minutes.”

He shuts his eyes - looking at Will’s swollen lips and flushed skin is too much right now. He takes several deep breaths, thinking of all sorts of gross things - grandma’s teeth in a cup, the Demogorgon, Hopper eating ribs - in order to pull himself away from the edge. Once he’s no longer in danger of imminent orgasm, he wriggles out from underneath Will. He utterly fails to suppress a gasp as his dick rubs against Will’s, but he manages to reverse their positions, pushing Will's (firm, surprisingly muscular) chest gently until he falls backwards. Will’s head hits the pillow with a soft thump.

“What are you doing,” Will chokes.

“My job,” Mike replies. “I said I’d help you with your sexual frustration.” He summarily yanks Will’s underwear down and off. Mike stills, staring down at Will’s newly revealed cock for a long moment. Will’s legs twitch as though he wants to close them shyly, but Mike gently catches them.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Will says gently. Mike shakes his head.

“I know,” he says, "You'd never make me do anything," he soothes, and then surprises even himself when the next thing out of his mouth is, “But I want to.”

Before he can overthink it, he wraps a hand around Will’s cock and takes it into his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Will gasps. Mike licks around the head in response. He’s never received a blowjob himself, and certainly never given one, so he’s working off intuition (he doesn’t need to experience a blowjob to know his teeth should stay out of it), advice from random gossip magazines, and one very graphic conversation he overheard between two girls in the library that he couldn’t bring himself to stop listening to. He’s starting to understand why he was so interested in that, now. Mike presses the flat part of his tongue to the underside of Will’s cock, trying to remember to move his hand a little and keep his teeth out of the way. It’s surprisingly difficult. Will’s making encouraging (sexy) noises above him, though, so he keeps going. He uses a little suction and bobs his head up and down like he’s seen in those movies on the rare occasions he’s watched one, and feels deeply satisfied at the whine it brings out of Will. Mike fits his tongue into the slit like he’s heard described in one of his mom’s romance novels that she keeps on the highest shelf, and has to resist a whine himself. He surprises himself with how much he likes that one. Will groans and spills more precome into Mike’s mouth, and Mike licks greedily, instantly weirdly obsessed with the taste of it. Will’s hand flies into Mike’s hair and pulls, and Mike groans. His lips momentarily slacken around Will’s cock, unable to focus on blowing him when his hair is being pulled. When his hair is released, he resumes, running his tongue up the length of it and swirling his tongue around the head, but that makes Will clutch at Mike’s hair again. Will’s cock falls right out of his mouth as Mike cries out.

“I can’t focus on sucking your dick when you pull my hair like that,” Mike pants once he’s recovered slightly. He looks up at Will at last. Will looks like he’s dying, and instantly pushes Mike’s shoulders up and away from his dick. He’s shaking his head. “What, what’s wrong? Was I bad?” Mike asks.

“I need you to fuck me now,” Will blurts out, then goes so red that his entire chest flushes. “Sorry, that was-”
“Yes.” Mike says instantly. “Yeah, I want that.”

Will makes another strangled noise.

“But just to be clear, though, was I bad at blowing you? Because honestly I kind of really enjoyed that, and if it sucked, metaphorically not literally, then I-”

Will shuts Mike up by shoving two fingers straight into his mouth. Mike instinctively starts to lick and suck at them.

“God, you’re going to kill me,” Will breathes. “You were really good at blowing me, Mike,” he says. Mike preens at the compliment, feels something settle inside him. “But now I need you to get my fingers nice and wet, okay?”

Mike follows the instruction, gathering as much spit as he can and pushing it onto Will’s fingers until Will withdraws them. He watches as Will brings his fingers down below his balls and rubs them over his hole.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I want you to fuck me, I’m getting myself ready.” Will says, which isn’t really an answer in Mike’s books. “Go over to my bedside table and open the bottom drawer.” he instructs before Mike can ask any more questions. Mike scrambles off the bed and across the room. “Good boy,” Will says. Mike actually feels his dick throb a little at that, and quickly shoves that in the ‘to be examined later’ file alongside how much he’d enjoyed giving that blowjob. “Now - ah - bring me the box of condoms.”

It takes Mike a second to find the box, and when he turns around back to Will, he sees that Will has worked one of his spit-slick fingers into his hole and is circling it with the other. Mike almost dies on the spot.

“Mike, did you hear me? Give me the box.” Will commands, one eyebrow raised. His breath hitches again. Apparently Mike’s current level of horniness is rendering him slightly stupid because it takes him another few seconds to shake himself out of his stupor and crawl back over Will. Will uses his free hand to pull out a condom and a small bottle, which he flips the cap off and squeezes a clear liquid out onto his fingers. It takes Mike’s horny-fogged brain much too long to recognise it as lube.

Will’s lubricated fingers slide into his hole much easier than with spit, and he quickly adds a second, then a third. He works himself open quickly, and Mike finds himself reaching out to touch without even realising he’s doing it. Will gasps gently as Mike’s fingers brush against his own.

“Shit, I should’ve asked.” he begins. Will shakes his head and squeezes some lube onto Mike’s fingers instead.

“Do two at first,” he instructs, and pulls his own fingers out. Mike hesitates for a moment, uncertain, but quickly slides his fingers in to replace them, and Will shudders. “God, your fingers are so much longer than mine,” he hisses.

“Is that good?”

“Very.”

Mike grins, and leans down to kiss gently at Will’s hip bones. He slowly starts to slide a third finger in, and Will rocks his hips down onto Mike’s fingers like he’s trying to get them deeper. Experimentally, Mike curls his fingers. He’s not expecting it when Will gives a sudden, wanton moan and rolls his hips madly.

“What was that?” he asks. He motions to do it again, but Will grabs Mike’s wrist to still his hand, gently pulling his fingers out.

“That was you doing a very good job, Mike. Get this on right now.” Will practically throws a condom at him, and Mike knows better than to keep asking questions. Will’s squirming on the bed, like he’s so turned on he can’t sit still, and he’s digging his nails into his thigh. It takes Mike a couple of tries to open the condom with his slick hands, but he eventually gets it open and rolls it on. He looks to Will for guidance, but Will’s way ahead of him. He grabs Mike’s shoulders and flips their position, straddling Mike’s thighs. Mike barely has time to react to their sudden change in position, just lets Will position him. Will drizzles lube directly over Mike’s cock and jerks it to smear the lube across the shaft, then slowly begins to sink down.

Mike’s brain fizzes and then dies as he realises Will is going to ride him, and then promptly stops being able to think at all - he’s completely overwhelmed by the sensation of Will’s tight heat sinking down around him. He lowers himself slowly but constantly until Mike’s cock is fully sheathed within him. They both go still, panting hard, with Will’s fingers digging into Mike’s shoulders and Mike’s hands clutching onto Will’s hips for dear life.

“Are you ready?” Will asks. Mike can’t speak, just nods. He’s not unsure anymore - he knows what to do here. His job is to fuck Will, and he’s determined to do it right. He rocks his hips up, as much as he possibly can under Will’s weight. Will groans lowly and starts to lift himself up on his thighs. He gets halfway before dropping back down, making them both moan in tandem. They work out a rhythm quickly - Will lifts himself up on his thighs, and Mike gets his hands on Will’s hips to help him rise up and down, and rolls his hips in time with Will. He admires the flex of Will’s muscular thighs, and wonders if doing this with other guys is why he always looks so good in shorts. He absolutely refuses to allow himself to think about the fact that his best friend of more than ten years is riding him into the mattress, because if he does, it’ll all be over immediately. Mike tries to distract himself by wringing more pleasure out of Will, running his fingers gently across his torso. Will makes the prettiest whines. He tries to play with Will’s nipples again, but Will slaps his hand away.

“God, if you do that I’m going to come right now,” he gasps.

Too soon, however, Will noticeably begins to tire, thighs trembling slightly, and losing speed. He whines in a way that’s less aroused and more frustrated.

“Are you getting tired?” Mike asks. “We can change positions,” he offers. Will nods, and raises himself off Mike’s cock with a hiss. He lowers himself back onto the bed next to Mike. Mike kisses him impulsively, once on the mouth and once, slightly longer, on his neck, before raising himself over Will. It suddenly occurs to him that there are two options here.

“How do you want it?” he murmurs into Will’s neck. “You could stay on your back, or…” Mike doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. It feels like too much to ask if Will wants to roll onto his front. Will does not appear to have the same concern.

“Front,” he sighs. “It feels better like that.”

Mike manages not to frown - he liked seeing Will’s face as he rode him, but this is about Will’s pleasure, so he nods and gives Will one final (slightly sloppy) kiss and lets him arrange himself. As soon as Will is on his front, however, Mike suddenly finds that this new position has other advantages that he had not previously considered.

“Have you always had this thing?” he wheezes.

“What?”

“I have been blind and foolish,” Mike says reverently. He can’t resist - he reaches out with both hands and squeezes Will’s ass. Will snorts.

“Oh, that.” he chuckles. “Go right ahead.”

Mike is way ahead of him. He squeezes again, marvelling at how nicely Will’s ass fits into his palms. It’s softer than he expected, fat over muscle, and it’s starting to flush with colour as Mike plays with it. He gives it a gentle tap, and Will smirks over his shoulder.

“Harder,” he says. Mike’s mouth hangs open dumbly. “Go on.”

Mike taps again, harder, and then gathers a bit of confidence to land a short smack to Will’s ass cheek. Will gasps at the stimulation, so Mike hits harder. Third time’s the charm; Will moans. Grinning, Mike smacks again, on the other side this time. The way Will’s ass jiggles upon impact and slowly turns red is nothing short of art, in Mike’s eyes.

“God, do that again,” Will groans, and so Mike does. He lands five more slaps on Will’s ass before Will is squirming and his breath is coming in fast hitches. Will reaches down and palms his own cock, then turns back to look at Mike over his shoulder.

“You can fuck me again now,” he says in a strained voice.

Despite how much Mike had been enjoying playing with Will’s ass, the level of attention he’d been giving to him had caused his own dick to soften slightly from the lack of stimulation. When Will asks Mike to fuck him in that breathless voice, however, all the blood in Mike’s body seems to rush there at once. He nods frantically, unable to form words, and gets his hands back on Will’s ass to gently pull his cheeks apart. He lines his dick up with Will’s hole and lets the head rub over it for a second, before sinking back in. Mike bottoms out with a loud curse; Will whines in pleasure.

“Do you need a second?” Mike asks, mistaking the sound. He pulls out slightly, and Will whips his head round to glare at him, looking extremely offended at the mere suggestion.

“I need you to fuck me yesterday,” Will snaps. Mike should not be into Will glaring at him like that, but it’s going in the ‘worry later’ pile just like all the other revelations he’s been having tonight. He’s determined to give Will what he wants, what he deserves; Mike pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in. Will keens, long and drawn out, and thrusts his hips back into Mike’s.

“Yes,” he sighs, and Mike buzzes with pride. “Just like that.”

Mike keeps giving Will those long, hard strokes. Some distant part of him registers the bed frame creaking loudly and the headboard knocking against the wall, but then Will rolls his hips in some terrible, incredible way and Mike doesn’t give a shit anymore. His own pleasure starts to coil inside his abdomen, but he’s not going to come before Will does. He whines, and grabs Will’s hips roughly, using his tight grip on them to pull Will’s ass closer and fuck him harder. Feverishly, he hopes his fingers leave bruises. Mike can’t look away from Will - he’s gorgeous, his face stained red and damp with sweat at the hairline. His eyes are squeezed shut as he bounces between grinding down into the sheets and finally getting some stimulation to his long-neglected cock, or thrusting back against Mike. His ass jiggles harder as Mike fucks into him, and Mike gives it another slap. Will sobs with pleasure and snakes a hand down to grip his cock.

“Harder?” Mike asks. Will shakes his head.

“No, just like that. God, you’re perfect, Mike,” he cries. “Don’t stop.” Mike’s whole chest squeezes with pleasure, and a warmth entirely separate to the burning arousal fills him from the inside out.

Mike doesn’t stop, maintaining the pace Will likes despite the increasingly overpowering urge to slam harder and faster into him in pursuit of his own pleasure. Will’s hand moves faster on his own cock and his moans crescendo into an unrestrained shout as he spills all over the sheets. The sight of Will coming apart like that is too much for Mike, and he follows him over the edge with a desperate, filthy noise that he muffles with a bite into Will’s neck. Mike collapses on top of him, just barely managing to fall to one side and not crush him. The two of them lie there for a long moment, pressed together and breathing hard. Will makes a soft groan of protest as Mike gently pulls out, messily tying the condom and chucking it somewhere near their wastebasket

“So,” Mike gets out once he’s caught his breath. “Was that okay?”

Will turns to face him and his eyes are half-lidded, face flushed from exertion. He’s pretty like this, Mike thinks, and then it strikes him that maybe this whole thing is more significant than he initially realised. Something glows inside his chest. Will smiles at him, though, and Mike wraps an arm around his waist on instinct.

“Yeah,” Will breathes. “That was more than okay,” he says, and then with a sheepish grin: “I’m gonna be feeling that tomorrow.”

Mike ducks his head despite the satisfied pride he feels at hearing that. “Sorry.”

“Mike, that’s quite literally exactly what I wanted. You don’t need to apologise.” Will chuckles. Before Mike can say anything else, though, Will simultaneously yawns and shivers as the sweat on their bodies starts to cool. The caretaker instinct suddenly hits, and Mike grabs his discarded t-shirt and gives both himself and Will a quick wipe. He reaches for the blanket from where it’s been kicked to the end of the bed and pulls it over them, and curls himself more closely around Will’s warm body. Will doesn’t protest, just lets Mike take care of him, and settles into the blankets. His breath puffs warm against Mike’s chest and one of his hands comes to rest against Mike’s stomach, which is doing a series of unexpected flips.

“Okay?” Mike whispers.

“Mmm,” Will hums. His fingers flex sleepily against Mike’s belly. “Tired,” he mumbles.

