Chapter Text
Things were… different. Between Will and his best friend.
Now, don't get him wrong, Mike Wheeler had always been touchy, ever since they were children.
Maybe that's why Will didn't really notice it when they got older, when Will shoved his feelings to the side, when he choked it all down and told himself he was never going to let them grow again. He couldn't be friends with Mike if he was so focused on imagining something else. So, he buried it. He moved on. He totally moved on! Things got better, he's sure of it.
It was like when they were children. A hand on his elbow, an arm around his shoulders, knees knocking.
Mike was touchy, it was just in his nature.
Maybe that's why, when Mike reached out, hands cupping his own, leaning in close, a murmur of “I miss you, Will. I miss us,” all Will did was squeeze back, the way he always had.
It started off the same as always, something unintentional that Will could brush off, accident touches that slowly grew into something friendly, platonic, normal. The occasional nudge of an elbow to his side, a long look and a hand reaching out to grip his shoulder. Simple. Friendly.
And Will, so thankful to get this friendship back, hadn't second guessed anything. Vecna was gone, Will had given up everything he'd ever loved just for the taste of it, and Mike- Mike wanted to be friends again. Mike wanted to move in together, to get an apartment together, to live their lives together.
Best friends, like he'd promised so long ago.
Will was second guessing it now.
A hand trails up his back, finger dragging along his skin, shirt being steadily pushed upwards. Will shudders so hard that the grip on his paintbrush goes slack for a moment, just long enough to smear red over the blue sky. “Mike,” he whispers, breathlessly, nudging the smear away with the back of his knuckle. “You're being annoying.”
That same tantalizing finger presses against the back of his neck, the nape of it, where he'd always been sensitive. He closes his eyes at the pressure, taking a long breath in. Mike doesn't respond, but he moves forward, the heat of his body close enough to make Will dizzy. “Mike,” he tries again. “You're distracting me. Did you need something?”
“I like watching you paint.”
Will swallows thickly, tension so thick he could cut it. “It'd be easier if you kept your hands to yourself.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, voice low in his throat. Will wants to put his brush down, to save his canvas from any probable mistakes, but it feels like a shield, one he didn't want to risk losing. Mike's thumb joins his pointer finger, moving towards Will's pulse point, stroking, his palm against the nape of Will's neck. “But you like it when I touch you.” Will’s hand jerks, ears burning, and he wishes he could kill himself from a few moments ago.
There was red paint everywhere.
Will drops the brush back onto the palette on his desk, hands fretting. “Oh, shit-”
Mike finally lets his hand drop, taking a step back. “Want me to grab some paper towels?”
“Please,” Will chokes out, fingers nudging against wet paint, trying to fix what he'd ruined.
“Got it, I'll be back in a second,” and then he's gone. Will can still feel his fingers on his skin. He turns back to his failed attempt at a calming landscape, not allowing himself to linger on the view of Mike's back.
Mike was just… clingy.
Will couldn't complain- he loved Mike's attention.
There was nothing to question.
Friends.
Best friends.
He was questioning it now.
Lucas, unfortunately, sees no issue in anything.
“I'm telling you man, you're overthinking things.”
Will sighs, his forehead pressed against the wood of his and Mike's shitty little coffee table, the one they found on the side of the road by a dumpster and convinced themselves they could upgrade. “You don't get it-”
“You're right, I don't,” Lucas agrees in the middle of his sentence. Will continues on, as if Lucas never said anything at all.
“He's just so- so grabby. He never used to be this grabby. I stopped by the office yesterday because he forgot his notebook, the one he's been writing his new project in? He asked me to stay for a while and meet his friends, and I said yes, like, you know, an idiot- and he spent the entire time holding my hand as we were eating. He had to try eating with his left hand- he spilled clam chowder all over his shirt and he looked like he was about to cry when I let go to tell him to try cleaning it off in the bathroom!”
“...Did you go with him to clean it?” It's disappointed. Will sighs.
“...Yeah. Yeah, I went with him. It took me thirty minutes and I used half of the dispenser of hand soap.”
“Will, you're overthinking this. This isn’t new. Do you remember when we were kids?” Lucas asks, reaching a hand out to pat the top of Will's head. “He shoved me to the ground once. Not even once- multiple times! All because I tried hugging you goodbye after a playdate.”
“We were seven! That doesn't count-”
“It counts! I got a wood chip stuck in my knee! My mom had to pull it out like a splinter.”
Will lifts his head slightly so only his chin was on the table, looking up at a Lucas. “I’m sorry. Did it hurt bad?”
