Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain kept Mike awake. Watching the drops smear into each other over the glass reminded him of the branching vines of the Upside Down, growing, chasing, seeping deeper into their world. Surely, the pitter patter of the rain on the rooftop and the impending doom of fighting Vecna caused his current insomnia. It had nothing to do with Will shivering in the bed beside him, whimpering slightly in his sleep. 

In the past year and a half of living together, Mike developed a tiered system to gauge when to wake Will up from his nightmares. 

1.) If he’s shivering or whimpering, let him sleep

2.) If he’s twitching or crying, let him sleep 

3.) If he’s thrashing or screaming, wake him up

It took a while to figure out Will needed rest more than he needed reprieve from the demons in his head. It was better than it used to be, before Will agreed to sleep in his bed instead of the crappy air mattress on the floor. Now, at least, Mike could lace their fingers together and momentarily assuage him. Even if it did nothing to keep the nightmares at bay, it made Mike feel a little better. 

The rain persisted. Mike wondered if it the temperature would drop enough tonight to turn to snow. Hawkins always looked so beautiful blanketed in white. Not that the cold would be much help in their endeavor to defeat the big bad raising literal hell around him. He likes it cold. 

The watch on his wrist read 4:33AM. Maybe it was close enough to morning to sneak down to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee, pour over the city blueprints and figure out how the hell they would pull off their plan. 

“No,” Will’s protestation stilled Mike’s gentle exit from the bed, “No, no, nonononono, No, NO, NO.”

As his voice rose, the intensity of Will’s shaking increased until his was rocking his entire body back and forth across the mattress, arms slamming into the side of Mike’s body. He knew what to do. 

“Will,” he whispered, barley audible over the chanted no’s coming from his best friend’s subconscious. Grabbing his shoulders and forcing him on to his back, Mike used his weight against Will, “Wake up.”

Pinned, Will fought harder, his fists punching into Mike’s ribs, legs kicking out wildly, as if he was running in his dream. Mike shifted his grip, reaching under his armpits and hoisting him up into a seated position, “Wake up.”

Head lolling back and forth, Will’s no’s persisted. Even in his sleep, he was stronger than Mike. It took fully sitting on top of him to get his legs to stop moving. He kept shoving his hands into Mike’s chest, pushing him away. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to win a tug-of-war with the sleeping boy, he used the momentum of the shove to pull him close, wrapping his arms around Will and holding him. 

“Wake up, Will. It’s just a nightmare, wake up,” he whispered into his ear, keeping his voice soft and level. A choked cry swiftly followed by a sharp inhale lets him know he’s finally broken free of the terror. 

Will’s body goes slack in his arms, head dropping onto Mike’s shoulder as the tears over take him. His sobs are nearly as violent as his punches, body convulsing, tears and spit smearing into Mike’s t-shirt. With soothing hands, he rubs his back, quiet shushes whispering through his teeth. Usually, this works. Will calms down and curls into himself, laying down to meet a few more hours of fretful sleep. When they wake up in the morning, they never talk about it. Mike doesn’t know if Will even remembers it the next day. 

The sobs morph into something more dangerous; Will begins to hyperventilate, sucking in harsh breath after harsh breath, spasming into the hold Mike has on him.  

“Hey,” Mike eases the boy off his shoulder, trying to catch his eye, “Breath. It’s okay, just breath.”

Panic riddles Will’s face, eyes darting across the other boy’s face, searching, pleading for help. Mike isn’t sure why he does what he does next. He just needs to interrupt the attack, pull Will fully out of whatever is withholding air from his lungs. Both hands on his face, Mike closes his mouth over Will’s. It’s wet and dry in the worst way; chapped lips and snot and tears.

He wouldn’t call it a kiss, per se, but he stays there until he’s felt Will take two more steady breaths in and out of his nose. Finally, he stills. Mike rests their foreheads together, sure that the worst is over. 

Will croaks, “Are you real?” 

Before Mike can respond, Will leans away, frantic again, reaching to trace his hands over Mike’s cheeks, nose, lips. Furthering confusion, he grabs the bottom of Mike’s shirt, sloppily yanking it over his head. His breathing speeds up and Mike worries he’ll start hyperventilating again. 

In the dark, he drags his hands over Mike’s chest, reminding him of when they went camping four years ago and checked each other for ticks. He presses his fingers into the flesh between Mike’s ribs. It hurts. He flinches. Immediately, Will stops. His hand lays flat over Mike’s heart and collapses his head back to his shoulder. Mike can feel him taking long, slow breaths. He reaches one hand over the one on his heart, and the other to the back of Will’s neck, matching his inhales. 

Eventually, Will speaks, “He was… you - he, he had you, he was you. And he tried to-to rip your heart… he… you - it was beating in his hand, your hand. He was laughing…I couldn’t - I couldn’t,” a small sob interrupts his speech. 

Adjusting his hand, Mike tilts Will’s face away from his shoulder to meet his eye, caressing his damp cheek, “I’m here. I’m me, I promise. This is real.” 

Fingers dig into his chest. Will looks angry, disbelieving, “Then why would you do that?” 

