Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mike is significantly drunker than he’d intended to get.

He’s going to blame it on Jonathan Byers - not for the alcohol, because Steve had provided that, but for the extra joints he’d given Will that are now being passed around the Byers’ living room. Mike’s never been crossfaded before, and it’s safe to say that he was not prepared for the heightened effects on his intoxication levels.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, to be fair, but he’s having a little trouble staying present, is all. Dustin and Max are talking seemingly twice as fast as usual, and his attention keeps drifting every time he tries to follow along with it. El has her eyes closed and is humming to herself like she’s meditating or something, and Lucas is tossing M&Ms into the air and catching them in his mouth. Will is sandwiched in the corner, leaned up against the couch, and has been absorbed in his phone for the last fifteen minutes, his already-quiet demeanor shrinking to overtly anti-social once he’s a little stoned. It would come off as rude or off-putting if it was anyone else, maybe, but Mike’s kind of digging his zen vibe right about now, so it’s whatever. Even so, he finds the wherewithal to sneak a foot over to him, nudge him in the side with his toe, and raise an eyebrow. 

Will glances up, startled, then smiles. “Sorry.” He sets his phone down on the carpet beside him and shoves his glasses up his nose, giving Mike a once-over and chuckling a little. “You good?”

“Uh huh,” Mike says, which is true. He’s not much of a partier, granted, but this kind of thing, getting drunk with his friends in a controlled setting, that’s much more up his alley. “Pass me the thing?” he asks, gesturing vaguely to the bowl of Halloween candy by Will’s left knee.

Will smiles and hands it over, his half-unbuttoned shirt flapping further open as he does so. He’s dressed as Clark Kent - the new one, not the Henry Cavill one, because Will thinks Henry Cavill just has kind of, like, a sleazy vibe, and his nose gets all crinkly and disapproving when he talks about it - but he’d lost his tie a couple hours ago and his blazer has been shed to accommodate the rising heat in the room, and every time Mike glances over at him another one of the buttons on his shirt seems to have come undone. He doesn’t think Will’s doing it on purpose, but he does think it’s sort of funny that Will’s taken a very innocent loveable goofball character and turned him into sex walking - like, objectively. Which, like, he’s not really sure why his stoned brain is choosing that terminology, but whatever. It’s been a well-established fact in the Party for a long time that Will’s glasses, on the rare occasion he wears them instead of his contacts, make him immediately and inexplicably ten times more alluring, so that’s probably what it is, more than the- the slutty shirt thing.

Anyway.

Mike fumbles with the wrapper of a Reese’s peanut butter cup, his costume squeaking a little with the movement. He’s dressed as the actual Superman - also the David Corenswet one, which is not really evident in any way from his costume but is important nonetheless - and the fake muscles in his bodysuit are restricting his movement in a way that is slowly driving him insane. Dustin had taken issue with his and Will’s dual costume situation - Is it like, a couple’s costume or are you guys just bad at coordinating? he’d asked when Mike arrived. Max had hit him on the shoulder and said that obviously if it were a couple’s costume Mike would be Lois Lane, which had then resulted in El trying, not for the first time, to convince Mike to let her and Max put makeup on him. All of which Mike had protested with a vengeance, firstly because he’s determined not to let Max or El near him with a makeup brush ever, and secondly because he and Will are not, in fact, a couple, and they know that, and their costumes had simply been a funny idea they’d come up with after seeing the movie together over the summer.

It had left him with a weird feeling in his stomach, but now that he’s successfully smothered said feeling with alcohol, he’s starting to enjoy himself.

“Hey, stop hogging all the candy,” Lucas complains, flopping down beside Mike and snatching the bowl out of his hands. He’s dressed as one of the dinosaur hunters from the new Jurassic World, though Mike’s not sure which one he’s meant to be, and secretly suspects it has more to do with that comment Max made one time about thinking he looks good in camo than anything else. “Dude,” he groans, “You guys ate, like, all the Reese’s.”