Lucas flicks his forehead and Will yelps. “Get your bambi face away from me-”
“Bambi?!” Will sits up fully, jaw dropping, sympathy gone.
“-and stop feeling bad. I literally don't give a shit anymore. I'm just saying, Mike's always been weird about you.”
“Weird about me-?”
“Oh my god, you're clueless. Will, please, you can't be the stereotype of pretty and stupid. Mike is already stupid enough as it is- and I don't think he's showered, like, ever- I mean I saw him wear the same pants once for over a week, they had the same stains on them- you can't be dropping into Mike level. Max wouldn't be able to take it.”
Will blinks at Lucas for a long moment, jaw lowered. Then, he grabs a pillow beside him. Lucas recognizes what he's doing a moment before Will swings, grabbing the pillow before it could connect with his face. He didn't expect the second one though, from Will's other hand. “Take it back!” Lucas lets out a muffled noise, snatching one of the pillows from Will, jumping up.
“Oh, Byers, you do not want to play this game right now.”
Will pauses, looking at where Lucas shifts, one foot on the coffee table, leaning towards him. “...You wouldn't.” Lucas' face shifts and he grins, sharp, using the table as a springboard to get to Will. It snaps under his weight, giving in, breaking into two, but Lucas makes the distance anyway, smacking Will over the head four times as he yelps. “Lucas-!” Another hit to the mouth, Will's hands pushing at Lucas' chest, his legs kicking, foot connecting to Lucas' shin with a grunt of pain.
“No way, you started it, I'm giving you what you asked for!”
“You called me stupid!”
“Because you are! Stop trying to get away-!”
Neither of them hear the sound of the key in the lock, the sound of the door opening. Will squeals, scrambling back, tumbling over the edge of the couch. He lands on his back with a grunt.
Lucas leans over, dropping the pillow onto his face soundlessly, covering it.
“What are you two doing?”
There's a layer of amusement to it, mostly confusion, and Will squeezes his eyes closed. He hopes, distantly, that the pillow could just suffocate him. Mike wouldn't just forget that he's here, and-
“Will started it.” Traitor.
“Uh huh, sure he did. And Will broke the coffee table, too?”
Fuck. The coffee table.
Will sits up so quickly that his head rushes, eyes wide, whipping around to look at broken wood. “Oh no,” he murmurs, looking in horror. “Do you think- do you think we could fix it?” He turns to Mike, looking up at him.
It's dizzying, the way that he can see every shift in Mike's eyes. They soften, lidding ever so slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitches up. Mike takes a few steps closer, hand reaching out. Will ducks instinctively, eyes pinning to the floor, unbelievably embarrassed. God, him and Lucas roughhousing like that? They weren't children.
Mike's fingers thread through his hair, tugging ever so slightly, lifting Will's head.
Lucas makes a choked up sound next to them, from where he lay awkwardly on the couch.
Will wants to die.
“We can find a new one, okay? If it means that much to you, maybe we could fix it, but- we can find something better. Didn't you say three weeks ago- Tuesday- that a round one would look better?”
Will did, in fact, say this. He also forgot when he said this, and is mildly surprised that Mike recalled such a small thing. His heart thumps unbearably fast, Mike looking down at him, eyes warm and soft and-
Will nods, pathetically, unable to form any words other than the three that he's been choking down for as long as he can remember.
Mike's eyes squint, quietly pleased, and he drags his hand from the back of Will's head to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, his thumb dragging under Will's eye. He pets there, just for a moment, and everything in Will's mind is fuzz. “You should get some rest.”
“Bwuh?”
He feels stupidly after he says it, mostly a noise, something that slipped out. He can see Mike's teeth now, from where he's grinning. He would focus on it more if Mike wasn't sliding his thumb down his nose, prodding at Will's bottom lip. “Yeah, you definitely need a nap. I can practically see your brain melting out of your ears.”
His mind lags for just a moment before his face burns hot. “Oh my god!” Will chokes out, shoving Mike's arm away, ignoring the sound of his laughter, rich and warm like chocolate. “You are the worst!”
“The worst and also hungry. Takeout?”
“No!” His words don't sound very convincing even to himself, giddy with unsuppressed giggles, standing up and pushing Mike away gently with one hand to his chest. “You can stay hungry.”
Mike's grin takes a turn for the worst and he reaches his hands out, grabbing Will by the waist with greedy palms, snatching him back. “Yeah? What if I end up just eating you instead?”