Mike suddenly snaps back into his own body, straddling his best friend, holding him tenderly, lips still buzzing and coated in spit that’s not his own. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move. 

“I don’t know,” it sounds lame as he says it and he can’t help but look down at Will’s mouth. There were a million other ways he could have stopped a panic attack. He was acting on impulse. Not thinking. Classic Mike. No control, only Will; making sure he was safe, protected, alive, his.

The realization dawns on him as he drags his gaze back up to Will’s. It scares the shit out of him. The whole world tilts on its axis and he repeats, “I don’t know.” 

“I do,” and Will’s kissing him, properly kissing him now, the intention fervent and demanding. The tangle of their bodies becomes further knotted as they press into each other. Hands in hair and grabbing hips, insisting they meld into one person. Will licks into Mike’s mouth like he’s trying to taste a secret. Mike breaks the kiss only to nibble a trail across Will’s jaw to his ear.

“It’s real,” his voice his horse, tickling down Will’s neck. 

  Mike doesn’t know how it happened, but he’s under Will, stretched long against the mattress, clutching onto both of Will’s hands like they are his anchor to Earth. Chest heaving, hair mussed from his hands, a flush coloring down his face and neck, Mike’s fairly certain Will above him is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

“Prove it,” Will says, releasing him. Magnetized, Mike can’t help but reach to chase the touch. They’ve completely switched positions. It’s jarring, feeling so small under his best friend. The power Will had over him for years now manifested in the flesh, Mike unable to fight against the crushing weight of his feelings any longer. It’s too much. He deflects. 

“Does Vecna kiss you often in your nightmares?” Mike’s joke is undercut by the fact he sounds jealous and absolutely wrecked. He must have made a mistake because Will shifts off of him, sitting on the far side of the bed. Mike shivers, cold in the absence of Will. 

Eyes closed, head leaned back on the bed frame, Will whispers, “Only when he’s pretending to be you.” 

The confession hangs in the air. 

Vecna hunts for the weakest parts, exploiting the pain and riding on the shame. Will has woken up from the feeling of Mike’s cold, slippery lips chasing him into the dark enough times to know tonight was different. It had to be real. The heat of his hands feel like they left burn marks on his skin. There’s no way Vecna could feel like fire. He likes it cold. His eyes fly open, landing on the painting hanging on the other side of the room. His painting. His heart. His lie. Something twists in his gut and surely he’s still asleep, the vision of Mike - no Vecna - clawing into his own chest and holding his heart out to Will, his low voice taunting, This is what you wanted, right? My Heart. 

Mike’s movement snaps him out of it. He lays on his side so he can fully look at Will, voice measured and careful, “Do you remember the first time you played me a record? We were like, 10, or something. It took us forever to figure out how to get the player to work. You were so excited. It was the first time I listened to Bowie,” Mike smiles, remembering the feeling of the carpet under his fingers as Will changed his life. 

Will turns to him, the memory surfacing in his mind’s eye: They listened to it front to back, then put it on again. They listened over and over until Jonathan stormed in, pissed they’d snuck into his room.  

Mike keeps going, “If Vecna ever takes me, play Heroes, okay? Put those stupid headphones over my ears and turn up the volume because that song takes me right back to you.”

A lump rises in Will’s throat, face contorting, “That makes me think I’m still in a nightmare.” 

Mike sits up, offended, “What? How?” 

Groaning into his palms, Will elaborates, “That’s my Vecna song. My subconscious really wants to fuck with me tonight.” 

He scrubs at his face, lightly slapping his cheeks, trying to wake himself up. It’s not working. Then Mike pinches him. It’s a mean pinch, biting with nails on a little tiny patch of skin  on his forearm. 

“Ouch! What the hell?” Will swats Mike’s hand away, glaring. He’s met with that stupid, soft smile he’s only ever seen when they are alone together. 

“Would an inter-dimensional demon do that? Or this?” Mike’s fingers attack him, tickling under his armpits and rib cage. 

“Mike!” He yelps, unable to help the laughter escaping, too loud in the silence of the house. He’s unrelenting.  Will tries to grab at his wrists, but he dodges, launching himself to the same side of the bed. 

Mike won’t stop because he can’t remember the last time he heard Will laugh. 

“Mercy! Mercy!” Will’s gasping out between giggles. 

“Not until you admit you’re awake.” 

“I’m awake!” Will pleads. Mike crosses his arms and flops back to his side of the bed, reveling in the joy radiating from Will. 

“Was that so hard?” He asks. Will rolls his eyes, ignoring his racing pulse. If he is awake that means…

“You kissed me.” 

For the first time tonight, Will looks fully alert, attention fully focused, searing into Mike. He gulps. 

“I did,” Mike picks at the hangnail on his thumb. The fidget confirms reality for Will. Vecna moves with purpose, no wasted energy on the small idiosyncrasies that make Mike Mike.  

“Did you want to?” He presses. The question sends Mike reeling:

Will on the swings that first day.

Will in his basement rolling his first nat 20.

Will showing him his sketch book and swearing him to secrecy.

Will getting pulled from the river. 

Will, alive, in the hospital bed.