“Then go to sleep, baby,” Mike murmurs, not far off dozing off himself. He presses a gentle kiss against Will’s forehead and pulls him a little closer, and doesn’t notice when Will’s eyes fly open at the nickname. Instead, Mike falls asleep contented, with his best friend held securely in his arms.

- 

The next morning, Mike wakes up slowly. Will isn’t in his arms anymore, but the warmth of the bed tells him he’s only just left. There’s water running in the shitty little attached bathroom, and Mike can hear him rustling about getting his bag ready for classes. He stretches, feeling relaxed and languid after the last night’s exertions, and contents himself with listening to Will preparing for the day. He’s planning out what he’ll say to Will - he’s got a few minutes before Will goes to his 9am illustration class, and he wants to tell him all about the revelations he had last night with Will in his arms. He’s woken up strangely clear-headed, like the sleep had sorted his messy mental filing cabinets out for him. Mike is an overthinker, always has been, but sleeping with Will, curling up with him and holding him, kissing him and being kissed by him- it all feels so obvious now, in a way things never are to Mike. Two things have become instantly crystal clear.

The first is that Mike’s not straight. In retrospect, that was so obvious that Mike feels a little silly for not realising sooner. It explains why he’d always had such poor instincts in his relationship with El, and why he’d been so obsessed with Eddie Munson as a teenager, and why he was so unenthusiastic when it came to sleeping with Cindy - the one person other than Will that he’s had sex with. Even without those additional data points Mike would’ve come to the same conclusion, though. No straight guy sees his best friend’s cock and practically falls face first onto it.

The second, more pressing important realisation, is that Mike likes Will. Like-likes him. Will is the prettiest boy Mike has ever seen, and he wants to take him on a date, fall asleep in his arms and wake up spooning. That kind of likes-him.

Mike stretches his sleep-warm limbs one more time and opens his eyes at last. He sits up, and hears Will curse softly. Must’ve dropped something. Mike grins.

“Hey, Will, good morning,” he says, a smile on his lips.

Before he’s even finished the sentence, the door slams, leaving Mike open-mouthed and blinking in confusion.

Will is gone.

Chapter Text

The weather has the absolute audacity to be beautiful on the morning after Will has sex with his best friend (and the love of his life) and potentially ruins everything.

Will wakes up slowly at first - held gently but securely in a pair of slender, strong arms. Mike’s breath is warm on the back of Will’s neck, and their legs are tangled together. This is like something out of one of Will’s dreams, and he wants nothing more than to stay here forever, wrapped up safely in Mike’s arms, and wake him up with a kiss.

Unfortunately, this is not one of Will’s dreams, and he needs to leave right now, before Mike wakes up, realises he slept with his very male best friend, and freaks out. Will has never had sex with a straight guy before, but some of his friends have, and Will knows it’s never fun for the gay guy when they wake up and realise what they’ve done - or rather, who. He knows Mike would never physically hurt him, but physical pain is not what Will’s scared of. Will’s brain has crafted the scenario perfectly. He imagines Mike waking up and scrambling backwards like Will’s skin burns him. He imagines Mike’s eyes filled with regret and fear, asking him to keep it a secret, or giving excuses for what happened between them. Or worse, what if Mike were to wake up and ask Will to forget about it? Will doesn’t know what he’d do - how could he ever possibly forget? No, it’s better to leave before Mike breaks his heart like that. Mike doesn’t even know he’s holding it, it’s inevitable. Better to slip away with his dignity intact while he still can.

There is sunlight streaming in through the blinds they forgot to close as Will carefully, anxiously extricates himself from a sleeping Mike’s warm embrace. The birds chirp cheerfully as he rushes through dressing and grabbing his school supplies; his racing heart pounds out a frantic drumbeat to their song. He’s almost out the door when Mike stirs behind him.

“Shit, shit,” he curses quietly. He needs to be gone before Mike wakes up and freaks out on him. Will looks between the bed and the mirror. His teeth aren’t brushed, there are two small but obvious hickeys on his neck, and his hair is a disaster, but oh fuck, Mike is sitting up. He’s gorgeous, soft and sleep-warm, and Will’s entire body aches with the urge to crawl back into his arms and curl up with him.

“Hey, Will, good morning,” Mike says sleepily. His voice is scratchy from disuse and there’s a half-smile on his lips. His bleary eyes begin to open and focus.

Will panics. He’s out the door before he even realises he’s moving. It slams behind him before Mike can finish the last word of his sentence. He’s got his backpack hanging off one shoulder, toothbrush still in his hand, and shoelaces coming undone. He runs down all four flights of stairs to the common area on the ground floor where he finally stops to fix his shoes.
At 07:23am, on a Friday morning, there are exactly two other students in the common room, with most people not waking up until they absolutely have to for class. Both of them turn their heads as he rushes in. One of them, a guy who looks like he might be an athlete, takes one look at Will and smirks.

“Walk of shame on a Friday morning?” he drawls. Will scowls, cheeks burning, and flips him off. He exits the dorm building as soon as his shoes are tied and just starts walking. The air is crisp and cold, a perfect autumn morning; a cruel contrast when Will feels so wretched. He hurries along the pavement as though he’s got somewhere to be, despite the fact that he doesn’t have class until 9am, and the university buildings don’t even open until 8. His mind is whirling at a dizzying speed.

Will’s been in therapy since he was 12. He’s experienced in recognising the signs of an oncoming crisis, and how to prevent and manage them. Right now, Will is heading for an absolutely massive crisis.
He knows that what he needs right now is to talk to someone about this, but he just can’t. He can’t tell anyone because it’s Mike, and Mike is not only his best friend but he’s also straight. Even though he wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye right now, Will feels the need to protect him. Mike only slept with him because Will basically begged him to, so he’s probably not even gay, but it still feels like he’d be outing him if he talked it out with anyone. It doesn’t matter that Mike isn’t actually gay - in the eyes of the average straight person, sleeping with a man (or even thinking about doing it) makes you gay, no matter what your actual orientation is. Will won’t do that to Mike.

He runs down the list of his closest friends in his mind, and groans in frustration as he realises just how fucked he is. Mike’s so heavily intertwined with his life, and that’s the whole problem. Will can’t talk to Lucas or Max about it; he doesn’t even consider it for more than a second. He wouldn’t be able to lie and pretend it’s someone else, because Lucas is too close to them both, and Max knows Will too well. They both know that the only person Will could ever get this fucked up over is Mike. He can’t tell Dustin, because he’s miles away at MIT and there’s a time difference, but also for the same reasons he can’t talk to Lucas. He can’t talk to El about it, because she’s Mike’s ex, and yeah, they’ve been broken up for years now and they both agreed they’d be better as friends, but Will’s pretty sure that “your brother fucked your ex boyfriend and now he’s freaking out about it” is not a situation that any girl wants to deal with. And he can’t talk to Jonathan, because while he trusts that Jonathan would never treat Mike any differently for having slept with a man, he would treat him differently for having slept with Will. He’s still kind of frosty towards him from that awful spring break when they were 15. Plus, there are some things that are just too weird to discuss with your brother, and sex is first on the list. As far as Jonathan is concerned, Will lives like a monk, and he’s perfectly happy to delude himself that Jonathan does too.

So that leaves Will nobody to talk this over with but his own thoughts. This isn't going to be fun.

Will walks and walks and tries not to think himself into a hole. He walks for 25 minutes, taking turns at random, until he realises his feet have carried him via a winding route to the coffee shop close to the art building. He pushes open the door; a little bell heralds his arrival.

"Will!" a female voice calls. Will snaps his head to the counter - it's one of his classmates, Mari. He shakes himself a little - he had completely forgotten she works here.

"Hey, Mari," he greets. He hopes he doesn't look too stressed. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. You're my first customer," she says brightly, then narrows her brown eyes at him. "You look like shit," she says bluntly.

"Thanks," is Will's flat response. He pulls out a chair at the counter and buries his face in his hands.

"No, for real, you look a mess. Did you roll out of bed and straight into a haystack or something? Those are definitely yesterday's jeans. Plus, your hair is a disaster," she comments.

"Thanks, Mari, I can always trust you to lift me up," Will grumbles, but there's no heat in it. He knows he looks a mess. Will gives another dramatic groan before lowering his hands and meeting her eyes. "I've been having a rough morning." he sighs.

"Morning's only just started, sugar, how can it be rough already?" she asks. "What, did you try to run from a hookup and get caught or something?"

Will says nothing, but his cheeks burn tellingly. Mari's jaw drops, a grin spreading slowly across her face.

"Oh my god, you did!" she gasps. "Wait, that's a hickey! Oh my god, did you hook up with a vampire?"

Will slaps her hand away from where it's poking at his neck.

"Shut up!" he hisses, as if it matters - there's literally nobody else in the cafe. "I didn't get caught running from a hookup!" He didn’t get caught by his hookup, anyway.

"But there was definitely a hookup. And you did run from it." she deduces, looking smug. Will drops his head onto his folded arms.

"Yeah," Will sighs. "I did."

Mari frowns.

"Okay, what’s got you all messed up? Normally when you have a good hookup you're dying to tell me about it, since for some reason you're weird about talking about them with your nerd friends-"

"Hey."

"You know it's true. So what's the problem?"

Will bites his lip and begins to turn it over in his head, and Mari knows him well enough to stay silent, letting him work up to it. He takes a second to think it over. He can't tell any of his friends about this. He definitely can't tell his family. And he absolutely certainly cannot talk it out with Mike. But it’s really eating him up, right now, and talking to Mari… it might work. They're about as close as Will gets with people who haven't seen him writhing in a field being tormented by a shadow monster. She's met Mike, but she doesn't really know him, or any of his friends. She's a lesbian, so she wouldn't be weird about the gay aspect. And she won’t bullshit him. That’s crucial.

Will sighs again.

"Okay, fine. But I need coffee for this." Will says. He's stalling and he’s completely aware of it, but it's still annoying when Mari says:

"You're stalling. However, I'm feeling magnanimous today."

She busies herself with the coffee maker, and Will pretends to be incredibly interested in tearing a napkin to shreds. He takes a deep breath.

“I slept with my roommate.”

There’s a loud hiss of steam and a clatter and Mari knocks over a (fortunately closed) milk jug.

“You slept with your roommate? Mike, your roommate?” she squawks. “Your straight best friend roommate?”

“Jeez, Mari, wanna say that any louder? I think there’s a couple of the penguins at the South Pole that didn’t catch that.” Will snaps. He tugs at his hair, stressed. “Yeah, who else? It just kinda… happened.” he sighs.

“Rewind,” Mari says. “Sex with your roommate does not just happen. Start from the beginning, Will,” she commands. She does, however, slide a strong cup of coffee towards him. Will takes a sip gratefully and vaguely wishes it was something stronger.

He starts from the beginning, just as she asked. He tells her about his bad hookup, about coming home and complaining about it, about Mike listening to his rant, and Mari doesn’t interrupt.

“I was getting really into my rant, talking about how I wish I could find a nice, handsome guy who doesn’t suck at giving head or try to push me around in a way I didn’t ask for, and then Mike just…”

“He what?” Mari prompts him.

“He said, ‘I could help you.’” Will says. Mari’s jaw drops again. “And I didn’t even register what he meant, so I asked him what he meant, and he said he could have sex with me to ‘help me out,’” Will makes air quotes with his fingers.

“Did you?” Mari asks, both intrigued and excited.

“Did we what?”

She slaps his arm. “Did you have sex, dummy?” She makes a very rude hand gesture. “Or was it like, blowjobs and stuff.”

Will can’t keep the colour from rising to his cheeks. “Both.” he admits.

“Damn Byers, you really showed him what you got!” Mari crows. Will cringes a little as she unknowingly uses exactly the same wording Mike had used last night and it propels him into honesty.

“Actually, he blew me.” Will confesses. Mari looks surprised but excited once again. “He just… went for it. So I asked him to fuck me.” Will knows his face is absolutely scarlet right now. Mari gives a low whistle.

“Nice. So, apart from the awkwardness of having sex with your roommate, what’s got you so stressed?”

“He’s straight, Mari!”

Mari actually laughs. “He sucked your dick and fucked you so good you saw stars, that’s not what I’d consider heterosexual behaviour,” she says.

“I didn’t say he was good,” Will tries to deflect.

“I have eyes, honey, he fucked you hard.” she says bluntly. Will tries to hide his face again. “I repeat, that’s not a straight thing to do.” But then her face gets much more serious, and suddenly he feels like he’s made a mistake, telling her all this, because she’s going to get to the root of it and he’s not going to be able to get out of it. Mari never bullshits him, and she never falls for his deflection. She keeps talking.

“Besides, a roommate hookup is awkward, but you’re really freaked out,” she says. Her wide brown eyes feel like they’re staring into his soul, and she gently takes hold of his hands. “What’s actually wrong, Will?”

There are two deep, secret truths of being Will Byers that nobody else, not even Jonathan, has ever been privy to.

The first is this; Will has known that he’s in love with Mike Wheeler since the first day he knew what love was.

The second; about half of his mental energy since that day has been devoted to making sure Mike never, ever finds out.

Sometimes Will thinks he could've been a Nobel-prize winning scientist or something if he didn't have to devote so much of his brain space to hiding his feelings. When he was a teenager it was consuming - constantly second guessing the way he looks at Mike, the way he looks at everyone else, comparing the two, telegraphing the way he acts around Mike vs everyone else; the list went on and on. He’s never said either of these things out loud; the few people who know, only know because of their own powers of observation combined with Will's early, failed attempts at concealing his feelings - Jonathan and Max, mostly, but he's pretty sure his mom and his other friends have strong suspicions.

Nowadays the concealment is a routine, and Will is used to it. He's better at hiding it, to the point where some people don't notice at all. Living with Mike was a test, at first. Will assumed Mike's allure would decrease with exposure, which unfortunately turned out not to be true, but Will did get much more practised at hiding the breathless affection that sometimes strikes into his chest at the mere sight of Mike's smile. Even Mike’s gross habits are weirdly endearing to him. That’s how Will knows he’s totally, utterly, permanently fucked.  