Will peers over the rim of the bowl skeptically. “There’s still a couple,” he offers, a little halfheartedly.

Lucas ignores this. “Why the fuck did your mom buy so many Starbursts?” he complains instead. “Everyone knows Halloween is a much more chocolate-oriented holiday.”

Will shrugs. “They were on sale.”

“I like Starbursts,” Max says defensively, leaning over to grab the bowl out of Lucas’s hands, Wednesday Addams braids swinging around in front of her. Lucas immediately softens, because he is a loser and a pushover. Mike would make fun of him, if his thoughts didn’t feel quite so light and floaty right now. “Don’t you guys remember the Starburst game?”

Dustin snorts. “Yeah, from middle school.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m the reigning queen of it, so.”

“That’s not fair, though,” Dustin points out, “I was at a disadvantage because I didn’t have any teeth.”

“What is it gonna take for you to shut up about your teeth, Dustin? It’s been five years.”

“What Starburst game?” Mike asks idly, plucking a candy out of the bowl and examining it. He tries to unwrap it, but his fingers don’t feel super connected to his hands right now, so he mostly just fumbles with it until he gives up and tosses it back into the bowl.

“The one, you know,” Dustin says, gesturing vaguely, “where you’re supposed to unwrap it with your tongue? And if you can do it it means you’re good at kissing? Come on, Mike, you’ve played it before.”

Now that he mentions it, Mike does remember, but it doesn’t seem of particular consequence to him right now, because he’s noticing for the first time that this carpet is, like, really soft, and he’s a kind of sleepy now that he thinks about it, and maybe no one would notice if he laid down and took a nap for a little while.

“Mike’s just pretending not to remember because he was bad at it,” El sighs, which gets Mike’s attention back from carpet-related musings.

“Hey,” he says with a frown. “That’s mean.”

She shakes her head at him, her wig sliding slightly askew over her forehead. She’s dressed as Enid from the Wednesday show to match with Max, which Mike thinks makes them both hypocrites considering they were the ones mocking him and Will for having a couples costume, but whatever. “I just said you were bad at the game, not kissing!” she says, which is better, sort of, except that the implication is basically the same, and it’s definitely not the first time she’s mentioned it.

“It’s not true!” he protests, pushing himself into a more upright position and scowling at her. “Will, back me up.”

“Huh?” Will glances up from his phone, which he’d evidently picked up again. “Oh. Yeah, guys, stop making Mike feel bad. It’s just a stupid game.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucas tips the candy bowl toward him. “Prove it.”

Will blinks at him mildly. “Me?”

“Both of you.” Lucas shakes the bowl, arching an eyebrow in a taunt.

Mike glares. “Fine.” He snatches a Starburst out of the bowl. “You all have to do it too, though.” 

Will doesn’t seem to have fully processed what’s going on, but he shrugs and grabs a Starburst anyway. “Sure, okay.”

“Happy to defend my crown,” Max says, grabbing a handful and passing them around. Dustin roots through his emerald Wizard of Oz suit for his phone and sets a stopwatch.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing around at everyone. “Three, two, one!”

Mike regrets his decision almost immediately. For one thing, his tongue is currently too big for his mouth, and uncomfortably dry at that. The first thirty seconds are mostly just him trying not to cringe at the feeling of the wax paper. By the time he’s found the corner of the candy and worked a flap of the wrapping open with his tooth, almost a full two minutes have passed. 

The room has gone dead silent as everyone focuses, which means that when Will clears his throat delicately, everyone’s eyes snap to him immediately. “I’m done,” he says, holding up the slightly damp and perfectly intact wrapper pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

Dustin immediately scowls, pausing the stopwatch and spitting his half-chewed Starburst into his palm. “Man, what the hell? How’d you do that?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t remember you being this good at it before,” Lucas says suspiciously around a mouthful of paper. There’s orange-dyed spit collecting at the corner of his lips, which is gross, but he makes a good point. Mike tries, in vain, to remember who won the last time they played, at least four or five years ago now, and draws a blank. He glances back at Will, whose lips are darkened slightly pinker by the candy, and who’s smiling faintly, the picture of innocence. 