Will sabotaging Dustin at the arcade and nearly getting away with it until Mike saw.

Will tied to the chair, eyes black and screaming.

Will holding up his shirt to show him where the fire poker left its brand.

Will sitting next to him at the movie theater, sipping the same soda.

Will in the rain, running away.

Will at the roller rink, pleading.

Will by his dresser, agreeing that they are best friends.

Will with a shovel in his hand, looking radiant in the desert sun.

Will standing next to him at the pizza dough freezer, telling him how to love El. 

Because he didn’t know how to love El. 

Because he’s in love with somebody else. 

“Yeah, I did,” Mike whispers, “I’m sorry.”  What he’s apologizing for, he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s sorry it happened. Or maybe he’s sorry that it’s exactly what he wants. He’s sorry it took so long to realize. He’s sorry he’s the demon in Will’s head. He’s sorry Will’s first instinct was to assume it wasn’t real. He’s just sorry. And if he keeps picking at this damn hangnail, he’s going to bleed. 

The bed dips as Will scoots closer, “Please don’t be.” 

Will’s holding his chin now, turning him to meet his eyes. Using his thumb, he traces the line of Mike’s mouth. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for most of my life, Mike,” he watches the pattern his finger draws. He wonders if he could recreate this mouth from touch memory alone, “Please don’t say you’re sorry.” 

Mike has been the dungeon master for most of their DnD campaigns. He’s used to waxing poetic at the roll of a die. Most of the time, he doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up but right now, all that he can muster is, “Ok.” 

Will pauses his ministrations, “I’m going to try something, is that alright?” 

Mike nods. That’s all he needs. Slowly, Will leans in, giving the other boy every opportunity to pull back. He doesn’t. 

It starts small, a  brush of lips. Will holds firm to Mike’s face, his palm warming with the blush of his cheek. A little gasp escapes his mouth, the gap it leaves allowing him to deepen the kiss. Mike tastes stale, the faint hint of toothpaste lingering on his tongue. 

Before Vecna corrupted his daydreams, he would worry that their faces wouldn’t fit together if they kissed. A nose would get in the way or his teeth would be too big. To his delight, he needn’t fear. They fit together. With feather-light fingers, Will let his other hand run down Mike’s back, starting at the top of his spine. The motion sparks something fiery, igniting Mike into action. 

Blindly, he tangles a hand in Will’s hair, tugging him closer. A noise Will has never made before spurs him on. He wants to hear it again. He wants to catalogue every gasp and sigh, make a new system to know how, exactly, to make him whimper into his mouth like that. He’s crawling back into his lap, pushing him firmly into the headboard. Will must be letting him. God, does that not make him want more. He tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth, unsure why, but it works. The noise, the glorious noise. He soothes the bite with his tongue. Then, an awful thought passes through his mind. He jerks away. 

“Oh my god. Will, is this your first kiss?” 

To his surprise and delight, Will laughs. The motion quakes through him, rocking them both. 

“No,” Will shakes his head. Mike shrinks back, self conscious now that its apparent Will is laughing at him. 

“Who was it?” Jealousy creeps back into his tone. 

“Why does that matter right now?” Will’s still laughing. It’s almost enough to make Mike crack a smile. 

“It would have been awful if your first kiss was me trying to get you to breath,” he defends, “Or if it was some asshole in California.” 

Will hums, self satisfied, “I’ll tell you about it someday, if you really want to know.”

Mike thinks of the plushness of his best friend’s lips, the electricity thrumming through every point of contact he made with his body. The monster in his chest nearly growls at the thought of someone else in his place.

"Did you also rip his shirt off at the first opportunity?" he doesn't mean for it to be funny, but it sets Will off again. He doesn't like being left out of the joke. It must show on his face because the next thing he knows, Will’s talking again. 

“Even though I think you look really cute when you’re jealous, we’ll have to save that conversation for a different time. Honestly, I am really tired,” a yawn punctuates his point. Simultaneously, Mike feels the most awake he’s been in months and so sleep deprived he could doze off and wake up next year. Will leans in for a peck. 

“C’mon, let’s go back to sleep. I have a feeling I won’t have anymore nightmares tonight,” Will smiles.

Mike rolls off him, nestling into the pillows, “C’mere,” he opens his arms. Will accepts the invitation, wrapping his arm around Mike in kind. They adjust, trying to avoid any limbs losing feeling in their sleep. Will tucks his head under Mikes chin. 

Fatigue settles in their bones. For the first time in a long time, they’re not afraid  of giving over to it.

Chapter Text

“Was everything okay?” Nancy’s owl-like expression shines in the low lamp light of her room. Jonathan slips back into bed beside her, grimacing. 

“Um… yeah. Everything’s fine,” he gives his shoulders a little shake and tries to settle into the pillows. 

“Was my brother being an asshole?” She needles him. They both woke up to the sound of crying. Ever since they moved into the Wheeler’s house, Jonathan stopped smoking weed before bed. It made him an extraordinarily light sleeper. Nancy wasn’t that much better. In the first few weeks, he nearly insisted he and Will share a room, instead, given the frequency of his brother’s nightmares and his constant sneaking down the hall to check on him. As time went on, it seemed like the nightmares ceased. He and Nancy were able to sleep through the night. 