But maybe it’s okay to tell one person, let it all out for once. Will takes a deep breath, and breaks his decade of silence.

“I love him,” Will confesses. The words come out in a cracked whisper. Mari doesn’t look shocked, just half-smiles at him sympathetically. “That’s why this is messing me up so much. I’m in love with him, I always have been, and at this point I’m pretty sure I always will be.”

Slowly, the full story comes out. It’s a long one - Will has known Mike for a very long time, and loved him for a long time, too. Will omits everything that involves monsters, alternate dimensions or superpowered sisters, but slowly, he tells Mari everything. She doesn’t let go of his hand, and Will’s grateful for it, because he feels like she’s the only thing tethering him to the earth right now.
Will tells her how Mike has been his best friend since age 5, and how at age 12 Will realised he was looking at Mike the way he was supposed to be looking at girls, and how at age 14 Will realised, as he drove away from everything he’d ever known and moved to California, that his feelings were more than just a stupid crush.
He tells her about how Mike had been obsessed with his sister for years, and how they’d broken up with vague explanations of not being right for one another, and how sometimes, after Mike and El broke up, he thought that Mike might be looking at Will the same way Will looked at him, but then a week later Mike would be on a date with some random pretty girl.
Will tells her how he had come out officially, and dipped his feet into the gay scene here at their college, and tried to date a few guys to finally get over Mike. It hadn’t worked, but sleeping with them was fun enough, until it wasn’t satisfying him right anymore. He talks until he really needs to leave or else he’s going to be late for class, but Mari sits his ass right back down and tells him to keep talking. Will doesn’t protest too much - this is the first time he’s ever gotten any of this off his chest.

“I had another unsatisfying hookup right before I came home last night,” Will tells Mari. “Long story short, he was bad, and Mike… well, you know this part, I told you when I came in.” he shrugs. “We had sex.”

Mari finally releases Will’s hands, looking a little stunned.

“Mari?”
“Hold on, I’m processing,” she says, staring into the middle distance. She begins making another coffee as if she’s on autopilot, like doing something with her hands will help her sort through everything she’s just heard. It takes her two and a half minutes - Will counts them anxiously on the clock behind her - to make a black coffee, add a splash of milk, then take a long sip. She takes another, then finally looks back at Will, with an odd look in her eyes.

“What happened after you had sex with him?” she asks abruptly.

“What?”

“I’m working on a theory. What happened?”

Will scrunches up his face, trying to remember the exact details she’s sure to press him for. His mind was a little hazy at the time.

“We fell asleep together,” he finally answers.

“In the same bed? Cuddling?” she presses. Will can only nod, feeling embarrassed. “Cute,” she says. Her smile is both genuine and teasing, Will doesn’t know how she’s doing it. “So, why did you leave this morning? I’m guessing he hadn’t woken up yet.” she asks.

“I don’t know, I guess I just… didn’t want to see his reaction when he realised he’d slept with his male best friend,” he cringes at the very thought. “I just knew it would be awkward, and he literally said he'd never thought about having sex with a guy before. I couldn’t bear it if he woke up and…" Will flounders, looking for words.

"If he woke up and no-homo'ed you?" Mari offers. Will makes a sound of vague agony, but nods.

"Exactly. So I just… I saw him start to wake up and I panicked." Will shrugs miserably. "I ran."

"Oh, Will," she sighs.

At that moment, a customer comes in and orders a latte. Mari begins serving her, and Will sinks into his thoughts, sifting through his memories of last night. He twitches.

“He called me baby,” Will suddenly recalls. Mari snaps her head up.

“When?”

“Uh… afterwards,” he says meaningfully, trying not to give anything away to the stranger waiting for her latte. He's entirely unable to keep the blood from his face.

The customer looks up from the noticeboard she’s idly staring at and stares at them for a long moment. Will blushes deeper. Mari gives her the drink and practically shoves her out the door. She’s staring daggers into the OPEN sign hanging in the door.

“If you turn that sign around just to have more time for my gay crisis, you know your manager will kill you,” he advises.

“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps. “He called you baby?” Will just nods, helplessly confused.

Mari takes a deep breath and steeples her fingers. Another customer tries to come in, and she glares at him so sharply that he turns right back around to seek caffeine elsewhere.

“Will, honey,” she begins, and Will cringes. Nothing good comes of Mari calling people honey. It usually means she’s about to ruin your worldview. “He offered to fuck you, he blew your mind, then he called you baby after he came and all the hormones were gone, is that right?” she asks. Will nods wordlessly. “I thought so. Jesus, this changes everything. And then he cuddled you to sleep. Am I correct?” He nods again.

“How does it change everything?” Will asks, hoping in vain that he doesn’t sound as anxious as he is.

“Honey, he’s into you,” she says bluntly. “He’s probably in love with you - no, don’t look at me like that. You came home upset because everyone in this town is a bad lay and his solution was to fuck you right himself. That’s not what a straight best friend does,” she says simply. “He’s not straight, and he doesn’t want to just be your best friend. I bet if you go home right now, he’s probably in there thinking exactly the same thing.” Mari explains.

“Wh- I can’t go back there!” Will splutters. “I can’t talk to him right now, he’s going to hate me!”

“No he’s not. He’s probably very confused and upset, but I guarantee it’s not at you.”

Will stares down at the table, swirling the dregs of his coffee.

“I just… I feel like I made him feel like he had to,” Will mumbles. “Not that I forced him, but like I begged him or something, by being so whiny about other guys being awful.” he groans. Mari looks like she’s about to protest, so Will keeps talking. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I can’t help feeling like he just did it because he felt pressured, because I was upset.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Mari swats him in the side of the head. Will yelps.

“Don’t be a moron,” she says. “You know him better than I do, so tell me - does Mike normally do things he doesn’t want to do?”

Will is silent, because the answer would prove Mari right. Mike does a lot of things for Will. He’s always helping him find library books, helping him fold his laundry, and other mundane tasks that Will hates - but he always offers. Mike cannot be told to do something he doesn’t want to do. But it’s more than just that - Mike has stayed up countless times with Will after he’s had nightmares. He’s told off more than one would-be homophobic harasser. He always listens to him vent about classes, his occasional family drama, everything.

 When Will adds all these pieces together and divides them by his own assumptions, he doesn’t get the answer he thought he would. Will’s frightened image of losing Mike forever doesn’t hold up under the slow, logical analysis that he’s just been made to do.

 Will knows his face is giving his thoughts away. He can’t bring himself to speak again, but it’s enough of a response for Mari. She smirks.

“I thought so. Now get out of my cafe, you’re scaring off all my customers with your moping,” she ribs him. Will rolls his eyes as three customers walk in, chattering loudly.

“They’re terrified,” he deadpans. He stands up and grabs his bag - his first class of the day is definitely not happening, given that it’s ending in fifteen minutes - but he can definitely make it to the second. Will slings the bag over his shoulder, and bites his lip. “Can I crash on your couch tonight, though?” he asks. Mari folds her arms sternly. “I promise I’ll talk to him! I just need one day,” he rushes.

“Okay, fine,” she sighs. “But you owe me,” she says, and begins taking orders.

Will leaves the coffee shop feeling lighter, but still stressed. He runs through sex with Mike and his conversation with Mari and tries the puzzle pieces a hundred different ways inside his head, and he keeps coming to a conclusion that he knows can’t be true. Will has never let himself hope that Mike might return his feelings. It was painful enough to be in love with him; knowing reciprocation was impossible was the only thing that made it bearable.

However, one thing Will has never been able to do is lie, not even to himself. His life as a closeted teenager in rural Indiana would’ve been a lot easier if he could, but Party Rule Number One is cemented into his heart as much as his feelings for Mike. He knows, now that the panic is subsiding slightly, that he didn’t pressure Mike. He didn’t make Mike do something he didn’t want to do, because when Mike says he wants to do something for his friends - for Will - he’s genuine.

“I could help you out,” is what Mike had said. And then he’d doubled down on it. Twice. And then Mike kissed him.

With a clearer head, Will can see past his anxiety enough now to recognise that one plus one does not equal three; all of these actions together mean that Mike wanted to kiss him. Mike wanted to fuck him. Mike was the one who kissed him first, and he didn’t just kiss him like he wanted Will - Mike kissed him like he meant it, like he was absolutely loving it.
When Mike had told Will he wanted to do whatever would make him feel good, he had meant it. He had slid his fingers inside and kissed Will’s hips, sucked his dick and loved it, then pressed him into the mattress and fucked him better than he’d ever been fucked before, and he had enjoyed it.

Objectively, this is not a very heterosexual thing for him to do. Which means that Mike, whether he’s aware of it now or not, is not straight.

Will almost walks into a lamp post. Mike likes boys.

And then a cruel, bitter little part of his brain whispers to him, That doesn’t mean he likes you.

This thought, more than any other, is what stops Will in his tracks right outside the library. He has to lean against a wall for a second, drops his head into his hands and takes a deep breath.

Will’s entire ability to deal with Mike not liking him back was based on the foundation of Mike not being gay. The idea that Mike might actually have liked boys this whole time, and just specifically didn’t like Will is too much to bear. Will squeezes his nails into his palms, trying to stop himself from getting overwhelmed again.

“Will?” a horrifyingly familiar voice calls his name. Will lifts his head up.

Mike Wheeler is standing in front of him. He’s upsettingly beautiful in the crisp autumn air. He walks closer to Will, jogging the last few steps, and smiles at him.

A detached part of his brain registers that Mike’s smile is absolute proof that he’s not mad, and that Will didn’t push him, but something about his smile is a little off. He looks a little anxious, if Will looks closely, and Will can’t deal with this right now. He’s doing anxiety just fine all by himself.
“Uh,” Will says eloquently.

“Hey, Will,” Mike says. “You left kinda fast this morning, but, uh,” Mike bites his lip. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

It’s only because Will has trained himself to keep eye contact with Mike rather than stare at Mike’s mouth that he notices the quick, up-and-down glance Mike is giving him as he says this. In fact, his eyes are darting everywhere over Will - lingering particularly on the hickey on his neck, and on his belt. He’s definitely, undeniably attracted to Will.

Will feels something twisting in his stomach. His friends have talked about their experiences with “straight” guys who are actually closeted gay guys, who will check you out and fuck you and then blank you in public. Mike would never do that, but by all logic, Mike should be ducking his head and avoiding eye contact, ready to rush through an awkward acknowledgement of what they did.

Mike’s not avoiding eye contact, though. He checks Will out in a series of darting glances, wets his lips, and then looks him right in the eye. He looks nervous, but determined.

“Uh, sure. What did you wanna talk about?” Will isn’t sure how he manages to keep his voice so even as he speaks.

“So, about last night-” Mike begins, then is cut off by a huge group of tourists bustling by. As soon as they’re gone, he opens his mouth again, and is immediately stopped by an ambulance wailing past. He scowls in frustration. Will would find it cute if he wasn’t so anxious right now. “Okay, maybe we should head inside for this,” he says, darting his eyes around again, this time at the large number of people on the street outside the library. He grabs Will’s wrist without giving him time to answer and drags him through the doors.

The library lobby is neither silent nor particularly studious. The quiet floors and all the books are kept upstairs, and the lobby is a big, open space full of lockers on one side, a set of bathrooms on the other, and an information desk in the centre, and Mike drags him to the lockers and weaves through them until he finds an aisle that’s unoccupied.

“Okay, so about last night-” Mike starts again.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Will blurts out. He knows he couldn’t bear it if the next words out of Mike’s mouth are anything to do with regret or mistakes, but Mike doesn’t look like he thinks he made a mistake. The way he had stared at Will’s lips and neck were the opposite of regret. But if Mike says he wants to do it again? If Mike proposes a casual, friends with benefits, no strings attached type situation? Will knows he will never recover.

Mike just frowns.

“Don’t have to say anything about what?” Mike asks, confused. Will flounders for a moment.
“About uh. You know. Anything.” Will tries. He really wanted to avoid this conversation until at least tomorrow; he’s not ready for it to happen now.

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Mike says, lips jutting into a slight pout. Will feels guilty at the sight of it; Mike hates being cut off, but Will couldn’t help it.

“Sorry,” he says automatically, even though he really doesn’t want to know what Mike is going to say next. “I just… uh.” He runs out of words, and Mike’s frown deepens a little into visible concern.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks.

Will just nods mutely. The alternative is telling Mike exactly what’s stressing him out, and that is simply not an option.

“Okay, uh, if you’re sure,” he says. Mike looks like he doesn’t really believe him, but gets back to what he was saying anyway.

He clears his throat slightly. “So, you kinda ran out this morning, but I had something I wanted to tell you,” he begins. “I’ve never really thought about it before, but after… y’know, everything,” Mike emphasises the word, “It just kinda hit me that like, whoa, this would explain so much, y’know?”

Will is slightly baffled, and it shows on his face.

“Mike, that sentence didn’t have any information in it,” he says gently.

Mike looks a little flustered. He ducks his head sheepishly, and tries to explain himself. “What I’m trying to say is that I realised a few things after last night,” he says, a little more slowly. Will doesn’t dare to breathe, but his curiosity moves his mouth without his consent.

“Like what?” he croaks. Mike’s cheeks begin to colour.

“I, uh,” he starts. “Shit, this is harder to say out loud than I thought,” and oh god, Will knows that feeling. Mike visibly braces himself, then looks Will in the eyes.

“I like boys,” Mike says.
The tone of his voice is quiet, so as not to be overheard by any potential eavesdroppers, but it doesn’t waver. He’s so sure of himself, shoulders squared and voice steady. Part of Will is absolutely bursting with pride for Mike - the other half remains locked in its spiral of anxiety, terrified of what’s sure to come next. Mike likes boys, it doesn’t mean he likes you has been repeating like a mad mantra in the back of his skull ever since he laid eyes on him outside. It feels a little like being ripped in half.  

