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When Mike finally gets off the plane, he’s nervous. Anxiety buzzes under his skin, his hands clammy and mouth dry. Knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the handle of his suitcase.
When he makes his way through the airport clutching a bouquet of flowers tightly in one of his hands, his mind isn’t on the person they’re for, his girlfriend El, but on her brother Will, who’s also Mike’s best friend. Which would be fine in normal circumstances, but this isn’t a normal circumstance, because that’s all he’s thinking about. Will’s been the only thing on his mind for the past few weeks. Months, even.
And when he finally catches sight of the Byers waiting for him, his eyes immediately pass over El. She is waving and calling out Mike’s name eagerly, but his gaze skips her and instead locks onto the one boy that Mike’s recently been getting butterflies thinking about.
And holy fuck.
Will is— different. He’s not the small, baby-faced boy that Mike hugged goodbye 6 months ago. No, he’s… broader, taller. He’s handsome. Unfortunately, Mike doesn’t get much time to stare, because the next thing he knows El is throwing herself into his arms and planting a big kiss on his lips. And so he tears his gaze away from Will and kisses his girlfriend back, because that’s what normal boyfriends would do in this situation, but his mind is still stuck on his hot-as-fuck best friend. El squeezes him tightly and he struggles to breathe for a moment.
“Careful, careful, careful, you’re squishing your present,” Mike chokes out with a small laugh, pulling away from the hug and extending the bouquet of wildflowers. “It’s a gift.” And because that sounds really stupid and he’s already established it was a present for her, he dumbly tacks on, “I uh.. handpicked those for you, in Hawkins.”
As El grabs the flowers, he takes off his sunglasses, trying his best to resist the urge to peer over El’s shoulder at Will and failing miserably. His eyes involuntarily find and lock onto the other boy for a brief moment and it feels like all the air’s been knocked out of his lungs.
Will’s— like— hot. He’s gotten taller (though still not quite as tall as Mike), he’s broad (muscular, Mike thinks, but he isn’t 100% on that because Will’s wearing a long sleeve flannel so he can’t see his arms), and he’s just grown into himself in general. He still has the dumb yet slightly endearing brown bowl cut, but it no longer frames a chubby baby face. No, Will’s face is probably the most changed thing about him; he looks like a man now. Soft curves morphed into a strong jawline over the past months, the last traces of baby fat disappearing completely.
All this swirls through Mike’s head in less than a second, and then he’s immediately back to babbling about the flowers to give his mind something to do other than think about Will. How handsome Will is. How strong he looks. How Mike wants to just— argh!
“I know you like yellow, but now I’m kind of realizing that.. it’s too much yellow. I- I know you also like purple so I got some purple as well and kind of did like a.. seventy-thirty split kind of thing?” Mike prattles on to El, thoughts growing less and less coherent as he goes on because he can see Will approaching out of the corner of his eye and— fuck. His brain is a puddle of mush at this point, and he feels like he can barely string two words together. Is this what it feels like to be drunk?
“Mike, they’re perfect, thank you,” El interrupts, giving him a small smile and then moving out of the way as Will grins hopefully at Mike, stepping forward to take his sister’s place.
Now that Will is right in front of him, Mike takes back one of his thoughts from earlier— Will isn’t maybe muscular, he’s definitely muscular. His cerulean blue flannel hugs his arms snugly and Mike half-wants to reach up and squeeze his bicep, just to see how it feels. How did Will even get this beefy? Does he work out now?
That sends Mike’s thoughts into a spiral. Will, wearing a cropped t-shirt and shorts. Will, beads of sweat gleaming on his forehead and rolling down his face as he bends down to pick up a barbell. Oh, crap. This— this is not good. Mike panics.
Will leans in for a hug, a bright smile on his face, and Mike— he just can’t. He leans back slightly and opts for wrapping one arm around Will and patting him awkwardly on the back, because his pants are growing awkwardly tight and he can’t let Will notice that. Fucking teenage hormones.