Tonight was the first time in months he was jostled awake by the sound of his brother in distress. It was loud enough to rouse Nancy. They both sat up, straining to hear the commotion. Initially, he was ready to ignore it and tuck back to bed. Then he heard his brother say Mercy, and he jumped out of bed to investigate. 

Creeping down the hall, he could hear Mike say I’m sorry. He increases his pace, unable to make out what Will said in response. 

The bedroom door was cracked a few inches. Ready to grab the handle and push it open all the way, he saw the two boys on the bed. Kissing. He let the door go and hurried back to Nancy’s room. 

“No?” He responds in a question, still trying to wrap his mind around what he witnessed. 

She raises a very pointed eyebrow at him, throws the blankets off her legs, and gets out of bed. 

“What are you doing?” Jonathan whisper-yells as his girlfriend starts to leave the room. 

“Giving him a piece of my mind, some of us have to sleep,” she’s gone before Jonathan can stop her. On the one hand, he probably has enough time to catch her before she sees anything. On the other, if she saw it for herself, he wouldn’t be betraying Will’s trust if he talks to her about it. It had been hard enough watching his brother hopelessly pine for his best friend. He tries to be there for him, but he doesn’t know what advice to give. He’d hopelessly pined after Nancy for a while and it worked out great. There wasn’t a manual for how to help your gay brother get over his straight friend. He figured, like any adolescent crush, it would fade with time and space. Space, however, was particularly hard to come by when they were sharing a room. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must be. Well, maybe not that hard if Mike wasn’t as straight as he assumed. Holy shit they were kissing.

Nancy’s jaw is on the floor when she sneaks back into the room. Tenderly, she closes the door behind her and turns to him. 

“Oh my god,” she rushes into the bed and repeats, “Oh my god.” 

“I know,” Jonathan matches her tone. 

“Oh my god,” she looks over her shoulder, keeping her voice down to make sure they can’t overhear, “Did you know about this?”

“I mean, I knew Will had a crush on Mike,” Jonathan shrugs. Nancy looks murderous.

“And you didn’t say anything?!” Despite speaking quietly, Jonathan feels thoroughly chastised. 

“It wasn’t my secret to tell! Will deserves some privacy,” he defends, “And I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nancy glowers at him and he’s struck by how similar her and Mike can be at times. 

“I just mean, a lot of people would be weirded out,” before Nancy can respond, he pushes on, “Like, remember a few weeks ago, your dad was reading the paper and he said something along the lines of ‘why do they have to report about the gay plague, we have enough problems here.’ Nobody said anything. I literally watched Will get up from the table and we didn’t see him the rest of the day. Plus, your parents voted for Regan.”

“That doesn’t mean I have a problem with,” she looks over her shoulder again and dips her head like it’s a secret, “Gay people. It’s fine if your brother likes boys.” 

“It looks like your brother likes boys, too. Are you okay with that?” Jonathan isn’t sure if he wants to know. There are certain topics him and Nancy don’t talk about. Like the fact he never actually applied to Emerson or whatever happened between her and Steve while he was in California. 

Her eyebrow is raised again when she says, “We are literally fighting an army from a different dimension, I think we have bigger issues right now that whether or not I’m okay with my brother kissing boys.” 

Huh. That’s not how he wanted her to respond. Jonathan recoils further away from her, unsettled by the implication of her non-answer to his question. Without words, she can tell she’s fucked up. 

“I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t care if he’s gay. It’s fine if he’s gay!” She rushes out, emphasizing her point by laying a hand on Jonathan’s thigh, “I actually had suspicions of my own. Didn’t you notice that the air mattress in Mike’s room has been deflated for, like, almost a year now? They have to be sharing a bed,” then her brow furrows again, “But he’s not gay, right? He’s with El. I don’t care if he’s kissing Will every night but I am pretty disappointed that he’s a cheater. That’s not fair to either of them.” 

Jonathan had not thought about that. The slight irritation he feels turns into full blown rage at Mike. He knew that little shit was an asshole. He needs to stop this. He needs to stop this right now. Nancy increases the pressure on his thigh, preventing him from moving.

“Wait, don’t go yell at him right now. It’s like 5AM, you’ll wake everyone up and have to explain yourself,” her voice is heavy with consequence. Right. He risks outing Will if he goes and punches Mike in the face. 

“Let’s just try to go back to sleep for a few hours. We can talk to him in the morning, away from everyone,” she suggests. Jonathan deflates, knowing she makes a good point. 

“Fine. But I have every right to kick him in the nuts tomorrow,” Jonathan says. Nancy laughs. 

“Sure, but let’s try to talk to him first? I’m sure this is really confusing for him and you know how Mike can be when he doesn’t understand something,” she snuggles next to him, placing a light kiss to his cheek. Jonathan shifts away, still a little upset. 

He turns and meets her eyes, “But you’re okay with it? Really?” 

Nancy holds his hand and squeezes, “I am okay with it. I’m friends with Robin, aren’t I?”

“What?” Jonathan has no idea what she’s talking about. 