Will throws his arms around Mike anyway, pulling him into a tight hug, just like his own mother had done when he came out to her.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers into Mike’s hair. He’s barely able to restrain the urge to press a kiss into it, catching himself at the last second.

This is more dangerous than I thought, he realises. Mike officially confirming that he likes boys has destroyed Will’s defences, his years of training himself to hide his feelings. He’s never going to be able to act normal around Mike now, and Mike’s going to know. Will already rolled a 20 on Mike wanting to have sex with him. There’s no possible way he could roll another 20 on Mike wanting to date him. He needs to get out of here right now.

“Thanks,” Mike whispers back, squeezing him tight. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I mean, you’re my best friend, I had to tell you first,” he says. His voice is so full of genuine passion that it hurts. “I was gonna tell you this morning, but you left right as I woke up,” he says. Will hides his wince in Mike’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he murmurs again.

“Stop saying sorry,” Mike says automatically. He gently pulls back from their hug to look Will in the eyes again. They’re so close together. “Like I said, I realised a few things last night, and it just all made sense this morning. I really liked what we were doing,” he says. His cheeks burn redder as he continues. “I mean, really liked it.” he says bashfully, rubbing at the back of his neck. His eyes drop to Will’s lips again before he pulls them back up.

“And uh, let’s just say it wasn’t like that when I was with girls before, so I kinda realised that probably means something, y’know? How much I liked doing that with you. And you’re a guy, so uh. Yeah. Boys.” he runs out of steam, overwhelming himself with too much emotional openness all at once. He takes a breath in and out to ground himself.

What Mike is saying is so painfully close to what Will wants to hear. The narrowing of the gap between Will’s fantasies and reality makes the torture ten times worse, knowing that the gap will never completely close.

Mike is oblivious to Will’s silent torment. He kicks at the floor, fidgeting shyly as he plucks up the courage to keep talking.

“And I feel like I should’ve realised what it meant right away, y’know?” he says in that soft voice he always uses with Will, the one that makes his heart hurt. “I think my brain figured it all out while I was sleeping, because it’s like I woke up and someone had put all the pieces together for me. The fact that everything was so good with you and uh, I wouldn’t mind doing it with you again some time but uh…”

“Mike,” Will breathes, voice shaking. He doesn’t know what to say. Mike wanting to sleep together again, no strings attached, was exactly what he had feared, but actually hearing it in Mike’s soft voice isn’t something he can bear. Instead of expressing any of this, however, what Will says is;
“I’m happy I could… help you realise that about yourself,” he manages. He cringes internally at how much he sounds like a queer self-help leaflet. The tiny furrow in Mike’s brow reappears.

“Wait, that’s not what I-”

A locker slams on the other side of the row, and they both jump. Their heads both snap towards the sound, and Will catches sight of the large library clock. It provides an escape from this conversation that is both believable and genuine.

“Fuck,” he curses fervently. “I’m going to be late for class, I have to go,” he rushes. Mike looks taken aback. “Mike, I’m sorry, I really can’t miss another one of Professor Fraser’s classes.” Will isn’t lying, he really can’t. “I’m so proud of you though, for real,” he says, and gives him another tight hug. Then, impulsively, he whispers into Mike’s ear, “Floor 4 has books about queer stuff.”

He releases Mike and squeezes his hand once, tightly. Mike looks rather dazed and confused.

“Sorry,” he says once more, and flees.

Behind him, Mike stares blankly at the chipped blue paint on the row of lockers as Will runs away for the second time in under twelve hours.

Will does have class, Mike knows that, but he feels a little like Will is trying to avoid him, and he’s worried about it. He chews his lip anxiously - he didn’t get to tell Will the second part of what he’d planned to say. He’d managed the coming out part, and of course Will had been wonderful, but he wasn’t done when Will had run off. Mike wanted to tell Will all about his revelation from last night; how he realised he’s been so blind and foolish. Telling Will he likes boys wasn’t the whole truth; he likes one boy in particular.

Someone walks into Mike’s row of lockers and nods a greeting to him. Their jacket has a little pink triangle button pinned to the lapel, the same pink triangle Will has in sticker form on one of his sketchbooks. Mike knows what it means. Suddenly, he realises it’s his symbol now, too, and something thumps in his chest. It’s not a bad feeling.

He heads towards the staircase, ready to climb to the fourth floor Gay & Lesbian section.

Chapter Text

The Gay & Lesbian section of the library is a single shelf; badly organised, like it had been assembled reluctantly by someone who didn’t particularly care. The books are stacked strangely, some with the spines turned inwards, and many with battered covers. The Dewey Decimal System has been abandoned, and fiction and non-fiction intermingle freely.

Mike feels a strong urge to re-alphabetise the whole thing.

He doesn’t really have the time, however; he’s been burning with a million questions ever since he woke up this morning, and trying to talk to Will and confess his newly-discovered (but, Mike suspects, long-dormant) feelings only left him with even more questions and a vague itch under his skin to get some answers.

At least Will had directed him up here before he disappeared. Hopefully this shelf will hold some answers.

Mike takes a few seconds to peruse the disorganised row of books. A few seconds is all he needs; there simply aren’t enough books there for it to take any longer. There is, however, a book on the shelf that makes Mike immediately blush bright red when he sees it. It’s called The Joy Of Gay Sex and Mike wonders who the hell ordered this for a college library when he sees that it doesn’t have a library sticker on it. Or more precisely, the library sticker is a fake - just a white sticker with a hand written number. He looks around, and when he sees nobody nearby, picks the book up and opens it. There’s no library stamp card glued inside the cover, but there is a note. It simply instructs him to take the book if he wants, but to bring it back to where he found it after he’s done, for others to read too. Then underneath, an address - hand-written in blocky letters, for what looks like a queer bookstore.

He turns it over in his hands a few times. Someone left their own book here on purpose, with directions to a queer bookstore inside, and a fake library sticker to avoid standing out too much and being removed by errant librarians. It’s not an actual library book, so he doesn’t have to check it out at the desk and get instant judgement from the librarian - or worse, risk getting caught holding a literal gay sex manual by some homophobic meathead. A little voice in the back of his mind (that sounds like Joyce’s crazy conspiracy theorist friend Murray) starts making little comments about censorship and how people will always and should always get around it. Mike’s thumb brushes over the place where the library sticker should be, and huffs a little laugh, marvelling at how clever people can be. He quickly slips the stickerless book into his backpack, then shoves his pencil case on top of it for good measure.

He picks up a couple more books - Maurice, by E.M Forster, which he vaguely remembers seeing in Will’s room in Lenora. He hadn’t realised it was a gay novel back then, but Will had covered it up so fast when he saw Mike looking at it. Mike chews his lip, wondering if fifteen year old Will had assumed he was going to be homophobic. He grabs an autobiographical novel called The Beautiful Room is Empty, which is pretty recent, and also doesn’t have a library sticker. A book about something called Stonewall. A non-fiction book called Reports from the Holocaust: The Making of an AIDS Activist by someone called Larry Kramer. Mike doesn’t want to read that one; it immediately sets a pit of dread in his stomach, but he feels like he has to. It goes in the pile too. He also grabs a couple of useful-looking pamphlets that someone has left on the shelf, and then drops a random law journal on top of the stack of books to conceal the covers. Mike carries them against his body with the spines facing inwards, so that nobody will see that every single one of them is about homosexuality and queerness. He makes his way to a quiet, empty corner, and feels his cheeks burn with every step. He feels like he’s doing something wrong, like he’s holding books on how to commit a crime rather than just trying to understand himself.

He wonders if Will spent a lot of time feeling like this. He hopes not, but he’s pretty sure he already knows.

Mike sits down at the desk and makes himself comfortable, pushing off his shoes and crossing his legs, knowing he’s going to be sitting there for a very long time. He starts with the pamphlets, because they’re less intimidating than the literal gay sex manual still hiding inside his backpack. They’re all bright colours and geometric graphics - Mike recognises that pink triangle snuck into a few of the designs - and all of the text is very matter-of-fact and informative.
The first line of the pamphlet on Understanding Your Sexuality tells Mike that some folk choose not to label their sexualities, which at first feels like the opposite of what should be in the pamphlet. It sounds interesting to Mike, but that’s not why he picked the booklet up. He knows, instinctively, that he could never be that person. He thinks he’d like to be someone who doesn’t need to put a label on things, to just go about his life as he pleases, but he’s just not wired that way. His whole life, Mike has been a big reader, the literature nerd, the type of child who read dictionaries and encyclopaedias just to learn from them. His entire degree is in literature and writing - he knows himself well enough to know that he won’t feel settled in himself until he can put specific words to his feelings.
Once he gets past the first page, though, the pamphlet is pretty useful. It describes terms like lesbian, gay, and bisexual, which Mike already knew - but also teaches him the meanings of and differences between transsexual, transgender, and drag queen. It describes gender, sex, and sexuality in ways Mike has never really thought about before. He learns about butch and femme lesbians, and then Mike learns what bears and twinks are, and blushes bright red.

Another one of the pamphlets goes into something called “compulsory heterosexuality.” The pamphlet was definitely written by and for lesbians, but Mike finds himself relating. The concept of subconsciously denying and burying one’s true feelings for the same sex because of society’s pressure to be with the opposite sex starts hitting Mike a little too hard, and before long he has to stop and bury his head in his hands for a long moment, before closing the pamphlet and sliding it inside his notebook to come back to another day.

In what is perhaps a fit of masochism, the next book Mike opens is the book on AIDS activism. It’s chilling. Mike cycles between boiling rage at the blatant way that the useless, homophobic government had allowed gay and bisexual men to die in their thousands, and deep, deep fear at the descriptions of the disease and its effects. Every now and then, he is struck as if by lightning by the realisation that Will is not just his best friend, he’s a part of this community, and the government and the public would regard him with exactly as much malicious apathy as they regarded thousands of gay men before him. He barely even thinks about how he’s definitely part of that community too - he’s too busy thinking about Will. For once in his life, Mike wishes he wasn’t thinking about Will. It’s making it all too real.

Somehow, despite the horrific descriptions of the disease and what it’s done to gay communities across the world, the line that hits Mike the hardest is the author’s description of why he became an activist.
"I must put back something into this world for my own life, which is worth a tremendous amount,” the book reads. “By not putting back, you are saying that your lives are worth shit, and that we deserve to die, and that the deaths of all our friends and lovers have amounted to nothing. I can't believe that in your heart of hearts you feel this way. I can't believe you want to die. Do you?”

Mike feels the line right between his ribs, like someone has inserted a knife and twisted it sharply. For the first time since he opened it, the book doesn’t make him think of Will - it makes him think of Max, and the way she had folded herself away into almost nothing after Billy’s death. The way she had lain so still in the hospital bed for months afterwards. It makes him think of El, standing before One ready to sacrifice her life to stop him, blaming herself for opening the gate in the first place. It makes him think of himself at sixteen, miserable in the wake of losing Max and Eddie, being dumped by El, being so distant from Will - feeling totally worthless, unneeded by any of his friends. One had picked up on his misery, because he always did, and Mike had been in the air before anyone had realised he was cursed. Memories flash through his mind - some real, some of them memories of visions created by One.

I can't believe you want to die. Do you?

A hysterical little noise escapes from him unbidden and he slams the book shut, and breathes deeply. Maybe this research session was a mistake. He was up late last night, then spent all morning analysing his sexuality and worrying about Will, then coming out to Will, then worrying why Will looked so stressed when he saw him, and maybe it’s all a bit too much. Mike considers getting up and going for some lunch, or walking around to stretch his legs, but looking at his stack of books is giving him a similar sensation to getting to a cliffhanger in a novel and then seeing that it’s two hours past his bedtime. Does he keep reading and suffer later, or stop now and deal with the curiosity?

Mike may be an English major, but he’s also a science geek, and scientists don’t do well with unsatisfied curiosity. He stands up, stretches his spine, and sits back down at the desk.
He flicks through his stack of books, deciding to leave Maurice, the autobiography, and the other few pamphlets for later. He glances over his shoulders nervously, and when he sees nobody around, he pulls The Joy of Gay Sex out of his bag.

It’s half dictionary and half instruction manual, and the contents page is long. Mike’s head spins at the list of words in front of him - half of which he doesn’t recognise, but some instinct just knows they’re filthy. Some previous reader seems to have highlighted chapter titles that caught their eye, things like Bears, page 5 but also Bondage & Discipline, page 17; Sex Phobia (or Puritanism), page 233; and Sadomasochism, page 213. Whoever highlighted these pages had specific interests that Mike is pretty sure he doesn’t share. He shakes it off, deciding to simply open it at a random page - then immediately almost slams it shut again in shock.

Mike has read raunchy romance novels before, stolen from his mother’s bookshelf in moments of teenage desperation. He’s read more serious sex scenes in books for his Literature classes. He’s read goofy descriptions of lovemaking using stupid synonyms and awful descriptives like “heaving bosoms" and "turgid member” and “throbbing manhood." None of them were particularly appealing, but he got off to them anyway because they were all he had. He’s read some romance novels that were actually good and got him a little hot under the collar.

Reading this book makes every single one of those novels seem as sexy as medical textbook, because The Joy of Gay Sex has illustrations.

It’s also not just about gay sex; it’s very descriptive of every aspect of gay life that Mike has ever heard of and plenty that he hasn’t, but he’s a little distracted and marks those pages for later. He goes back to the beginning and starts reading through it properly, and by the time he gets to page 10 (Blowjobs) he pulls out a pen and starts taking notes. By the time he gets to Dirty Talk he’s fidgeting in his seat, trying not to get hard. Before long he’s flipping ahead to things like Exhibitionism & Voyeurism, Rimming, and Face-Sitting, which are entirely new worlds to him. His notebook page quickly devolves from safe sex practices and terminology to a list of things he wants to try with Will.