Guilt gnaws at his insides when he notices Will’s expression falter slightly, but he knows it’s better than pressing his body eagerly against Will’s in a hug just for Will to feel the bulge in Mike’s pants and get grossed the fuck out.
Because Mike doesn’t think Will’s— uh, like that. Queer. Like he is. Mike struggles to even call himself queer mentally, it’s all been a confusing blur recently. He doesn’t know what he is. He thinks he likes girls, yeah, gets off to the thought of tits or pussy. But some nights, he has… different thoughts. About men. Dark fantasies about what it would be like to wrap his lips around another boy’s length, what it would feel like to be stuffed with cock. Most of these times, his thoughts manage to make their way to Will.
At first, he was consumed with guilt. But as time went on, he let the fantasies overtake his mind. He wonders what it would be like to suck Will off. What it would feel like to fuck Will. What it would feel like to be fucked by Will.
As he thinks about that, he just gets harder, and groans internally. God, he’s really not helping his case here. He’s vaguely aware of Jonathan saying hi to him, so he glances towards him for a moment and responds in kind, before locking his eyes back onto Will.
Yeah, Mike is pretty sure Will is straight. Of course he knows about the name-calling and rumors that Will endured in Hawkins; everyone called him slurs, or a fairy, or a girl. It was a running joke throughout the town’s youth, basically. But Mike doesn’t think they’re true. El said in her latest letter that there was a girl Will likes, after all. A girl that he was making a painting for.
His eyes drift downwards slightly to the rolled-up paper in Will’s grasp. Jealousy floods him, and the question passes his lips before he can stop it.
“Uh— what’s that?”
“Uh… it’s nothing. Just this painting I’ve been working on.” Will mutters, dipping his head and averting his gaze, and Mike immediately forgets all about his jealousy.
He just about swoons. Will’s voice has dropped, like, three fucking octaves since Mike’s last seen him, and holyshit . His dick throbs in his pants, because now all he can think about is what would it be like for that deep, husky voice to whisper dirty words in his ear.
“Uh- cool!” He chokes out, nodding his head and averting his eyes because he can’t stand looking at Will any longer. He feels disgusting for thinking of his best friend in this way. But at the same time, he thinks he’s more aroused than he ever has been in his life. He’s lucky that he chose to wear a pair of his baggier shorts today, or his erection would probably be visible to everyone.
“That’s a rad shirt, man. Ocean pacific?” A guy Mike doesn’t recognize with long black hair and red-rimmed eyes addresses him. He can immediately tell that the man’s high, because he’s seen that look in Eddie’s eyes countless times before.
“Oh- uh, Mike, this is my friend Argyle.” Jonathan is quick to explain— Mike’s confusion must be obvious. He’s embarrassed at how easily the other could read his expression of confusion, but grateful for the explanation all the same.
“Oh. Hey.” He says, barely sparing a glance at Argyle before he’s peering at Will again out of the corner of his eye.
But then Argyle is moving forward and wrapping his arms around Mike, and Mike is frozen in place with no idea what to do. It’s a loose hug, so Mike doesn’t think Argyle can feel his hard-on, luckily. Then, he feels something tugging at the collar of his shirt.
“Oh, no, no no no.” Argyle says, mercifully releasing Mike from the awkward embrace and stepping back. “It’s a shitty knockoff. Yeah. But don’t sweat it man, I’ll get you the good threads out here!”
“Uh..” Mike stares at Argyle for a couple more moments, then his gaze shifts to the side yet again , where Will is standing. God, he can’t keep his eyes off of him.
“I heard a lot about your sister.” Argyle says, and Mike’s nose scrunches up in distaste. He’s not really paying attention though, because his eyes are still focused on Will, who seems blissfully unaware that Mike is watching him.
Jonathan clears his throat. “Okay, uh… should we go?”
“Yeah, this is kinda awkward, man.” Argyle comments, as if it’s just an observation, as if he’s not the one who made it awkward in the first place.