Max wolf whistles. “Damn, Byers, who have you been kissing?”

Will’s cheeks immediately flush the same shade as his lips. “No one!” he squeaks, his shoulders doing that cute thing where they bunch up next to his ears, like a turtle or something. “I’ve always been good at this game, you guys just don’t remember.”

Again, Mike tries to remember the details of previous games, and again he comes up with nothing. He chews on the inside of his cheek, staring at Will’s lips, and contemplates the concept: Will, kissing someone. Will, kissing multiple someones, maybe, and not telling anyone about it, not telling Mike about it. The idea makes something unpleasant turn over in his stomach. “Are you sure?” he asks before he can stop himself, and only realizes how sharp it came out when everyone turns to him with narrowed eyes.

Will laughs, a little bemusedly. “Um, yeah? I think I’d remember.”

Which is true, he probably would - unless he’s lying, of course. Mike squints, trying to catch a hint of deception in Will’s features, but they’re open and softened as always, one eyebrow quirked as he stares right back at Mike. 

“You could tell us,” he blurts, though he can sense even through the fog of intoxication that he’s pushing this too far, “if you had been- uh, practicing. I mean.”

Will’s expression has decidedly shifted from bafflement to amusement. “Right,” he says slowly, “yeah, I know. But I haven’t, so.”

Mike bites down hard on his own tongue to stop himself from asking are you sure again. Beside him, Lucas lets out a stilted little laugh and claps him on the shoulder. “Okay, Mike, I think we cleared that up. Should we play something else?”

Mike is struck by the insane urge to request that they play spin the bottle, but he manages to swallow it down. El suggests they put on a movie, and Mike slumps back against the couch in defeat as the opening credits of Knives Out starts playing. 

Will shifts, nudging Mike’s knee lightly with his own. “You okay?” he asks, a laugh in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Mike says, which isn’t really true, but he’s not sure why. He squints at Will, who seems to have taken him at his word and is now focusing on the movie, the glow of the screen casting shadows over his face. He has a nice face, Mike thinks idly, and for the first time he wonders why, if Will was telling the truth, he hasn’t found anyone to kiss yet. Who wouldn’t want to kiss Will? He’s cute, and he’s sweet, and he’s developed this quiet confidence over the past few years that’s kind of enticing, in a weird way. Mike’s even seen people flirt with him before! He can think of at least three guys from school that he’s sure would have taken Will up on it if he’d wanted to- to practice, or whatever. So why hadn’t he? Or had he, and now he’s embarrassed to say so?

Mike frowns, picking at the carpet and examining the side of Will’s head as if he’ll be able to discern the answer from here. Why would he be embarrassed? It’s not like they don’t tell each other that sort of thing. Dustin hadn’t been able to shut up about Suzie when they first met, and Lucas and Max are all gross and coupley all the time, and El is- well, El’s focusing on herself right now, but if she was kissing people, she wouldn’t lie about it. Mike’s told Will about all of his recent escapades, limited though they might be.

Wait. Is that what the problem is? Mike’s been- well, he’s been trying things lately, just to see- namely, things like occasionally making out with guys from school in coat closets at the parties Lucas drags him to. And he’s told Will, because he tells Will everything, and Will’s listened and been supportive and encouraged Mike to figure himself out, or whatever, but- what if Will’s also been kissing guys, and he thought he couldn’t tell Mike because there would be, like, competition? What if Will’s been kissing the same guys that Mike has? There’s not exactly a lot of options for gay kissing available in Hawkins, so statistically it would make sense. Maybe Will felt weird about it, or thought Mike would feel weird about it. Does Mike feel weird about it? A little, maybe, but not in, like, a bad way. He doesn’t feel any sense of, like, possessiveness over those boys, because the whole point had sort of been that there’s no romantic entanglement, he’s just experimenting, so if Will wanted the same for himself, who is Mike to stop him? It almost makes him feel closer to Will, in a weird way, like kissing the same sets of lips is just one degree off from kissing Will himself.