If Will lets him. As he reads through this book, Mike is starting to worry that he might’ve been kind of bad in bed. He certainly can’t move into some of the positions he’s seeing in the illustrations, and he doesn’t look like any of these hunky, muscle bound guys either. Mike doesn’t ever meet or see most of Will’s hookups, so he doesn’t know what type of guy he usually goes for - what if Mike isn’t his type? He’s never felt particularly attractive, never been considered strong or seductive, and he knows that the one girl he’s ever slept with - Cindy - had only slept with him because she thought he was sweet, not because she thought he was hot. Plus, Mike knows he didn’t exactly rock her world. He had somehow managed to come way too fast, but also had an astonishingly mediocre orgasm. She definitely hadn’t enjoyed it either. Once they were done she kissed him - a peck, a grandma kiss - and patted his cheek then smiled tightly and left. Mike is pretty sure he had actually apologised to her when she was on the way out the door, but he’s kind of repressed the memory.
It’s night and day compared to sex with Will. When Mike had slept with Will, he found himself desperate to please him, having to pull himself back from the edge multiple times and eventually coming so hard he thought he was going to black out. It’s miles away from anything he’d felt with Cindy.

He flips to another page (First Time, page 91) and his already-overclocked brain starts to wear itself out turning this idea over and over in his mind. Mike bites his lip, staring down at the page in front of him. Just because Mike had enjoyed it doesn’t necessarily mean Will did. Will has way more experience than I do, Mike thinks, worriedly. Would he tell me if I was bad after he spent so much time venting about every other guy who was terrible?

Mike had told Will last night that he had never thought about having sex with a man before, but as he reads, he’s beginning to realise that wasn’t true. He hadn’t lied to Will, not consciously, but he’s slowly realising that some of the thoughts and dreams he had about Eddie Munson in high school weren’t just the result of simple admiration. Platonic, heterosexual admiration does not involve dreaming about older guys staring you down with dark, smirking eyes, calling you cute and backing you up against a wall, not even if you wake up hard and sweaty before anything intimate actually happens. It’s also not platonic to stare at your best friend’s ass - something Mike has been doing to Will ever since he came back from Lenora having had a growth spurt, which included some serious real estate in the back. Lucas had called it out once - Will had been wearing denim cut-off shorts, and Lucas told him he had a “dump truck.” Will had gone bright red - and Mike had been feeling a little warm in the face himself, but he shrugged it off because Lucas had noticed Will’s ass too, and Lucas was straight. Ergo, it wasn’t gay for Mike to notice Will’s ass. Repeatedly. For long periods of time.

Mike thinks he might be an idiot. It’s definitely not platonic or heterosexual to have a favourite pair of another guy’s jeans.

Mike reads and reads, making notes and marking page numbers, until his eyes are so sore he can’t keep going. He’s fully absorbed in his reading and his thoughts, forgetting everything around him, until the rattle of a librarian pushing a cart of returns past shakes him out of his zone. Mike lifts his head up, pressing the heels of his hands into his aching eyes, and when he finally opens them again he realises it’s dark outside. He checks his watch - it’s past 7pm. He’s been here since 11am. His brain is no longer operating on a high enough level for him to work out how many hours that is, but it’s too many. Mike stands up, wincing at the pop of his joints as they move for the first time in several hours. He gets a head-rush as he stands, and almost falls straight back down, and it’s then that Mike realises that all he’s had to eat that day was a coffee and a Kit-Kat. Will would be mad at him, he’s always telling him he doesn’t eat enough.

Will. Shit. It’s a Friday, and Will should be getting back from his study group soon. If Mike leaves now he can make it back before Will does and do some preparation for the conversation they’re inevitably going to have.

Mike packs up his books, carefully placing the more incriminating books under stuff in his bag, and checks out Maurice and The Beautiful Room. He feels like he’s committing a minor crime, leaving with the unofficial ‘library’ books hidden inside his bag, and his palms begin to sweat as he takes the books to the checkout desk, but the bored librarian doesn’t even blink at the gay novels. Nobody points their finger to scream that he’s stealing books, nobody tackles him for checking out gay stories. Some tense, nervous part of Mike untwists as she stamps the return dates robotically.

Cold air slaps him in the face as he leaves the library. Sometime during the many hours Mike was in the library, thick clouds had gathered across the previously-clear autumn sky, and they don’t look friendly. It’s a twenty five minute walk back to their apartment, and Mike spends most of it alternating between looking anxiously up at the threatening clouds, and looking down at his twitchy hands, trying not to bite his nails down to nubs.

He feels like he’s an entirely different person than he was when he walked this route in the opposite direction leaving their apartment this morning. When Mike woke up, he was sure of two things - that he liked boys, and that he liked Will. Now, he doesn’t feel sure of anything. Mike knows that both those things are still true, but he’s starting to freak out about what it means for him. Mike’s sexuality has never been a part of his identity before - if you’re straight, you don’t need to think about it. Mike’s pretty new to the whole “experiencing same-sex attraction” thing (consciously, at least) but he’s talked about it with Will once before - and one time with Robin, who looked like she knew something he didn’t and oh maybe she actually did - and he knows that realising you’re gay or lesbian at a young age results in a lot of introspection and worrying.

It’s amazing how being considered the norm, the default, lets you just skip a certain amount of stress.

Mike wonders if managing to delay that particular form of stress for the entirety of his teenage years is actually a bad thing, because now it’s hitting him all at once hard enough that he’s literally starting to itch. He’s a professional overthinker at the best of times, and this is not one of the best of times. He’s hungry, tired, and worried about Will, and none of those conditions are conducive to a good or objective analysis. Regardless, he can’t stop himself from making a sort of flowchart in his head.

1. I’m queer.
2. I probably should’ve figured that out sooner, but whatever.
3. I figured it out by having sex with Will.
4. I want to kiss Will.
5. I like Will.
6. Will is mad at me

Mike stops. Is Will mad at him?
He examines the evidence. Will looked stressed when Mike met him outside the library.

“Fair,” a little voice in his head reasons. “He just slept with his best friend, this is uncharted territory. You’ve been stressing about the exact same thing.”

Mike ignores it and continues overthinking. Will seemed stressed, but he seemed happy enough to talk to him right up until Mike had brought up their hookup. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, which makes sense - they were technically in a public space. But he had left so fast in the morning. Way earlier than he needed to.

Mike thinks a little harder, trying to find something to compare the situation to in order to understand it better. He flips through his mental files (the folder labelled “Will Byers” is absurdly vast) for anything that might be even slightly helpful.

“Oh god,” Mike says out loud. He then immediately trips over his own feet.

When they were sixteen, El had decided to take up baking. She was absolutely terrible at it, and Will, as her brother, was the unfortunate taste-tester for her creations. When she’d ask for his opinion, Will, not wanting to hurt her feelings, had done his best to avoid answering entirely, scampering away when he heard her kitchen timer go off and giving avoidant answers to her questions.
Mike’s stomach clenches unpleasantly as he makes connections. It’s very close to how Will’s acting today, but Mike hasn’t made any burnt, salty cakes. The only possible explanation is that Will thought he was bad at sex, and is avoiding telling him about it to try and spare his feelings.

He rotates last night in his mind once again, this time with a lens of slight concern, trying to remember Will's reactions to what he was doing without getting too turned on at the memory of it.

Did Mike pressure Will into sleeping with him? Mike's blood runs cold at the very thought, before he shakes himself out of it. No, he had asked for Will's explicit consent, and Will had asked him for things too, so it can't be that.

But you did kind of bulldoze your way into it, didn't you? a critical little voice in the back of his head questions.

Mike winces, and sets himself a plan with a new list.

1. Get back home.
2. Plan the speech.
3. Wait for Will to come in.
4. Apologise for bulldozing and for being bad in bed.

Then, if steps 1 - 4 are successful;

5. Kiss him again.

He nods to himself, satisfied with his plan, and then his eyes catch on a glowing sign for a coffee shop. It can't hurt to bring Will a peace offering, particularly one of the sweet and tasty variety. Mike steps inside just as the rain starts, and buys two hot chocolates, adding a big shake of cinnamon to one, just the way Will likes it. He's still nervous, but he knows he can make Will happy in this way, at least. He steps back out into the rain with a new determination.

It’s only another ten minutes back to the apartment from the coffee shop, but the rain has gone from a light spatter to a torrential downpour, and Mike is soaked to his skin, fat raindrops dripping off the curls of his hair and the end of his nose. Normally, he’d be annoyed about it, but he’s on a mission, and being cold and wet isn’t enough to distract him from his plan. Juggling the two hot chocolates, Mike eventually manages to open the door to their apartment - and to his surprise, Will’s already in there.

Despite all his fretting, Mike can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

“Will!” he exclaims. “I didn’t realise you’d be back before me! I was gonna reheat this for you when you got back, but we can just have them now-”

Mike stops hard, like someone’s hit the brakes on him, as his eyes finally register Will’s appearance. There’s a bag slung over his shoulder.
The words are out before he even realises he's opened his mouth.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, voice small.

“I- no! I was just…” Will tries, before deflating and giving up on whatever he was going to say. “I was going to stay at my friend Mari’s tonight. Just to… give you some space,” he says.

“What? Why?” Mike asks, hurt. He doesn’t need space. He doesn’t want space; the four feet between them is already too much.

Will shifts on the spot, unable to think of anything to say but not wanting to attempt lying again. Whatever the problem is, Will either doesn’t feel able to talk to Mike about it, or doesn’t want to, and both of those possibilities hurt Mike equally deeply.

In times of emotional distress, Mike’s brain seems to bypass the unnecessary process of thinking and goes straight to speaking.

“Are you avoiding me?” he blurts out. Will looks down, ashamed, hoping Mike won’t notice, but Mike notices every minute shift of Will’s body language, and always has.

“No, I just-” Will starts. “I just think some space would-”
“Aren’t we even gonna talk about this?” Mike asks, voice coming out in a whine. He’s too distracted to be embarrassed, though. He steps closer to Will, and Will steps back. “Will, seriously, why are you leaving?”

“Mari’s going to worry if I don’t show up,” Will tries. He hasn’t looked Mike in the eye once since he came in, but now he looks behind Mike to the door, and Mike’s heart screws itself up into a miserable little ball.

The sight of Will being so avoidant, trying to leave strikes some deep buried place inside Mike; reopening an old wound that never fully healed. Suddenly he’s fifteen again, listening to the dial tone of a long-distance phone call that never connects, more lost and alone than he’d ever felt in his life. Sometimes, Mike feels like their friendship never truly recovered from that year they spent apart. It’s like Will’s always holding something back, afraid to get too close despite all the times Mike has apologised, and it’s making Mike want to rip his hair out, torn between concern for Will, and anger at his avoidance.

“What?” Mike is in disbelief. “You don’t think I was worried when you disappeared this morning? Or when I ran into you in the library and you looked like you’d just seen a ghost? I’ve spent the whole day worrying about you, Will!” he almost shouts, before reining himself in. He doesn’t want to be mad, but he’s just been so stressed and in the dark and he doesn’t know what to do anymore and Will is avoiding him and everything is going wrong. “You’re my best friend,” he pleads.

“That’s the problem!” Will bursts out. “We’re best friends, I’m always your best friend,” he repeats hollowly. Mike is unable to move, rooted to the spot. Mike has no idea what he said wrong, but Will’s eyes aren’t avoiding him anymore, they’re blazing right into Mike’s. He drops his bag with a loud slam on the floor, and Mike’s traitorous brain is reminded of Will slamming his bag down just like that last night as he came in to complain about their university’s terrible offering of men.

Mike had tried to provide a solution, and look where it got them.

You always make everything worse, a nasty little voice whispers to him.

“You always worry about me, Mike! You worry about me. You look after me. You bring me snacks when I’m studying. You offered to have sex with me just because you thought it would make me happy! And after all that, you still just want to be friends,” Will laughs, but it’s bitter this time.

Mike feels confused, and more than a little upset. Some disconnected part of Mike’s brain realises that he’s still holding the hot chocolate peace offering. He sets it down. It’s not warm anymore, and Mike’s rain-soaked skin is starting to ache with the cold.

“I don’t understand,” he says in a small voice. “You don’t… want to be friends? What? This makes no sense, Will. Where is this coming from?” Mike doesn’t know what the hell is going on - it’s like they’re having completely different conversations. There’s an ache at the back of his throat, but Mike ignores it. He’s not going to cry.

The noise Will makes would be a giggle if it wasn’t so hysterical and joyless. He scrubs his hand across his face. Mike still doesn’t understand. None of this makes any sense. “Will, what is going on? Is this about last night?”

Will shoves his hands into his hair and makes an agonised noise. Mike’s worry is quickly being consumed by angry hurt.

“Will you just say something?” he shouts. Mike steadfastly refuses to acknowledge the way his voice cracks. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know I totally bulldozed my way into your pants, and I know I was kind of shitty in bed, and I know I don’t look like fucking… Christopher Reeve, or whoever, but I didn’t think you’d try and run away when you saw me again,” Mike bites out.
He swipes some water away from his eyes. He’s fine.
“It’s okay if you don’t like me back, but I just need you to tell me what I did wrong, okay? I need you, Will.” Mike’s definitely crying now, but he’s ignored it so far and he’s gonna keep ignoring it. “I don’t know why ‘best friends’ is suddenly such a problem, but you’re mine, okay? You’re my best friend,” he stresses.” I don’t need anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”

Will has gone very still in front of him. His mouth is hanging open.

“Mike, you…” he begins weakly.

“What?” Mike snaps, swiping away a few more tears. Will’s eyes are very big.

“You like me?” Will asks, in disbelief. He looks like he’s afraid to ask the question, still holding his defensive posture. Like asking isn’t allowed, or like Mike’s going to snatch it back or something. Mike is wound up far too tightly to register it properly.