“Really? I thought you were the observant one. Why do you think Steve and Robin never got together?” 

“Because Steve peaked in high school and everyone can see what a loser he is?” Jonathan jokes. He doesn’t really believe it, but it’s nice to take a dig at him every once in a while. Old grudges and all that. Nancy shoves him.

“Don’t be mean. Robin’s a lesbian, Jonathan. I’m pretty sure that red haired girl she volunteers with is her girlfriend.” 

Jonathan’s mind is blown. Despite his earlier claim, he did wonder why Robin and Steve never got together. They were functionally inseparable. He has seen Vickie around more often, carpooling with them, showing up at random events. And they are pretty touchy-feely with each other. Huh. He’d never really thought about it. It makes sense. Nancy chuckles under her breath and tugs the covers up to her chin, nudging him to cuddle her properly.

*********

Mike has no idea where they are going. Jonathan and Nancy were so weird when they demanded he join them on some mysterious errand. He is, quite frankly, pissed off that they insisted Will couldn’t come. Partially because Will is prone to getting possessed by the Upside Down and primarily because he wanted to finish breakfast, drag him back upstairs, and perhaps kiss him again. Whatever. He’s stuck in the backseat of Jonathan’s shitty car going god knows where to do god knows what. 

“Why won’t you guys tell me what we are doing? This is not part of the plan,” he whines. 

Nancy throws a piece of trash at him, “Shut up. We will tell you when we get there.” 

Mike dodges the trash and sticks his tongue out at her. She rolls her eyes, hard. Jonathan hasn’t stopped glaring at him through the rearview since they started driving. 

“Can we at least change the music? This shit is depressing,” Mike crosses his arms in a huff. Jonathan turns up the volume. Eventually, they park right in front of the movie theater. Mike scowls, “Did we have a popcorn emergency?” 

“Shut up,” this time it’s Jonathan who speaks. Mike reaches over to open the car door, only to be met with the lock clicking. 

“Are you kidnapping me?” 

Both of the older siblings turn around, share a look, then stare at him. As if rehearsed, Nancy starts talking. 

“We need to have a conversation with you,” she sounds scarily like their mother. Mike wants to throw up. 

“This couldn’t happen at the house, where we are, you know, safe?” He couldn’t ignore the sheer amount of armored vehicles they passed as they drove downtown. Or the broken pavement leaking Upside Down into their town, the small details of the end of the world. Nancy ignores him. 

“Do you remember when Steve and I broke up?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, barreling on, “He got really angry and painted something awful on this marquee. You can still kind of see it if you squint. Jonathan and him got into a fight about it.” 

Mike leans forward to try to see the marquee. Jonathan shoves him back. 

“What the hell, dude, get your hands off me!” Mike is really fucking mad now, but he does remember the fight. He remembers Steve showed up to school with a gnarly black eye and maybe he shouldn’t be picking any physical altercations with Jonathan at this moment. He harrumphs back to the middle seat, “Why are you telling me all this? What does it have to do with anything?” 

Nancy shoots a warning look to Jonathan before continuing, “What Steve did was horrible but he only did it because he thought I’d cheated on him. Which I didn’t! Because it’s really shitty to cheat on people, especially good people. Like El.” 

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, “What are you talking about?”

“We saw you last night with Will,” Jonathan says, violence tinging the edge of his voice. The threat of vomit increases and Mike looks to the door in panic. He’s got to get out of here. Embarrassment floods down to his toes. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Maybe he can get out of the car and throw himself into one of the rifts. 

“Let me out,” he commands. He tugs on the door handle a few times, more desperate with each yank. 

“You don’t get to do this to Will. He is a good person and, for some reason, he really likes you,” Jonathan speaks over his commotion. Mike gawks at him. 

“What are you, like, spying on us? That’s creepy as shit, dude. I’m not doing anything!” Well, that’s not true. He wasn’t doing anything. He’d really like to be doing something significantly more fun than this bazaar confrontation. 

“You were kissing him last night. We saw you. It’s completely inappropriate to cheat on your girlfriend,” Nancy purses her lips when she is done making her point. Mike wants to tear his hair out. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend! El broke up with me last year. Which you didn’t even notice, thank you very much. It would have been cool to talk to you about it but, again, if you haven’t noticed, WE HAVE BIGGER PROBLEMS TO DEAL WITH RIGHT NOW,” Mike’s shouting and gesturing to the destruction outside the car. 

Jonathan and Nancy speak at the same time:

“Don’t yell in my car.”

“Oh my god, Mike, I’m so sorry.” 

They turn to each other. Nancy widens her eyes, thinking Be nice to him.

Jonathan hits her with a mental, This guy? No way.

Nancy gives him a stern look. Jonathan backs down. Mike groans. 

“Can we please go back to the house now?”

Focusing on him with a gentle smile, Nancy asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jonathan starts the car again and Mike could kiss him. Wait, wrong brother. Nancy still watches him, waiting for him to answer. 

“I’m over it, it’s fine,” he shrugs, a little smile playing on his lips. He’s more than fine. He gets to go home and see Will. Nancy looks mischievous when she asks: 

“Did Will help with that?” 