Mike frowns, watching the way the shifting colors on the screen highlight Will’s face, turning his lips a darker shade of shadowed pink. What would that even be like, to kiss Will? He bets Will would be good at it, even without the evidence of the stupid game. He wonders who it is that Will’s kissed, whose identity he’s keeping so secret. Hopefully not Mason Keller, he thinks with a shudder - he has bad breath, and had been kind of sweaty and gross when Mike had worked up the courage to slip a hand under his shirt. But Evan Cleary had been decent. Maybe Will’s kissed him. He wonders if Evan liked kissing Will more than Mike. He wouldn’t mind, really, if Evan did - Will’s better than Mike in lots of ways. He probably doesn’t have bad breath like Mason. His lips are probably soft - they look soft, anyway - and he probably does that adorable little smile thing afterward, the one where his eyes dart away and his cheeks flush a pleased shade of pink.

If Will was telling the truth, about never having kissed someone, then Mike thinks the guys at school must be seriously missing out.

Will shifts again, tilting a little closer to whisper, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Oh. Mike blinks a couple times, glancing back at the TV and realizing belatedly that the movie is almost halfway over. He’s been staring daggers at Will’s head for nearly an hour. “Oh. I’m, uh, not,” he says, which is a lame answer if the snort Will gives in response is anything to go by.

“Sure,” he replies, shaking his head a little and leaning back against the couch.

Mike frowns and refocuses his attention on Daniel Craig. Who is not nearly as cute as Will, by the way, but is distracting enough that he’s able to resist the urge to lean over and ask Will again if he’s sure he’s never kissed someone, and if so, would he be open to trying it.

By the time the movie ends, everyone’s eyelids have gotten heavy, and Max yawns pointedly in Lucas’s direction until he takes the hint and stands, brushing discarded candy wrappers off his lap. “Okay, I’m beat,” he sighs, extending a hand to Max and pulling her up with him. “I’m gonna drive Max home.”

“Yeah, I’m about to crash,” Dustin yawns, “Mike, you still want a ride, right?”

“Hmm?” Mike has resorted to curling into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest and pinching himself every time he’s tempted to start staring at Will again. He’s probably going to have a bruise.

“Jesus,” Dustin mutters, and then there’s a KitKat being chucked at Mike’s head. “Earth to Mike. Car’s leaving in five minutes.”

“Oh,” Mike says vaguely, shaking himself out of his stupor and unfurling his legs. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.”

Lucas murmurs something to Dustin that Mike doesn’t bother paying attention to, and their voices disappear out the front door as the two of them and Max walk out to their cars. When he braves a glance at Will, he finds him arching an eyebrow at Mike, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Not that Mike’s looking at them, or anything.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” Will says, pushing himself off the floor and waiting patiently while Mike belatedly remembers how to use his limbs and follows suit. They walk past El, who’s been conked out on the couch for the better part of an hour, and to the front door, where Mike abruptly stops, turning to face Will with a sort of desperation, though he’s not sure why. It’s just Will, for Christ’s sake. Sweet, easygoing Will, who may or may not have been kissing all the same guys Mike has.

Will is still looking at him with that faintly endeared expression, and it’s making Mike feel sort of insane. “Dustin’s waiting for you,” he says pointedly, jerking his head in the direction of Dustin’s navy Subaru, where Dustin’s already in the driver’s seat with the engine turned on, staring at his phone while he waits for Mike.

“Yeah, right,” Mike says, and then continues to not move, for some fucking reason. He feels like all his muscles have been turned into jelly, and not in a fun, weed-induced kind of way.

“Mike,” Will coaxes again, and when Mike keeps on just staring dumbly at him, he laughs. “What’s your problem?”

“Uh.” Mike’s throat is suddenly very dry. He’d like to be able to articulate his problem, he would, but he thinks if he tries he’ll just come off even more insane than he already does. “Nothing.”