“Yeah, no shit,” he grumbles. “What did you think I was gonna say back in the library? ‘Hey, I like boys now, so let’s keep sleeping together platonically just for fun’? Did you think-”

“That’s exactly what I thought you were going to say!” Will explodes, looking somewhat hysterical. “I just- I thought that at best you were gonna tell me you liked boys and you liked sex with a boy and you wanted to keep having sex with me. And I knew I couldn’t hear you say it. It would’ve ruined me,” Will confesses. He wipes away a tear of his own. “If you’d asked me to do it again, I would’ve had to explain that I can’t, because I want it too much, and you don’t like me back, you never have! I’ve wanted you for ten years, Mike, and the whole time I’ve had to be happy with just friends, and not once have you ever wanted me back!” he chokes on a sob.

“I didn’t know!” Mike shouts, desperately. “Why is this all on me? You’re acting like I knew you wanted me-” Mike suddenly cuts himself off as he realises what Will said.

“You want me?” he asks dumbly.

“That’s what we’ve been screaming about for the last five minutes, yeah,” Will snarks like he can’t help himself, despite his crying. Mike barely registers it; his heart is pounding in his ears.

“You- you’re serious?” Mike asks. He doesn’t have words for what he’s feeling right now, a muddy swirl of fading anger-hurt-surprise all churning together in his belly and making it ache. Mike just stares at Will, anger draining away slightly.
Suddenly exhausted, he slowly sinks down onto his bed, uncaring of the wet patch his sodden clothes are surely leaving. His brain is moving much too fast and also glacially, painfully slowly. He tries to hide a sniffle behind his hand, scrubbing the dampness at the corner of his eyes indiscreetly.

“Of course I’m serious, Mike. Everyone knows, everyone’s always known,” Will mumbles, suddenly sounding bone-tired. He drops down onto the bed next to Mike, both of them staring at their feet. At least they’re not screaming at each other any more.

“Well, I didn’t know,” Mike says. It’s the only thing he can say. “I’ve been so obvious,” Will groans, cheeks slightly pink.

“Not to me, you haven’t,” Mike says, still upset. “I don’t know if you know this, Will, but you’re like a brick wall when you don’t want someone to know something,” he sighs. As someone whose emotions are always written across their face in gigantic font, Mike has been jealous of this talent for years. Will is the master of hiding his feelings. If he’s actively been trying to hide his feelings for close to ten years, Mike is surprised that anyone knows about this.

“I mean, I didn’t want you to know. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have freaked out if I had come up to you when we were fifteen and told you I liked you?” Will questions. Mike doesn’t register the rhetorical question, actually thinking it over for a moment.
“I don’t know,” Mike says honestly. “It might’ve helped me figure a few things out.”

Will gives him a look.

“I’m serious!” Mike protests. “I told you, when I woke up this morning it was like someone turned on a light and I just suddenly knew. I’ve spent the whole day reading about being queer in the library, and learning about sexuality, and stressing out because I was so shitty at sex and-”

Will cuts him off with a frown.
“You weren’t shitty, why do you keep saying that?”

“Huh? I wasn’t?” Mike asks, suddenly sitting up a little straighter. “Wait, then why did you run out on me?”

Will drops his head into his hands and groans.

“Mike, you have no idea how scared I was that you were gonna wake up next to me and do some kind of straight guy freak out,” Will sighs. “I mean, it would suck if any guy had a gay freakout on me, but if it was you?” He shakes his head bitterly. “I couldn’t handle that. So yeah, I ran away,” Will says. Mike nods - it makes sense. “I’m sorry,” Will sighs.

“You don’t have to keep apologising,” Mike says.

“I hurt you,” Will protests, finally turning to look at him again. Mike shrugs, half-smiling. They’ve fought and cried enough tonight, and he’s finally starting to process the fact that Will likes him.

“Yeah, well, you’ve apparently been pining for me for ten years, so I guess it’s not that bad,” he tries to tease. Will gives a watery laugh and knocks his shoulder into Mike’s.

“I have not,” he lies.

“Have too,” Mike teases. Will shrugs and gives up immediately.

“You got me,” Will chuckles. He casts his eyes down sheepishly and Mike can only notice how long his eyelashes are. Mike just stares at him with a stupid grin on his face. He’s beginning to realise how often he’s done that, over the years.

“You like me,” Mike says, a little awed. The high-charged emotion of their argument has melted away, and Mike’s finally starting to process. “You’ve liked me for ever.”

Will shoves him gently again.
“You went to the library to do research on being queer,” Will teases him fondly. Mike laughs.

“Well, where else was I gonna find anything out?” Mike shrugs. “It’s not like I could ask Lucas for advice this time around,” he says, remembering his misguided teenage attempts at getting relationship advice from him. He’s not expecting the suddenly stricken look that takes over Will’s face.

“Oh my god, Mike, I’m so sorry!” he gasps. “I totally left you alone with no one to talk to right after you realised you weren’t straight!” Will scrubs his hands through his hair, visibly stressed.

“Whoa, hey, calm down,” Mike says. “It’s not like you knew, you were freaking out yourself” he says. Mike grabs his wrists and rubs them gently, and Will slowly nods in acknowledgement. “I think it was something I had to do myself, anyway.” he says pensively, eyes landing on his abandoned backpack with all the books in it. “I learnt some stuff. I made notes,” he says. Will snorts.

“Of course you did,” he says fondly.

“I found out what a twink is.” he says, just for the way it makes Will’s cheeks flush pale pink.

Pretty, Mike thinks.

“Mike!” Will hisses, scandalised, but he’s laughing. “Why did you look that up?”

“I didn’t, it was just in the book!” he protests. “I should know this stuff, if I’m part of the gay community now,” he says. The words feel borrowed in his mouth, but Mike figures he’s got time to get used to them.

“Is that what you are?” Will asks gently. “Gay?”

Mike shrugs a little.

“I think so. I mean, I’ve only been thinking about it for like, twelve hours total, but it feels right, y’know?” he mumbles. Will smiles softly at him, and places a hand over Mike’s.

“I know,” he says. He looks right into Mike’s eyes as he says it, and Mike knows he means it.

There’s been a little piece missing in their friendship since they were about thirteen; since Mike got a girlfriend and stopped having time for Will. The gap has grown and shrunk over the years with Will’s moves back and forth and Mike’s breakup, but it’s never been fully closed again.

When Will looks into his eyes and takes his hand now and tells Mike that he gets it, Mike feels that missing piece slot back into place.

He turns his palm up to meet Will’s and interlocks their fingers. There’s paint in Will’s nail beds again, and Mike’s heart skips with overwhelming affection.

“I was trying to tell you earlier,” Mike murmurs, then takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I like boys, and in retrospect, I totally should've realised that sooner," Mike laughs self deprecatingly. "But what I actually realised last night is that I like you.” he says. Will’s eyes are wide, but this time he doesn’t look scared. “I was gonna tell you in the library before you ran away - do not apologise again,” Mike scolds. Will closes his mouth and grins sheepishly. “Y’know I had a whole speech planned? I got to the part about it being my first time having sex with a guy and how great it was, but I never got to explain that I think the reason it was so good was because it was you," he rushes out.

Will’s hand tightens around his, and his eyes shine with unshed tears, but Mike can’t stop now.

"I fell asleep with butterflies in my stomach because I was holding you, and then I woke up and you were in my arms for half a second, and I don't think I'll ever be able to forget how you felt.” he rushes out. His mouth feels like a runaway train but it’s all true, every word of it. “I just- you mean so much to me, Will, and waking up next to you like, fixed me, somehow. Like it whacked a joint back into place in my brain or something. I feel like I've been living under a rock, or walking through fog or something like that. I’ve been such an idiot,” Mike says fervently. “I just- how could it ever be anyone other than you? I like you so much.” he says.

Will stares at him with slowly reddening cheeks for an excruciatingly long moment. Mike bites his lip.

“You know that, right?” Mike asks anxiously.

Rather than answer with words, Will suddenly pulls Mike down into a passionate kiss. Mike reacts on pure instinct, kissing back instantly and immediately, before he even realises what’s happening. When Will pulls away for air, Mike unconsciously tries to chase his lips.

“I’m starting to get used to the idea,” Will breathes. The disbelieving smile on his reddening lips is one of the best things Mike has ever seen, and he can’t help leaning in again.

Chapter Text

Mike kisses Will for what feels like forever, and it still isn't long enough. Even though they definitely kissed many times yesterday (and went much further than kissing, in fact), it feels like the first time, and Mike never wants it to end. The kiss starts off sweet, but Will is completely intoxicating, and Mike has been thinking about nothing but him for most of the day. He’s struggling to rein himself in; he doesn't want to push Will too far too soon, but Will seems similarly affected by desire. He grabs Mike by the waist and squeezes in a way that erodes Mike’s already-fragile self control to nothing. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere of the room as Will’s fingers slip under the soaked hem of Mike’s t-shirt to knead at his waist. Mike’s hand instinctively comes up to hold Will’s neck, and Will gasps; half from the coldness of Mike’s still-damp skin, and half from Mike’s tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He pulls back again, and Mike curses the need to breathe.

Will leans away slightly, breathing hard through his grin, and strokes his thumb down Mike's jaw. Mike stares at his smile, and Will catches him.

“Do you know how often you look at my mouth?” he asks. "It's been driving me crazy for years." 

“There are better things I could be doing with it than looking,” Mike counters in a stroke of boldness. Will leans back to look him in the eye and quirks a suggestive eyebrow.

“I’m open to suggestions,” he purrs. 

Mike’s mouth goes dry. He may have made a terrible mistake. Mike had found Will utterly irresistible last night, and that was when Will had been unsure and overwhelmed. But now that Will understands the situation between them, and isn’t hiding anything or doubting himself? Mike is quickly realising that Will’s ability to find hookups wasn’t down to luck, or the more liberal gay hookup culture, or any kind of method or trick he may have up his sleeve. No, Will has apparently been hiding from all of his friends for years a secret ability to flip a switch and become incredibly, almost unbearably seductive. 

The worst part is he’s not even doing anything. There’s no dramatic shift in his body language, just a slight implementation of his (very long and pretty) eyelashes and a subtle quirk to his tone of voice. He’s often spoken to Mike like this when it’s just the two of them and Will’s feeling confident, and it’s always stirred something strange inside him, but he’s never known what it was. He had never realised that Will was flirting before.

Mike is not going to survive. 

The cold that had been clinging to Mike's skin from the rain disappears as his whole body seems to catch fire. He's pretty sure he can feel his eye pupils dilate. His hands twitch, and one of them lands on Will's thigh almost accidentally.

Almost. 

Will just smirks, like that reaction was exactly what he was aiming for. 

Mike tries to get a little closer, and Will stops him with a gentle hand to the chest.

"You're still soaking wet and dripping water everywhere," he points out, and Mike has been so distracted by Will that it takes him a minute to work out what he's talking about. He had entirely forgotten this. He recovers quickly though, smirking at Will.

"Looks like I need someone to warm me up," he says.

“You should take your wet clothes off, dummy,” Will says, rolling his eyes fondly at the cheesy line.

Mike nods obediently, but there's just enough of Mike's higher brain function remaining for him to get the idea to try and make it look good. It’s not the first time he’s taken his clothes off in front of Will - they’ve known each other too long for that - but it’s the first time Will’s been explicitly allowed to watch. Mike shrugs his wet hoodie off rather unceremoniously and tosses it in a corner, but he takes his time with the t-shirt, peeling it away from his abdomen slowly. Will's eyes follow the motion intently. There are goosebumps along his body from the cold, and his skin shines slightly from the water. Mike pops the button on his jeans with one thumb and slides them down his hips, leaving his underwear on. It gets a little less sexy when he has to peel the sodden material off his thighs, and in the time it takes for Mike to sort the tangle out he starts to feel a little bit foolish. Will watches him intently, with an unreadable expression and dark eyes, then stands suddenly. Mike blushes and his arms twitch to cover himself up.

“We need to get you warmed up,” Will murmurs. Mike wants Will to step closer, wrap him up in his arms and press their bodies together for warmth, and his chest rises with hope as Will moves towards him. But instead, he steps past Mike and pulls a soft red cardigan off the back of a chair. “Here, you can borrow this,” he says. 

Mike’s chest pangs strangely as Will presses it into his bare chest. He feels vaguely like someone who’s just attempted to guess their birthday present and gotten it wrong. 

“Um,” Mike says. Will slides the sleeves onto Mike’s arms, not yet noticing the way Mike has frozen slightly. It’s wonderfully warm, and it smells like Will, but Mike doesn’t feel as good as he should about it.

He shouldn’t feel rejected by Will fetching him a sweater, but his whole body is aching to be close to Will, bare skin against skin. Will finally notices Mike’s sudden tension and steps back.
“What?” he asks. Mike bites his lip, frowning.

“It’s nothing, I just thought, uh,” Mike stammers. He tries again. “I’m kinda getting some mixed signals here.” 

It’s Will’s turn to frown in confusion. He takes Mike’s hand in his and tries to make eye contact. Mike tries to avoid it. 

“What do you mean?” Will asks earnestly, and oh shit. He seems to have no idea what Mike is talking about; maybe Mike has been making assumptions. Mike sighs, rubbing his neck awkwardly. He feels somewhat like he’s taken a wrong turn. Did he do something wrong? He feels kind of stupid and silly for reading too much into things. Will flirted a little, that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted Mike to do anything with him right now.

The reasonable part of him is pretty sure Will’s just concerned about Mike catching a cold, but Mike’s been through a lot today, and there’s a little, insecure voice that whispers that Will wants Mike to cover his pale, skinny body. 

Logically, Mike knows Will could never be so cruel, but Mike’s logical brain and emotional brain have rarely been one entity. Especially not when Mike is overtired, overstressed, and fresh off an emotional rollercoaster of a conversation with Will. 

Plus, being instructed to strip and then get dressed again by the boy he’s head over heels for would be spinning his brain on a good day.

“Look, it’s my mistake, we can just move on,” Mike rushes out, a little stressed. This is going to be embarrassing to own up to, but he’s not going to lie to Will. “I think I read too much into things and sort of… assumed stuff, about where this was going.” he mumbles. “But we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Will,” Mike says. Will frowns.