Mike blushes. When he thinks he can’t fight a full blown smile, he catches Jonathan’s eye in the rearview, murder in his eyes. He darts his eyes down to his hands and picks at his hangnail. Nancy flicks him to get him to stop. He rolls his eyes at her. 

“No. I mean yes, but not like you think,” he explains, “It’s not like this has been going on for a long time or anything. Last night was the first time we… yeah,” that rift looks really appealing right now. His gaze is glued to the passing town. Last night was awesome. He has brand new motivation to cure this town of death and destruction, to keep his best friend (more than a friend?) safe from it all. He rests his chin in his hand, covering his mouth and the smile that’s won the battle.   

Jonathan is hit with a sense of deja vu. The last time he peered at a boy fighting emotion through the rearview of his car, all he could do was drive to the next destination. Not this time. 

“Mike,” he can feel Nancy warning him with her mind, “I’m sorry we assumed the worst. That was - uh,” he clears his throat, “Not cool. But Will’s been through a lot and I didn’t want to see you hurt him again.” 

The accusation snuffs the joy out of Mike, “Hurt him? I’ve spent the last year and a half keeping him safe! I mean,” he falters, thinking of the pain in Will’s face when he woke up last night, “I’m trying.” 

His voice breaks a little at the end, knowing that no matter how hard he tries, he’s never going to be like El or Hopper or Max or even his sister; the people who can use their minds or guns or sheer will power to take on Vecna. All he can do is sit at the dining room table and plan. Think through every scenario and strategize around the group’s strengths. El’s warning from a few days ago comes back to him You don’t get to write the ending. 

“Hey, we know,” Nancy resists the urge to smack Jonathan, “You’re doing so much, Mike. We see that. We’re in this together, right? That’s what you said. So if you want to talk about it, I’m here. Jonathan’s here.”

Mike doubts that but he appreciates the sentiment. He can tell she’s waiting for him to open up but that’s never really been his style. Where would he even begin? Hey, Nance, I’m constantly terrified everyone I love is going to die and I can’t do anything to stop it except for sometimes hold my best friends hand in the middle of the night the best friend who I also just found out I might like as more than a friend and does that make me gay now and would everyone hate me because I’m pretty sure Jonathan hates me for free, even without me kissing his brother, because I was a grade-a douche bag the whole time he was in California which I haven’t even apologized for yet and oh yeah, thanks for asking about my break-up clearly my problems are not at the top of anyones mind right now which really makes me feel super duper important in the grand scheme of things but it’s unfair of me to expect Lucas or Dustin to hear me out because oh, look, there’s another fully armored tank outfitted with flame throwers and what if Vecna takes me next I don’t think I could fight him off because I genuinely don’t know when the last time I got a good nights sleep was and do you think Max is ever going to wake up a year is a really long time to be in a coma and if Will and I do end up together after all this, does that mean I have to sit in Hopper’s cruiser again and shit my pants with fear? 

He lets out a big sigh and hangs his head before muttering a soft, “Thanks, Nance.” 

The Smiths continue to drone over the radio, providing a melancholy soundtrack to the deluge of negative thoughts tangoing around Mike’s head. He begs, “Can we please put something else on? Like, anything else.” 

Jonathan turns the volume down a tad before saying, “Will loves The Smiths.” 

Mike grits his teeth, “I know that.” 

With all this new information, Jonathan debates how to proceed. Mike, while dickish, does care. He’s really stepped up the past few months. Planning, bossing people around, making the right calls about who goes where, when. Maybe the reason Will is getting some sleep has a lot to do with the irritated boy in his backseat. He itches to reach into his glove compartment and whip out a little purple palm tree delight. 

“I’m trying to help you,” Jonathan tells him, hands firmly on the wheel, “I know what he likes.” 

Internally, Mike flips him off. He takes a deep breath, “No offense, dude, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea about what Will likes.” 

Jonathan shudders, “Ew. No. That’s not - I don’t mean that. He likes you. He likes you enough that he’s probably never talked to you about how you made him feel like shit. You forgot his birthday, man.” 

“I didn’t forget!” Mike’s shame runs his blood cold, “I was just too far up my own ass to do anything for it.” 

He remembered. The entire flight, he was holding that stupid bouquet trying to come up with something, anything, that could suffice as a gift. Then El hit that girl in the face at the roller rink and the cops and the FBI and the shootout and and and. 

Jonathan is silent for a moment. That level of self reflection surprises him. Damnit. He wants Will to be happy. If this scrawny kid is the key to that, then all he can do is be supportive. 

“Listen, we all make mistakes, okay? If you’re going to… date or whatever, you need to apologize to him. Honestly, I think he’s already forgiven you. But I don’t want my brother thinking it’s okay to be forgotten like that. He blames himself enough already for everything that’s happening.”

Two years ago, Mike would have bitten his head off. He’s trying to be better, more calm, actually take a breath and listen to what people are saying instead of flying off the handle at any hint of disappointing someone. Fear roils in his gut, “Okay, okay. Yeah. But can you guys, like, keep this between us for right now? I think Will and I have a lot to figure out and I have no idea how my parents…” the end of his sentence dies in his throat. 