He should know better than to try to bullshit Will. He’s met, immediately, with a scoff, and the amusement on Will’s face seems to double. “Are you still thinking about the stupid game?”

Damn. Mike sometimes wishes he and Will were slightly less close, if only so that his mind-melding powers didn’t crop up at inopportune moments quite so often. “No.” A crinkle in Will’s nose; nice try. “Well. Possibly. Yes.”

Will laughs again, a pleasant sound, deep and resonant and charming. That’s a good word for it; Will is so charming, with his half-opened white button-up and tousled hair and stupid, slutty Clark Kent glasses. “It’s really not that serious, Mike.”

“Yeah, no, right. I know.” He clears his throat. “Have you- um. Evan Cleary,” he blurts, like an insane person.

Will blinks. “What?”

Oh, Christ. “I was just thinking- about the game, and how you said you haven’t kissed anyone,” Mike explains, which does not make him sound any less deranged, “and I was thinking maybe you were lying because you’d kissed Evan, and you knew I had too, and you didn’t want it to be weird.” He swallows, knowing he should stop there, but the word vomit works its way up his throat anyway. “Which, like- it’s not weird, or, well, it kind of is, but it’s not like I mind, like, he’s pretty hot and if you bagged him then props to you, but I just-”

“Mike.” Will is looking at him like he’s lost his mind, which is fair, because Mike kind of feels like he has. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mike winces. “I, ah. I don’t really know, honestly. Sorry.”

Will nods slowly. “Okay. Well. I haven’t kissed Evan. Although now I’m thinking maybe I should?”

It’s a joke, but Mike’s gut immediately clenches in protest. No, he thinks, you shouldn’t kiss him, you should kiss- “Um- well, if you want to,” he says, instead of that, “like, I wouldn’t mind.”

Will laughs, confusion still clouding his features. “He’s not really on the top of my priority list, but- thanks, I guess?”

Mike feels like he might throw up. “You’re welcome.” There’s an awkward pause, wherein Will stares at him with hesitation and Mike tries to get his brain to work, and then he blurts; “Who is on the top of your priority list, then?”

“Oh,” Will’s eyebrows lift in surprise, “um, I don’t know? David Corenswet, probably,” which is a joke, obviously, except for the fact that Mike is dressed as him, so- “but, I mean,” Will continues, shifting his weight a little, expression shifting to something a little sharper, more keen, “if someone was offering, I’d be willing to, uh, explore.”

Oh. “Really?” Mike asks, definitely too hopefully.

It must be the right call, though, because the last of Will’s confusion clears, and he smirks, that addictive, lazy confidence from earlier making a reappearance. “Yeah, I mean,” and holy shit, he’s taking a step closer, “you won’t get better at the game if you don’t practice, right?”

That’s an excellent point, actually, and Mike wants to tell him that, but his body moves faster than his brain can and suddenly he’s bracketing Will against the wall, Will’s eyes going wide with surprise and then darkening with approval, and Mike decides he can tell Will how smart he is later. He leans in, giving Will just enough time to refuse if by some horrible twist of fate Mike misunderstood what he meant by practice, but he needn’t have worried - Will is already cupping the back of his neck and yanking him in, their lips meeting in an open-mouthed kiss that is instantly better than anything Mike’s intoxicated, fractured mind could have come up with.