“What?!” Will yelps, yanking his head away, both of his hands dropping to Mike's wrists, thumbs pressing against the beating. It felt fast, matching his own. “Don't be weird-” His laugh does nothing to disguise his feelings.
Mike's hands shove under his shirt, gripping his skin, squeezing enough for the pads of his fingers to dig in just slightly. It makes Will's breath catch. “Weird?! I'm starving- you're depriving me! Food is a human right, you know!” Will chokes out another laugh, Mike's face leaning closer and closer, hovering over him, noses touching. Will's body was dipped at his point, bent backwards, Mike's long frame following. He didn't seem to mind, though.
“Human right, sure, but a Wheeler right-?”
“Will.”
Mike's eyes keep him pinned in place, his palms squeezing his waist, sliding upwards ever so slightly, thumbs brushing the bottom of his ribcage.
Will's eyes can't help themselves from flicking downwards, right to red lips. Mike's face tilts, pink tongue moving to lick at his lips. Will's Adam's apple bobs. He snaps his head away, his left hand raising to push against Mike's shoulder, trying to get distance. His mind scrambles for what Mike had said earlier, something witty to snap back into it all. He glances to the couch. Lucas was gone. Will hasn't even noticed him leave-
“Will,” Mike murmurs again, his mouth dragging along Will's cheek. Direct contact. His breath is hot, fanning out over Will's face.
“We can-” Will sputters, stumbling over his words. “We can grab some Thai food? From the place you like-”
Mike's nose presses against his ear, breathing through his mouth, shaky and slow. His hands tighten. Will feels a noise crawl out of his throat, squeaky and weak. His pushing hand turns into a grip, fingers twisting in Mike's sweater, eyes fluttering shut. He could feel Mike's breath on his lips.
Will yelps sharply, the moment snapping, a noise of pain leaving him. Mike's teeth dig into his cheek, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to scare him right out of his mindset. “Ow- what the hell?”
Mike grins, smile stretching. Will can feel it on his skin. He presses his hand to Mike's forehead, pushing him away fully, wobbles from how far back he was leaning. “I told you I was going to have to eat you, you just didn't believe me-”
“Oh my god, you're so weird- get off of me!”
“Nooo, no come here-”
“OW! No biting! Mike-!”
Will stares resolutely ahead, refusing to meet Lucas' eyes where they focus on the side of his face.
It's been a few days, and Will is going insane.
Lucas left in the middle of Mike being- well, being Mike. And on his way out of the apartment he called Max.
Max told Jane. Jane told Dustin. Dustin got back to Lucas, and now Lucas-
Will tries not to flinch, Mike's hand squeezing his knee. Lucas is still looking at him.
Will is going to find the roof to Max's apartment building, climb up to the top, and hurl his body off.
“Will.” It's quiet, and sweet. Mike's breath puffing against his ear. “You okay?” There's real concern there, care that Mike doesn't bother to hide. Will nods, fingers gripped tightly in his lap. Mike's hand shifts upwards, squeezing his thigh. “You sure?”
He nods again, eyes flicking to the side. Lucas has a shit eating grin on his face. He looks back to the movie, some rom-com that Jane wanted to watch. Will's fingers twitch. Mike squeezes again, kneading the skin, the same way Will has seen him do with the stress ball Will gave him a few years ago. Blue and cube shaped, lying on Mike's desk, most likely. Will's leg twitches, jerking involuntary. Mike freezes, just for a moment, before he squeezes again. Will's muscles tense.
He looks to the side. Lucas wiggles his eyebrows at him.
Will drops his hand onto Mike's, peeling it off of his leg. “Will?” His voice is hurt, confused, whispered. Quiet, just for them. He glances up at Mike, pressed shoulder to shoulder. He was doing the look again. Eyebrows furrowed, lips downturned, eyes full of a void. Disappointed.
Will licks his lips, thinking. He shifts his leg a little, pressing his knee to Mike's, his fingers pushing in-between slender ones and interlocking. “Sorry,” Will whispers, wracking up with a truth to say. Mike would know he's lying, but- if it's true, it's not a lie. It's only a bit of a fib. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”
Mike's eyes scan his face, flicking around rapidly, stopping just a moment on- “Okay,” he whispers back, lifting Will's hand and raising it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of Will's hand, lingering, before he drops Will's hand into his lap, right hand toying with Will's fingers, left hand still locked together, unmoving. “Better?” Will nods weakly, and Mike must take it as an invitation or something, because he rests his head on top of Will's, folding onto him like a blanket.