“Mike, what are you talking about? We were having fun. Flirting,” Will says, confused. Mike can’t help the frustrated noise that leaves his throat.

“Yeah, and then you told me to put my clothes back on,” Mike grumbles. “Right after you told me to take them off. So yeah, I’m a little confused,” Mike says. “Did I do something wrong?” He tries not to sound too upset or desperate.

“Of course not!” Will looks genuinely surprised. “I just… you have goosebumps, Mike,” Will says. “I don’t want you to be cold, you’ll get sick,” he says, looking stressed. 

It’s at that moment that Mike remembers Will’s extremely negative association with being cold. He opens his mouth to say something, but Will speaks first. “...Is this something to do with the stuff you said before?” 

“What stuff?”

Will hesitates again.

“About not looking like… Christopher Reeve, or whoever. And thinking that you’re bad at sex.” Will says, and ah. Mike had forgotten all about blurting that out.

Mike tries to avoid his gaze, embarrassed, and merely nods.

Will winces sympathetically, and steps closer, wrapping Mike up in his arms at last. Despite the uncomfortable clench of anxiety in his stomach, Mike sinks into the embrace. Will’s hand comes up to cup the back of Mike’s head, and it’s so comforting Mike wants to cry all over again.

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” he murmurs into Mike’s ear. Mike manages a shrug.

“Mm,” he says noncommittally. He knows Will understands by the tightening of his arms, actually saying the words, admitting to his insecurity, would make it too real. 

Unfortunately, Will can’t actually read Mike’s mind, because the next thing he whispers into Mike’s ear is, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He sits them back down on the edge of the bed, and takes his hand. Mike’s bare thigh overlaps Will’s jean-clad one, and Will’s arm stays around his waist. Will grabs a knitted blanket and drags it across both their laps for good measure. Mike hates to admit he does feel better now that he’s warming up. 

“I just. You know what kids used to say about me back in school,” Mike says, picking at a loose thread on Will’s shirt. Will nods, letting him talk. “I mean, they made fun of all of us. For being nerds and losers. And I never cared about that, I was kinda proud to be a nerd,” he says, genuinely. “But…” Mike trails off.

“But it was different when they made it about your looks,” Will guesses. Mike gives a little half shrug, half nod. 

“Frog face,” he laughs, humourlessly. Will makes a distressed noise.

“Hey, don’t say that,” he urges. 

It’s always there, in the back of his mind, ever since he was a kid. The bullies made fun of the Party for being nerds who were into science and fantasy books and D&D, but they made fun of everyone who was smarter than them. Which was everyone, so Mike didn’t feel too singled out in that respect. But nobody else was Frogface. Will and Lucas and Dustin had all been mocked ruthlessly for things totally out of their control, and that was unfair on a level Mike had never truly been able to comprehend at the time, but as far as Mike could recall, nobody ever called them ugly. That was just for Mike. That definitely stood out. The nickname stuck with him through middle school into high school, and then the high school bullies added a few choice insults about his lanky, skinny build. Will never heard those; he was in Lenora for most of it, but Mike can’t forget them. 

“I had no idea you felt like that,” Will says. He looks genuinely taken aback. “You think you’re unattractive?” 

Mike avoids Will’s gaze again, which is answer enough. Will makes a quiet noise of distress, then takes Mike’s face in his hand and strokes his cheekbone. He’s silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“It never occurred to me that you might think you’re unattractive,” Will confesses. “Ever since I was… what, nine years old? I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Mike snaps his head up and stares at him.

“What?” is all Mike can manage.

Will shifts their position on the bed again so that he’s facing Mike more directly and makes sure he’s looking him in the eyes when he speaks again. 

 “Mike, you’re beautiful. You’re beautiful , and I’ve thought that for my entire life,” he says.

Mike ducks his gaze and lets go of Will’s hand to try and fidget anxiously, but Will isn’t having it. 

“I mean it. I don’t care which celebrity you think I should want, or which hot guy in class you think I’d prefer,” he says fervently. Mike blinks at him. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Well, I’m beholding you, and I say there’s nobody I’d rather look at,” Will says honestly. “I’ve filled so many sketchbooks just drawing your face,”

Will leans in and kisses Mike’s cheek, which is flaming red.

“I love your cheekbones,” he sighs. “Your bone structure is to die for, seriously,”

Mike’s eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed, and Will kisses his eyelids.

“Your eyes, too. God, they’re so pretty,” he says breathlessly.

Will finds Mike’s hand on the sheets and twists their fingers together, bringing them closer to eye level.

“And I have very detailed fantasies about your hands,” he murmurs, unconsciously licking his lips.

Mike squeezes Will’s hand back and tries to ground himself. 

“And as for sex…” Will kisses Mike’s lips chastely and firmly. “I don’t know where you got the idea that you were terrible, but Mike…” Will finally breaks eye contact, looking a little bashful. “You were the best I’ve ever had. I mean it,” he says.

“Really?” Mike asks in genuine surprise. 

“Really,” Will confirms, still blushing. Mike feels something inside himself settle down; bruised masculine pride repairing itself. “But, uh. You’re welcome to try and prove yourself again, if you’d like,” Will adds, a wry smile making its way slowly across his face. 

Mike straightens his spine and looks at Will for a long moment. He’s this gorgeous, and he thinks Mike is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It doesn’t compute in Mike’s head.

Still, though; Will doesn’t lie. Not to Mike. 

Mike takes in Will’s glittering green-brown eyes, full pink lips, and the constellations of moles and freckles from his cheeks leading down into the collar of his shirt. 

Will is beautiful, water is wet. Nothing new there.

Mike leans in and kisses him again. It’s more tentative this time, Mike’s bruised emotions not allowing him to dive in too fast. They kiss sweetly for as long as they can, but Will soon seems to grow desperate. His hand slides up Mike’s back and threads through his hair like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and gently pulls.

Mike can’t hold back his gasp.

“Sorry,” Will says on automatic. 

“That was a good noise,” Mike gets out, feeling the flush return to his cheeks. 

“ Oh, ” Will says. “Good to know.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and Mike hopes he doesn’t live to regret telling him that so explicitly.

Will leans back in and captures Mike’s lips with his own, tangling their limbs together, until somehow they topple backwards onto the bed sheets. It's an odd image, Mike almost naked but for the cardigan and his underwear, lying on top of Will, fully clothed but pinned beneath him.

"I like the view from up here," Mike attempts to quip, but it comes out less smooth and flirty, and more desperately aroused. He's not lying, though; Will's flushed face and red lips look nothing short of stunning against the pale green sheets. Will's cheeks grow darker at the comment and he rolls his eyes fondly, deigning not to respond with words. He reaches down and grabs Mike’s ass with both hands and gives it a cheeky squeeze, making him gasp again; Mike's never thought he had much of an ass at all, but Will doesn't seem to mind. He uses his grip on Mike's ass to haul him up the bed, so that Mike's mouth is level with his mouth, and crushes their lips together once again. Mike can't hold back his groan of satisfaction as their slick mouths slide against each other and Will’s tongue slips into his mouth. Mike is reaching dangerous levels of arousal, and Will manhandling him has provided Mike with a hundred mental images of Will flipping their positions, holding him down and riding him again. 

Mike's starting to think he's got a thing about being pushed around. He wonders if there's anything in The Joy of Gay Sex that will help him understand it - he's hoping that Will would be down to experiment with him. 

Will is warm and solid underneath him, and Mike’s not cold anymore but he wants to feel Will’s heat straight from the source. He rucks Will’s sweater and tucked-in t-shirt up around his ribs, exposing his toned stomach, and tries to wriggle closer. In doing so, Mike involuntarily presses his hips down into Will's, pulling an accidental groan from his mouth. Mike’s hand springs up to cover his mouth, as if he can push the sound back in, but it’s too late. Will’s eyes darken. 

“God, you’re so hot,” Will says genuinely. Mike's blush races down his neck, and Will leans up to press his mouth to it, gently pulling the skin between his teeth. There's nothing but the thin layer of his underwear separating his steadily hardening cock from Will's body, but if he can feel it pressing into him, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, Will rolls them over in one big motion, so that Mike is the one trapped underneath him. Just like Mike’s horny fantasy. His still-wet hair soaks the blankets beneath him, and Mike slides one hand into Will’s back pocket, gripping his ass. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Mike complains in between kisses. Will huffs out a laugh, and bites Mike’s lip playfully. He sits up, straddling Mike’s hips, and slowly pulls off his sweater.

“Better?” he asks.

“Hmm,” Mike feigns uncertainty. Will laughs properly this time, and slides his shirt off too.

“How about now?” Will asks, staring at Mike’s mouth as he leans back down. Mike doesn’t notice; he’s too busy staring at Will’s chest. 

“Mmm,” he hums, subconsciously licking his lips. Will has a smattering of light brown chest hair that the Mike of yesterday hadn’t really paid attention to before, and he must have been an idiot, because it’s ridiculously sexy.

Then again, the Mike of yesterday had also briefly tried to convince himself that he should platonically fuck his male best friend in some kind of insane sexual “guys helping each other out” type thing, so. Definitely an idiot. 

Today’s Mike gets pulled out of his thoughts by Will’s teeth in his neck. A groan is ripped out of his throat; Will is nipping at his collarbone and sucking a hickey into the skin. Mike’s leg comes up to pull Will closer by the hips. He can feel Will straining against his zipper, through the thick fabric of his jeans, and desperately wants to get his hand inside them. He tugs at the belt loop fervently.

“Off,” he urges. 

Will doesn’t waste any more time with teasing Mike. He clambers off the bed and shucks his jeans off so fast Mike hears a stitch pop. Before he gets back onto the bed to kiss Mike some more, he makes a stop at his own bedside table, and pulls out the condom box from last night. He drops it onto the other pillow and settles himself back in his straddle position over Mike. 

“Might need those,” he mumbles, words crushed against Mike’s mouth. 

“Now who’s being presumptuous?” Mike jokes. Will bites his lip in mock punishment, and Mike moans loudly. 

“Don’t act like you don’t want to fuck me again,” he says candidly. Mike internally combusts for a moment. 

“Ngh.” 

Will snorts with laughter. “That’s what I thought,” he says, a smug smile on his face. Mike cannot take this affront.

“Actually,” he says, once he’s regained the ability to speak. “I got some ideas while I was doing my research,” 

“Oh?” Will asks, looking genuinely interested even as he’s starting to slowly rock his hips down against Mike’s. 

“Mm. Have you ever heard of rimming?” Mike asks faux-innocently.

Will’s face bursts into scarlet so fast that he goes lightheaded. 

"Mike!" he gasps. "How do you know-"

"There's a book I have to show you," is all Mike says. 

"Later," Will replies, and rolls their hips together. He gets over his shock quickly, and immediately returns to looking at Mike like he's his next meal. Mike feels hot all over with how much he likes that. 

Will is sitting over Mike’s thighs comfortably like they’re his throne. He leans back like a prince surveying his kingdom, admiring first Mike’s mouth, then his neck, then his chest. The hickeys Will had left there last night aren’t even fully developed yet, still potentially growing darker, but Will leans in to add to the collection with a smirk on his face. Mike groans at the soft-sharp suck and bite of Will’s teeth, fisting his hand in Will’s hair. 

“Can we…” he can’t make himself finish, instead sliding a hand beneath the waistband of Will’s boxer briefs to gently squeeze his ass cheek. Will nods against Mike’s neck, and sits up, sliding his underwear off without hesitation. Mike’s mouth waters at the sight of his cock, and he’s struck with the insane urge to laugh at his past foolishness.

How did I ever think I was straight? he thinks, staring dumbly at Will’s cock.

"Stand up," Will commands suddenly. Mike finds himself complying immediately. "Good boy," Will says. Mike would’ve been mildly alarmed at the instant shot of arousal that phrase sends through him if it hadn't also wiped out half his brain cells. He doesn’t get to think about it for long, however, because Will starts pulling his underwear off. Mike kicks them aside unceremoniously.

Will has a very obvious reaction to the sight of Mike fully naked except for Will’s sweater. Mike sits up and shrugs it off his shoulders anyway; he wants Will against him now. He grabs two big handfuls of Will’s ass, squeezing hard. Will groans low in his throat. Mike doesn’t stop, using his grip on it to pull Will onto his lap. 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever loved my ass as much as you do,” he chuckles.

“Do other people not have working eyes?” Mike responds. Will just laughs, but Mike is serious. If other people haven’t been showing Will’s ass the appropriate level of respect, Mike is going to have to intervene. Mike bites Will’s collarbone playfully, drawing a gasp from him, and teasingly traces the fingers of one hand across Will’s sensitive thigh, and the other one gives a gentle slap to Will’s ass. He carefully avoids touching Will’s cock; he has other ideas. Will squirms in arousal, fully hard and more than ready for Mike to touch him. 

“I wanna try something,” Mike murmurs.

“Yeah?” 

“Lie down on your front,” he requests. 

Will nods, and lies down, stretching out on the sheets. Mike admires him for a second, all creamy skin and broad shoulders, tapering into a narrow waist and perfect ass. He strokes at Will’s inner thigh again, and Will twitches, spreading them involuntarily. Will’s lower back muscles flex as he rocks his hips against the bed, subtly trying to get some stimulation to his cock. Mike stills his motion with one large hand, and grabs both cheeks again. He has to resist the urge to keep playing with it; no distractions.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Ready for what?” Will asks back. Mike doesn’t answer, just gently pulls his cheeks apart and lets his breath puff over Will’s exposed hole. “Oh fuck. Yes, definitely,” Will replies, tripping over his words in his rush to consent. 

Not wasting any time, Mike dives in before he can psych himself out. The second his tongue makes contact with Will’s hole, Will lets out a gasp so high and sharp that Mike almost jumps. He starts with long, slow licks across his hole, and immediately Will starts to shudder. When he circles it with the tip of his tongue, Will whines into the pillow he’s gripping like his life depends on it, and when he dips the tip of his tongue just inside, Will swears loudly. With every lick and swirl of his tongue, Will produces the most erotic sounds he’s ever heard, each one hotter than the last, and it’s driving Mike wild. He can’t resist grinding against the sheets a little.