Mike was right earlier, as it turns out, about Will’s lips being soft. He tastes like candy, which is to be expected, probably, given the holiday, but is pleasant nonetheless, sticky sweetness on his tongue when it brushes against Mike’s. And look, Mike’s not an expert on kissing or anything, and he knows what Will said before, but surely this can’t be Will’s first kiss, not when he’s so damn good at it. Not with the way he sinks his hands into Mike’s hair and tugs him closer, and how he lets Mike crowd him further against the outer wall of the house, and the soft noise he makes when Mike bites his lower lip. Either Will’s some kind of kissing prodigy, or he’s been taking lessons, but Mike can’t even really find it in himself to be jealous of potential former makeout buddies anymore, because Will is kissing him. Will is kissing him, Mike’s best friend in the whole world is kissing him, and smiling into it too, a clack of teeth with it that should be jarring but really just makes him want to laugh. Mike gets a little bold, slides his hands under the folds of Will’s stupid button-up, the warmth of Will’s skin insistent against the October chill and instantly addictive. Will makes a noise of approval, and- look, Mike knows, okay? He knew he liked kissing all those guys before, knew that that said something about him, and that he’d probably have to unpack it in a serious way at one point or another. But it was easy not to, before, because those kisses didn’t matter. They were one-offs, flings, and he never felt the need to push beyond those sporadic makeout sessions in back rooms behind closed doors, but now- he gets it. It’s never felt quite so right before, never felt like it could be something, anything real, anything extended beyond a simple press of lips and skin. 

But this- this feels real. Will feels very real, the fact of him unyielding beneath Mike’s palms, and Mike wants him even as he’s getting him, like he’ll never be completely sated until they’re fully intertwined, melded into one being. He presses his hands against the small of Will’s back, as if he can brand the thought into Will’s skin by willpower alone, and Will makes another soft sound before he pulls away, reluctance shining in his eyes.

Mike tries not to pout, he really does, but a whine of protest escapes him anyway. He tries to lean in, to catch Will’s lips with his own again, but Will pushes him back with two gentle but firm palms against his chest. “Dustin’s waiting for you,” he says, though it sounds like it physically pains him. “You should go.”

Mike huffs indignantly. “Screw Dustin. I’ll just sleep over.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Mike,” Will says with another of those rumbling, warm laughs that make Mike feel all kinds of giddy, “come on.” 

“You’re so mean,” Mike sighs, dropping his head onto Will’s shoulder. “I was having fun.”

His ear is pressed just under Will’s jawline, so he can hear it when he swallows, the ragged breath he takes. “Me too,” he murmurs, the admission making heat zip up Mike’s spine, “We’ll just have to try it again sometime, okay?”

Mike perks up, lifting his head from Will’s shoulder, eyes wide. “Okay,” he agrees, nodding emphatically, not even caring that he’s lost all remaining vestiges of his dignity within the past twenty minutes. He’s never gone back for seconds with any of the other guys he’s kissed, but he’s fairly confident that he would willingly and happily kiss Will for hours straight, given the opportunity. Whatever he was thinking earlier, about not seeing Will like that, about just being curious - he’s pretty confident now that that was complete and total bullshit.

Will’s (very red) mouth twists into an affectionate grin. “Go home, Mike. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And, look, Mike may or may not trip over his own feet a couple times on his way down the porch steps, but it’s been a long night, okay? He’s too happy to be embarrassed.

Dustin doesn’t look up from his phone as Mike clambers into the passenger seat, and for a minute Mike thinks he’s gotten away with it, but then;

“Did it meet expectations?” he asks, a lilt in his voice that betrays imminent mockery.

Mike’s face flushes, and he grunts at him as he buckles his seatbelt. “Shut up and drive.”

“Give me a sec,” Dustin says, fiddling with the volume buttons on the dashboard and tapping at something on his phone. “Okay… ready.” He pulls into the street and rolls down the windows just as ‘Careless Whisper’ comes blasting out of the car speakers, loud enough that Will, who’s still standing on the front porch watching them, can almost certainly hear. Mike groans and covers his face with his hands as Dustin leans over him to shout out the window; “BYE, WILL!”

“I hate you,” Mike says through his hands, peeking through his fingers just in time to see Will’s face scrunched up in a giggle as he waves them off. Mike softens a little and waves back, then keeps waving until they’re safely around the block, because apparently what he’s learned tonight is that Will turns him kind of stupid.

When they’re out of sight, Mike drops his hands, letting out a slow, happy sigh. “Dustin,” he says, “I think I’m officially gay.”

Dustin snorts. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Mike huffs at him. “Turn the stupid song off already, asshole.”

Dustin just nudges the volume dial higher and grins.