Will ignores the heat on his cheeks. It's not just Lucas looking at him this time. He doesn't bother looking at the movie.
“Mike-” Will's breath catches. Thumbs dig into his shoulder blades, massaging. He slumps forward. “Mike, come on, I need to focus-”
“You've been bent over your easel all day,” he dismisses quickly, thumbs digging into a knot. Will's legs shake at it, feeling the tension leave his body.
It's not a lie. Will's been working on this commission for hours- since Mike headed out around noon. It was- just about ten at night, he resolves, looking at the clock hanging on the wall.
Mike's squeezes his shoulders, leaning forward, breath on Will's ear. “Come on. You'll kill yourself doing this. You can finish it tomorrow.”
“I can't,” he stresses, adding more white to his green, trying to fix the shading. “I need to get this done, I have two more that need to be finished by the end of the month-” Mike presses a kiss to the side of his neck, open mouthed. Will's voice cracks, stuttering through the rest of his sentence. “-I don't- I don't have time to waste.”
“Take my time, then.”
Will can't help but laugh, raising a hand to cover his mouth. Mike grins against his skin. “It doesn't work like that.”
“Why not?” He eggs on, his hands dragging down Will's body, moving to his front, down his stomach, looping around his middle. He steps closer, hugging Will from behind. “I could give you half of my lifespan if I wanted to.”
Will snorts, his hand moving to lay on top of Mike's. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“Mhm.” It's a dismissive hum as Mike begins penguin waddling them out of the room, mouthing on the side of Will's neck, tongue pressing against his skin, teeth catching. He sucks out a mark, something Will knows is going to haunt him until the day he does end up dying.
“No biting-” Mike either doesn't hear or doesn't care, because he digs his teeth in, hands holding Will's hips, walking them up to Mike's bedroom door. Not his own, he mentally notes.
“You like it.” It's hushed, secretive, but not dishonest. He lets go, his hand pushing against the small of Will's back, taking a step away. “I have to finish this rough draft, but I'll join you when I'm done, yeah? The Melatonin is on my desk.”
Will just stands there like an idiot, completely stunned. Mike's eyes get sharper at it, lips tugging up. “Night, Will. Love you.”
He nods. Like an idiot.
Mike doesn't seem to mind.
Will just needs to… sleep it off.
He's delirious.
Waking up is a slow process. Warmth along his body. Shifting. He groans, upset, rolling over. There's a laugh, a hand tugging him closer, something pressed against the top of his head.
It's a blur until there's lips prodding at his face. His jaw, his cheeks, his lips. Will feels his nose scrunch up involuntarily, and the laugh is back. “Mike, knock it off.” His voice is drowsy, not fully there.
Lips slot up against his own, stealing the words from his mouth right as he breathes them. Will hums, a sleepy hand raising, threading through curls. They pull away again, an unhappy noise slipping past his throat. “I know,” it's soothing. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”
“Come back-”
Mike gives in, another kiss sealing them together. He opens his mouth, exhaling through his nose, kissing the breath and the cognitive thinking abilities right out of him. Will feels like a puddle of mush, lips moving to his cheek, his temple, hands dragging up and down his arms. “I've got to go, Will.” Mike's voice is sweet, soft, the way it always is-
Will lags.
Mike's voice.
His eyes snap open, a bit in shock. Mike hovers over him, face unbearably fond. “Morning.”
Will blinks, hand covering his mouth. Mike's eyes track it.
“I need to head in early, they want me to proof read the draft for version four. Call me when you're done with your painting, okay? I want to be the first person to see it.”
His head nods, nod processing any of what was said. Mike tugs his hand down, kissing his mouth, Will's eyes fluttering and his head lifting, matching it.
Kissing Mike felt like heaven incarnate.
Mike pulls away, taking Will's heart with him.
“I'll be back after lunch. There's pancake mix in the pantry, and I think we still have some bacon in the fridge. Don't forget to eat.” He leaves one last kiss to Will's forehead before rolling out of bed, heading towards his closet.
Will hasn't seen Mike's bed head in years. Same with his naked back, pulling his pajama shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor with the pile of all the rest of his dirty clothes that Will knows he's going to be washing instead of Mike.
His face burns, overwhelmed, and he rolls away, facing the wall.
Mike runs a hand through Will's hair on his way out the door, calling to him. Something that Will would have paid attention to on literally any other day.
The bed is warm, and Mike's blanket is heavy, and that is definitely something new.
Mike was touchy, yes, but- to this extent?
Will swallows, a hand raising to press against his lips.
Yeah, something was different for sure.