He pushes his tongue in and out gently, trying to wring more noises out of Will. It just tastes like skin and his own spit, but Mike eats him out like it’s a full course meal. Mike’s brain flashes him the fantasy of Will doing this to him and he can’t hold back a groan. The subtle vibration makes Will moan too, and Mike’s eyes dart up just in time to see him pulling at his own hair in an effort to ground himself. Remembering Will’s reaction to a little pain last time, Mike gets an idea. His hands have been idly kneading the supple flesh of Will’s ass the whole time, and he gently begins to dig his nails in and scratch. 

“Mike!” Will cries, and grinds down into the mattress so hard that Mike loses his grip. He pulls up for air.
“Is this okay?” Mike asks, although this time, he’s feeling pretty confident.

Will seizes the moment to take a second to recover. He flips himself over and glares at Mike. 

“I’m going to come and it’s your fault,” he says, utterly failing to sound stern. Mike smirks, and looks back down, trying to think of some clever remark to say, but in exactly the same moment, they both realise that Will turning over has placed his cock directly in front of Mike’s face.

“Shit. Don’t you dare,” Will warns. 

Mike’s mouth is literally already opening, and he stops inches away. He’s halfway through pulling Will’s hand onto the back of his own head. Mike swallows back the saliva that has filled his mouth.

“Please?” he pouts. 

Will swears passionately, his self-control visibly snapping, and pushes Mike’s head down. Mike can’t help the satisfied groan he makes as Will’s cock fills his mouth, and immediately sinks down as far as he can go.  Last time he did this, Mike hadn’t been sure of blowjob etiquette, but this time he finds he doesn’t care. He spits directly onto Will’s cock, rubbing the moisture down to the base with the hand that’s not squeezing fresh bruises into Will’s hips. There’s a loud thunk as Will grabs the headboard with his spare hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Will gasps. “I’m going to die.” 

Mike taps Will’s hip in acknowledgement, but doesn’t stop. He swirls his tongue around the head, as slow and deliberate as he can bear to be in the feverish haze of “make Will feel good” taking over his whole body, and works his hand up and down the shaft. Will’s hips jerk involuntarily every time his tongue approaches the sensitive frenulum, and Mike focuses his efforts there.

“Mike, oh my God,” Will chants. “Please, Mike-” he cuts himself off with a strangled cry. “Oh my god, I’m going to- stop, wait,” he rushes out, and abruptly yanks Mike’s hair hard, pulling him off his cock entirely. Mike is sufficiently distracted by the pull to his hair to not feel rejected at Will literally pulling him off; he whimpers and grinds himself down into the mattress.

“Are- ngh - are you okay?” Mike asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Will pants. “You’re good, I just didn’t want to come yet.”

Mike looks at Will’s flushed, sweaty face and glassy eyes, and cocks his head in thought. He picks up the box of condoms and pulls out the bottle of lube stored inside it and turns it over in his hands contemplatively.

“Do you think you can come twice?” he asks hopefully. There are too many things he wants to try. Will just throws his head back and groans.

“I’m going to die,” he repeats. “You’re insane, I’ll die, ” he says fervently. Mike just waits until Will looks back down at him, then pokes his tongue out and gently licks some precome off the head of Will’s dick. 

Will makes an agonised sound. 

“Fuck,” he says desperately.

Mike grins.

“Pull my hair again,” he instructs, and then dives back in without another word. He takes Will in his mouth until he almost chokes on it, covering the rest with his hand, and revels in the choked moan he gets in response. It’s not going to take long, he can tell. Mike gives a pleased little hum and lets the vibrations travel down Will’s length. It’s pretty sloppy, Mike still unpractised despite this being his second blowjob in less than 24 hours, and there’s spit everywhere, running down Mike’s chin. It gives Mike an idea, and he pulls off for a second, opening the lube with a quiet click. Will's dick twitches, apparently a Pavlovian response to the sound. 

“Whatever you’re planning, yes,” Will says, before Mike can even ask. Mike coats his fingers in the lube and presses one to Will’s hole at the same time as he sinks his lips back down around his cock and Will practically hits the ceiling, arching his back sharply and yanking hard on Mike’s hair. Mike slides his finger in further, and soon adds another.

Last night, he hadn’t known what Will was doing when he started fingering himself, but thankfully, that was covered in detail in the book, which means Mike can do it for him this time without Will guiding him. This way, Will doesn’t have to worry about showing him what to do, which is much better - Mike wants to give him as much pleasure as he possibly can without Will having to lift a finger. Will laid back on the pillows squirming under his touch and reduced to whines and gasps is everything Mike had wanted. It’s better even than watching him do it to himself, because Mike knows for sure that those noises are all his doing; they all belong to him. 

Mike has half a mind to find that author’s address and send him a fruit basket.

He adds a third finger much sooner than they had last time. Will is still somewhat stretched from last night, and Mike feels feverish as he remembers that that’s because of him . He curls his fingers a little, searching for that spot that made Will go wild before. He knows when he finds it; Will groans with bliss, his breathing turning rapid and shallow and his whole body going stiff with tension as he tries not to come.

“I think I’m gonna black out if you don’t fuck me right now,” Will gasps. Mike looks up, meeting Will’s eye. His skin is sheened in sweat. His hair is a mess and the two hickeys from last night are joined by at least three new ones trailing down his chest, spit still shining where he was too distracted to wipe the wetness away. 

I did that, Mike thinks. He hums in satisfaction. He pulls his fingers out of Will and makes much quicker work of rolling the condom on than he did last night. It’s not long before he’s pressing the head of his cock to Will’s hole and slowly pushing inside. They both groan in unison as Mike slides in - Mike’s been so focused on Will’s pleasure that he’s barely touched himself at all, and the sudden stimulation and tight heat surrounding him is almost too overwhelming. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, grounding himself. Beneath him, Will twitches in a way that suggests maybe he needs the breather too. Mike opens his eyes, looking down at him. Last night, Will had been facing away from him. Now, they’re face to face, and this position has one definite advantage - Mike can’t resist leaning down and kissing him deeply as he begins to rock his hips. Their kiss breaks as Will involuntarily moans, and Mike grins against Will’s open mouth.

“God, keep moving,” Will pants. His legs come up around Mike’s waist as he draws out, and he uses his ankles to pull him towards him. Mike thrusts back in, and Will pushes him in deeper, pressing his ankles into the small of Mike’s back. Will grabs at his shoulders and waist, digging his nails in painfully. Mike hisses and drops his head into the crook of Will’s neck.  

“Sorry,” Will says. Mike just shakes his head.

“More,” Mike whines. “Please,” 

“Fuck me harder, then,” Will bargains. Mike doesn’t respond verbally, just does as he’s told, increasing his speed immediately. “Good boy,” Will gasps. Mike reacts just as strongly as he did the first time, blood rushing to his head. Will is grinding his hips down against Mike’s thrusts, and it’s perfect. He pulls Mike down by the back of his neck and crushes their lips together again, his other hand scratching four parallel lines down Mike’s shoulder blades as his pleasure starts to overwhelm him. Some distant part of Mike’s brain is aware that the headboard of the bed is knocking into the wall, but he finds that he couldn’t give less of a shit about being a considerate neighbour right now. He’s only focused on Will clenching around him, whining into his ear faster and faster in time with Mike’s thrusts. 

“Baby,” Mike whines. His orgasm is rapidly starting to build, and he curses, breathing fast. He refuses to come before Will. He’s much too close to try and reach for the lube lying next to him - Mike spits in his hand and wraps it around Will’s cock. He strokes him in time with his thrusts, and Will’s pleasured keens get louder and louder until suddenly, without warning, Will comes with a cry, spilling all over his own stomach right up to his chest with the force of it. Mike doesn’t get a chance to admire Will’s flushed, blissed-out face for long, though, because Will is grinding against him even through his own orgasm. He threads his hand through Mike’s hair again and pulls and that’s it, Mike is coming with a shout, every nerve on fire. Mike doesn’t stop moving his hips until they’re both whining with oversensitivity, aftershocks running through them. They gradually slow their movement, slowly untangling their limbs before Mike pulls out with a hiss. He discards the condom into a wastepaper basket full of essay drafts right next to the bed - he doesn’t trust his legs to carry him to their actual trash can.

Still breathing hard, Will turns to look at Mike. Just like last night, Mike wraps an arm around Will’s waist. This time, though, he kisses him. Will catches him by the nape of the neck and deepens it, so relaxed as to seem almost lazy. He lets their lips slide together for a long moment, humming with pleasure despite his tiredness. 

“Hi,” Mike says, smiling against his lips.

“Hi,” Will says back. He stares at Mike for a long moment, with a half-smile on his lips that’s giving Mike an odd sense of deja-vu.

“I had a plan,” Will says out of nowhere. Still somewhat dazed, it takes Mike a moment to register the non-sequitur, cocking his head in confusion. “I was gonna show you how much I like you,” Will sighs. “Wanted to kiss you all over,” he punctuates this with a kiss to Mike’s collarbone. “And I was gonna tell you how gorgeous you are, and how good you were making me feel,” he informs him. “But you kinda distracted me.”
Mike grins sheepishly, feeling a swell of pride. Will jabs him in the ribs with his fingers.

“Ouch!”

“You look much too pleased with yourself,” Will laughs. Mike squeezes Will’s waist, laughing giddily.

“I’m just happy,” he sighs. And he is; he feels relaxed for the first time all day, finally tangled up with Will. But more importantly, he feels settled . A restless, uncertain part of him has finally quieted down. He’s not even fidgeting, for once. Mike meets Will’s eyes - He seems to have zoned out again while watching Mike’s face, and tucks a strand of Mike’s hair behind his ear. Will is making that same half-smile expression again. Suddenly, Mike realises where he’s seen it before - it’s the same expression Will had when they went to the MoMA in New York and saw Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

Instantly, Mike blushes. It feels too conceited to even think that Will could regard him the same way he regards any painting, let alone Van Gogh. Mike isn’t art. But it’s like Will reads his mind, somehow sensing the approach of his insecurities, because then Will strokes a hand across Mike’s cheekbone, caressing the sharp angles reverently.

“I can’t believe you’re real, sometimes,” Will whispers. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this.”

Mike lets his eyelids flutter shut - he can’t look at him, his feelings too intense to keep eye contact.

“Sorry I took so long to get my shit together,” Mike murmurs in response, but Will shakes his head and places a finger on Mike’s lips.

“Don’t say that, it’s not your fault,” Will says. “I just never thought I’d get to have this. I never thought I’d get to have you.”

Mike doesn’t know what to say to that - it’s a lot, knowing that Will has wanted him for years. It’s something that’s shaken his world on its foundations, and there’s only so much he can digest in one day - so he doesn’t say anything. He kisses the finger laid on his lips, and takes Will’s cheek in the palm of his hand and caresses the contours of his face, hoping that it conveys everything he doesn’t have the words for.

Mike thinks back on his failed relationships, his not-quite-hookups and the dates that went nowhere, and the one constant after each one of them, the thing he sometimes looked forward to more than the actual date itself - coming back to their apartment to tell Will about it. 

“You’ve always had me,” Mike says honestly, “I just didn’t know it yet.”

Will laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and Mike pulls him closer to his chest. He wants to do this every night forever.

Suddenly, Mike remembers why Will had been avoiding him in the first place - his fear that Mike’s feelings for him went no deeper than friendship and lust. Mike thinks he’s been pretty obvious, but if he’s learnt one thing tonight, it’s that he and Will aren’t quite as telepathic as they thought they were. If he wants Will forever, he should probably say that out loud. Or at least, take the first step to forever.

“We’re dating now, by the way,” Mike tells Will. Will doesn’t get the chance to nod (or smile, or ascend into heaven through sheer happiness) before Mike suddenly pulls away from Will’s shoulder, face suddenly morphing into concern. “Wait, am I being too presumptuous? Do you date? You’ve never had a boyfriend, and come to think of it I don’t think you ever properly dated any of the other guys you’ve been with, maybe this whole time you didn’t even want a relationship and I-”

“Mike!” Will cuts him off with a hand over the mouth. “The reason I never dated any of those guys properly is because I was too hung up on you, dummy,” he laughs. “Of course we can be boyfriends now.”

“Oh!” Mike says “Okay, nice. Good. Cool.” He doesn’t even try to suppress his huge smile, beaming from ear to ear.

“Cool,” Will echoes, beaming right back. 

They stare at each other for a moment, simply letting it sink in. The moment is broken by Mike failing to suppress a yawn - he really didn’t sleep much last night. 

“Sorry,” Mike says through his yawn. “Tired.”

Will smiles at him, fond. 

“You wanna take a nap?” he asks. Mike nods, and Will opens his arms. Mike folds himself into them immediately and tries to snuggle down in the sheets with Will, but soon grimaces as his elbow hits a wet patch.

“This gross bed is ruining the moment,” he complains. Will laughs, wrinkling his nose.

“We have another bed,” he says with a shrug. “We can change the sheets tomorrow.”

He swings his legs out and moves to his own bed on the other side of the room. Mike nods, then narrows his eyes. Will might be his boyfriend (as of two minutes ago) but he’s also been his best friend for almost fifteen years. He knows him.

“You mean I can change the sheets while you sit there looking pretty and watch me, don’t you?” 

Will smiles angelically.

“I didn’t say it,” he says innocently, wrapping himself in the blankets.

“You’re terrible,” Mike says fondly.

“You love me,” Will says teasingly, though he bites his lip immediately afterwards like he didn’t mean to make that suggestion. Mike thinks they’re past the point of denying it; he just beams and crawls under the covers with him, cuddling up against his side.
“Yeah,” Mike sighs happily. "Yeah, I really do."

Will just kisses his head, smiling. They fall asleep easily wrapped up in each other’s arms, knowing that this time, they’ll wake up together.