“Yeah. So awkward..” Mike grimaces, wrapping an arm around El’s shoulder to distract himself. They start to walk off, and he can hear Argyle mumble behind him.
“Man, I really thought it was ocean pacific.”
As they walk, Mike’s suitcase brushes up against the front of his shorts and he’s reminded of his throbbing erection. So much for distracting himself; he’s still absolutely rock hard. Startled by the sudden friction, he lets out a choked sound that he manages to disguise as a cough, and the others look at him with a confused expression.z
“Hey— actually— I’ve got to go to the— uh, bathroom,” Mike stammers, slipping out of El’s grasp and looking around frantically for the restroom, leaving his suitcase behind. Clearly his boner isn’t going away by itself anytime soon, so he has to take care of it himself. As soon as he catches sight of a bathroom sign, he disappears into the crowd and makes his way over there as fast as possible.
He slips into the tiled room, which is surprisingly empty for the most part, and darts into an empty stall near the end of the row, slamming the door shut behind him. A barely audible whimper escapes him as he cups his palm over the bulge straining at the front of his shorts, and he leans against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. Finally.
“Ugh,” Mike hisses under his breath, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts and boxers and wrapping his fingers around his weeping dick, which twitches in his grasp. He loses himself in his mind for a moment, imagining the hand wrapped around his length is Will’s, and his legs tremble beneath his weight.
He exhales shakily, tugging at his aching cock. Waves of pleasure rack him and he actually has to bite his lower lip to keep from moaning out in the public bathroom, because there are literally other people in the room with him right now and it wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together; a hormonal teenager rushing into a stall, then a moan coming from said stall… The thought of being caught touching himself like this should be humiliating to Mike, but instead it just adds more thrill to the experience and makes him even more painfully aroused than before.
God, he’s disgusting. He’s filthy and gross and so horny. And… he needs relief. He needs it, now. He forgets to feel guilty as he strokes himself, waves of pleasure flowing through his body.
He swipes his thumb across his leaking slit, biting back another moan as his body jolts slightly and he rubs the precum he’s gathered along his length to reduce friction. Then, he starts to pump his hand slowly, throwing his head back and slumping against the blue wall of the stall in ecstasy.
He imagines Will kneeling before him, peering up at Mike through half-lidded eyes and spit-slick lips pressed against the tip of his dick. Parting slightly to take in his head, tongue dancing across his slit.
The image is so filthily good in Mike’s mind that it makes his knees buckle. He has to pull up the edge of his shirt and shove the balled-up material into his mouth to muffle the sounds he’s making, because he can’t stop himself from letting them out. He hasn’t gotten this much pleasure from touching himself in a while; in fact, he’s been kind of… pent up, lately. Unable to make himself feel good. And that makes it feel all the better now that he’s gotten over that particular blockage (thanks to a little help from Will).
He whimpers quietly into the balled-up fabric in his mouth as heat starts pooling in the lower half of his body, pumping his slicked hand faster, and then sighs in relief as a toilet in another stall flushes, a sink turning on moments later; hopefully, those will help hide the sounds Mike’s making. On the one hand he’s mortified because he’s sure that the other people in the bathroom could hear his muffled little moans and whimpers, but on the other hand the thought of being listened to (or maybe even watched) is an addictive thrill that makes him want to make more noise, to push the boundaries just a little further.
But just then, there’s the sound of a door opening, and Mike’s head snaps up.
“Mike?” A familiar, deep voice calls out, and Mike stifles a loud groan as his thrusts into his fist stagger momentarily in shock. “Are you in here?”
Mike pauses, almost about to respond to Will, but then quickly changes his mind. The heat pooling in his lower half is getting more intense, and he’s so close . He just needs to finish. It won’t take long. And so he continues stroking himself, his hand speeding up as his climax rapidly approaches.
He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining that voice again, but whispering in his ear. Whispering nasty, absolutely vile things that makes his skin crawl in delight.
“Mike…”
“Mike?”