Nancy jumps into action, “Don’t worry about Mom and Dad. We won’t say anything. Right, Jonathan?” 

He nods, holding Nancy’s hand in his own, “Your secret’s safe with us. Just don’t make him feel like a secret, you know?”

Mike gulps. He knows, “Yeah. I get it.”

Does he? Last night was impulsive. There’s so much he hasn’t thought through. No plan for what to do next. He leans his head against the window, listening to the sad man sing his song:

Sing me to sleep, 

Sing me to sleep 

I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore. 

*********

Will watches the car pull into the driveway from the kitchen table and resists the urge to jump up and greet them at the door. When he made it downstairs (staving off a panic attack because holy shit did last night really happen?), Mike was already gone. Mrs. Wheeler let him know the three kids had an early errand to run while she made him eggs. He tried to stomach them, feeling queasy. 

“Everything’s okay, honey. It didn’t seem like an emergency. I think we are all looking for an excuse to get out of the house these days,” Karen smiled at him. For someone who found out her children had been fighting monsters for years without her knowledge, she was taking the whole ‘end of the world thing’ pretty well. Will had no idea why Nancy and Mike were such pessimists when their mother was a literal ray of sunshine. Maybe the only Wheeler to inherit her joy was Holly. She’s sat next to him, coloring in a drawing Will doodled yesterday. 

Will watches Nancy get out of the car and pull Mike into a hug. That’s weird. Jonathan says something to them and Mike nods, looking disgruntled. What the hell is going on?

He doesn’t wait long for an answer. As soon as Mike is through the door, he makes a beeline for him, pulling him away from the table and dragging him to the stairs. 

“Mike, sweetie, don’t you want breakfast?” His mom shouts after them. 

“I’m fine, Mom,” he yells back, sounding irritated by the suggestion. When they get to his room, he slams the door. Will stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to make of the pacing boy in front of him. 

“Are you okay?” Will asks. Mike doesn’t slow his pacing. 

“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” he runs his hands through his hair. Will wants to sink into the floor. He regrets kissing him. That has to be it. He woke up this morning, disgusted by the way Will clung to him, and ran away. Now he’s getting up the courage to let him down easy. Fuck. 

“Look, Mike, don’t worry about last night. I was freaking out and you were trying to help. It’s no big deal. We can just forget about it,” years of lying like this has made Will rather good at it. Mike stops pacing. He’s staring at him like he’s crazy. 

“Forget about it?” He repeats. Will shifts on his feet. 

“Yeah, I mean, whatever you want,” he can’t meet his eyes. That’s why it takes him a second catch up to the fact that Mike’s hands are on his face, pulling him into a searing kiss. 

He stumbles and Mike holds him steady, pushing him softly into the wall near the door. Once his brain gets with the program, he fists his hands in Mike’s shirt and pulls him flush against his body. It’s so different than last night, hungrier, more desperate. Will gets the sense that Mike is trying to communicate something to him without words. As much as he wants to lose himself in it, he breaks away. 

“Whoa,” not his most eloquent turn of phrase but it works. Mike lets out a shaky breath and steps back, allowing Will some space to get off the wall. 

“Sorry,” Mike wipes his hands over his face and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. Will gingerly follows him. Automatically, Mike takes his hand, “I wanted to do that all morning.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I had this idea that I’d wake up and bring you coffee in bed then we could, I dunno, spend the rest of the day doing that. Then Jonathan cornered me in the kitchen -“

“Jonathan?” 

“And Nancy. They um,” Mike’s palm gets sweaty, “Sort of saw us last night? They thought I was still with El so they took me to the movie theater to tell me to back off so I had to explain everything and it was so awkward. I’m sorry for being so weird. It’s not because I wanted to forget about last night or… or that I didn’t want to. But they did make a good point and I think maybe we need to talk.” 

Will has so many questions, stuck on the saw us last night portion of Mike’s little speech. He figures he has time to be mortified later. Right now, he needs to get this constipated look off of Mike’s face. 

“We can talk,” he squeezes his hand in encouragement. Mike looks at him, so warm and sweet. Will thinks he could melt in that gaze. It takes a lot of self control not to kiss him again. Neither of them say anything, staring at each other like dopey idiots. Will wiggles his eyebrows, “Are you going to say anything…?” 

Mike laughs, “Right, sorry. Um,” his eyes flit to his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them, “I really like kissing you.”

Will hesitates, there seems to be a ‘but’ coming. He holds his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Honestly, what happened last night, it made sense, you know? Like I feel like something finally clicked for me. But I don’t know if that’s, um, fair? To you? Maybe I took advantage or… I don’t know. There’s just so much going on and I haven’t really been thinking straight or sleeping, at all, because I’ve been so worried about you. And that makes me think, man, I’m always worried about you. You’re, like, the first person I think about all the time. Even before all this, the Upside Down, Vecna, everything. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe. But I haven’t done a very good job. You’re always in danger. And what you said last night? About him pretending to be me to get to you? That’s… that’s so fucked, Will. That I can be in your head and hurting you. And I know it’s probably because I hurt you in real life, too. At least, that’s what Jonathan was saying. I think he had a point. And I’m really, really sorry.”