“You like that, slut?” Mike imagines Will standing behind him, arm wrapped around Mike, and it’s his fingers that are wrapped around Mike’s length…
“You’ve been in here a while. Are you okay?” Real-Will sounds concerned.
Mike whimpers into his shirt, throwing his head backwards and snapping his hips, desperately fucking his loose fist.
“Come for me.” Imagination-Will urges him eagerly.
And Mike does. His vision flashes, hips stuttering, and he tips over the edge just as real-Will calls his name again.
Thick ropes of cum splatters the blue paint of the stall door and Mike bites his lower lip hard to keep from shouting out in ecstasy. It takes a couple of moments for him to calm down. Then he tucks his softening member back into his shorts and grabs some toilet paper to wipe up the mess and clean off his hand. It’s only when Will calls out for him for the umpteenth time does he remember to actually respond so the other boy isn’t too worried.
“Y-yeah?” Mike replies as he scrubs the cum off the stall door, voice cracking embarrassingly.
“Are you okay? You don’t sound too good.”
“Uh— yeah, I- I’m fine,” Mike coughs out, cheeks reddening as he quickly improvises, making up an excuse off the top of his head. “Upset stomach. Must’ve been from the plane. I’m fine now.”
He drops the soiled toilet paper into the toilet and flushes it, leaning over the bowl for a moment and taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself.
“Oh no. Are you alright? Did you throw up?” Will sounds really worried now, and guilt churns in Mike’s stomach.
He pushes open the stall door, smoothing his hair back and glancing at Will, who has concern painted all over his face. He’s still clutching that stupid painting for that stupid girl in one hand, and Mike fights the urge to rip it out of his hand and shove it in the trash can, instead pushing down his jealousy and trying to play it cool.
“Yeah, but I’m okay now. Really.” Mike insists, but Will doesn’t seem to be buying it.
“Your face is all red. Come here—“ Will leans forward, making an attempt to feel Mike’s forehead for a fever with his free hand, but Mike jerks away with wide eyes.
“No, I’m— I’m fine, Will—“
“Do you want me to tell Jonathan you’re not feeling well?“ Will asks as he draws back, brow furrowed.
“ Will— “
“He can take you to our house instead, we can even completely call off today if you don’t feel up to it—“
“ Will!” Mike snaps, and Will cuts himself off with wide eyes, glancing apprehensively at Mike. Mike inhales deeply through his nose, leaning over a sink and splashing cold water on his face. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap— I just— I’m fine. Really.” He offers Will a reassuring smile— or at least, an attempt at one.
Will sighs softly, smiling back. “You sure?”
“I’m sure .” Mike confirms, biting back a grin as he turns off the sink. “But… uh, thank you. For being concerned. For.. caring.”
“Of course.”
Mike smiles awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair one more time and then slipping past Will to the bathroom door. He reaches out for the handle, pulling, but when he makes an attempt to walk out he immediately slams into someone else’s chest.
“Oouf—“ he blinks, glancing up. Oh. It’s Jonathan’s weird stoner friend, what was his name? Arnold? Angelo? Whatever.
“Oh, hey little dude! Jonathan told me to check on you and little Byers.” Whatever-his-name Stoner Dude says, and Mike exhales sharply, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Yeah. We’re fine.” He huffs, pushing past Stoner Dude and making his way over to where Jonathan and El are waiting.
“Sorry, Argyle. Thanks for checking up on us though,” he hears Will say behind him as he walks off. Oh. That’s his name, yeah. Argyle.
“Hey. Sorry, I got an upset stomach from the plane. All better now though!” Mike tells El, planting a strained smile across his face and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She beams at him, and he grins back, but his heart really isn’t in it.
“Okay!” El hums cheerfully, leaning into his touch. He eyes Will out of the corner of his vision, who is watching them quietly with an unreadable expression as they start to make their way through the airport.
“So, what are we doing?” Mike questions El curiously, mostly just to give his mind something other than Will to think about.
“I’ve got our whole day planned!” El replies with a bright smile.
Yeah. A whole day of distractions sounds pretty good to Mike.