Will lets out his breath, “Mike, it’s okay.” 

Agitated, Mike stands back up, like the energy of his thoughts is too much to keep him contained to sitting. 

“No, it’s not okay. I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t guarantee that I won’t hurt you more if - if…” he trails off. Will is certain that if he tries to respond, he will start crying. That can’t happen, so he just waits for Mike to finish his sentence. 

“How did you know you were gay?” Mike’s question startles him into a coughed laugh. Is he for real right now? The tension in his eyebrows and shoulders make it clear that he’s being quite serious. Will bites his cheek to stop from laughing. 

“I mean, kissing a guy helped,” he tries to lighten the mood but it has the opposite effect. Mike turns green. He hurries to his next thought, “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. This is just crazy.” 

“You’re making me feel real great about myself, Byers,” Mike sasses. Will takes this as a good sign. He gathers his thoughts, wanting to be articulate and careful for what he says next. The tension rises in the room the longer the silence stretches. 

“Everyone told me I was gay before I had a chance to figure it out for myself. Even my dad,” Mike looks furious so he holds up a hand to keep him from interrupting, “It’s fine. He was right. He was a prick about it, like Troy and all those guys, so I didn’t really face it until…” Will remembers tearing down Castle Byers in the rain, wishing he could tear out the part of his heart that wanted to be the one kissing Mike. He takes a breath,  “Jesus. Okay. Yeah. I didn’t really start accepting that it was true until I left for California. I was finally away from all the bullshit here in Hawkins. I met this guy.”

Will needs to tread carefully here. Mike seems like a medium gust of wind could push him over, “Do you want to sit down?” 

Mike shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, “No. Just- I’m fine. Keep going.” 

Liar, Will says with a crooked eyebrow, but he proceeds, “He was out. There was this one day at the beginning of the school year, he was sitting behind me in chemistry, and he saw me doodling,” Will doesn’t add pictures of your face, and clears his throat, flopping back on the bed and fixing his eyes to the ceiling,“It was pretty obvious that I was drawing a guy I had a crush on, so he asked me about it. It was the first time someone clocked me and it didn’t feel like a bad thing. He was genuinely curious. At first, I totally denied it. It was really scary to be seen like that. He was really, um, helpful,” Will can’t help the blush that takes over his face, the little secret smile that curls on his lips. The bed dips next to him. He tries to tamp down the memory for Mike’s sake. 

“You kissed him?” 

Will thinks if he tells Mike the truth about everything they got up to, he would fully combust, so he just says, “Mhm. It was fun for a while but it was never going to become a real thing.” 

“Why not?” Mike’s back is to him. Will wishes he could see his face, but he knows this next part would be impossible to get through if he actually had to watch the information land in Mike’s head. 

“For one thing, I’m pretty fucked up. It’s not like I could be honest with him about all of this,” even though Mike can’t see him, he gestures out the window, then he gets his courage up, “And… he knew I was in love with somebody else.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Cool?”

Mike scrambles, “Yeah. Cool. Whatever. You with another guy. That’s um. Cool.”

Will waits. Mike doesn’t say anything. He sighs and sits up, knowing one of them has to be the brave one in this moment. 

“Mike, look at me,” he turns his friend’s face toward his with a light finger under his chin. Mike’s mouth parts a little, like he’s on the cusp of saying something. He doesn’t let him, “I know this can be super overwhelming, so don’t panic, okay? I’m not expecting you to feel the same way. You’re my best friend and that’s enough, alright?” 

“Feel the same way?” He echoes. Will pleads with him. 

“Mike,” don’t make me say it again. Mike presses their foreheads together and whispers in a rush:

“I love you. I don’t know what’s going to happen or what this means for us, but I love you,” Mike’s grabbing onto him now, “Seriously. I know I’ve been a total idiot but you have to believe me. I want to be your heart and keep you safe and learn what it means to love you when all of this is over. I love you so much it keeps me awake at night. I don't know what to do with all of it.” 

Will decides he’s had enough of holding himself back and kisses him. He kisses the love right off of his lips. When he’s met with equal enthusiasm, he pushes, ready to revel in the feeling of Mike loving him back. He loves me he loves me he loves me. He wishes he could freeze time, stay here forever, holding him close. 

Mike, for the first time all day, feels a wave of calm wash over him. All of his fear from earlier, disappointing Will or his parents, what it would mean if he really was gay, none of it matters. Nothing has ever felt so right in his entire life. 

Rudely, the walkie on his bedside table crackles and Dustin’s voice fills the room, “This is a code red. All hands on deck. This is a code red. Over.” 

The boys break apart, panting into each other’s mouths. Will wants to scream. Can he ever catch a break?

“Fuck. Guess it’s time to go save the world,” Mike jokes. 

Will holds his face in his palms and asks, “Together?”

There's no guarantee that Mike will be able to keep Will protected when they leave this house. He steels himself against the fear, silently vowing to do anything it takes to win.  Like a promise of forever, Mike nods, “Together.”