Archive of Our Own

It wasn't something he had planned to do. Honestly. But as soon as he heard the sound of (presumably) two bodies hitting Will's mattress—the squeaking of the springs and Will's giggle— his body was in motion instantaneously. Shooting up from his desk chair, the door to his bedroom flying open, and suddenly he was crashing through Will's bedroom door right across the hallway.

The sound of the door slamming against the wall caused them to spring apart on the bed, confusion taking over the guy's face and surprise on Will's. However, that surprise quickly morphed into anger.

"What the fuck, Mike?"

Mike ignores him, eyes returning to the guy who's propped up on his elbows, shirtless and straining against his jeans.

"Yeah, man, what—"

"Get out." Mike cuts him off. "Get out of my apartment."

The guy looks to Will, eyebrows furrowing.

"This is my apartment too." Will states, then looks to him again, "You don't have to go anywhere."

The guy looks from Will back to Mike, and before he can open his mouth again, Mike takes a step further into the room.

"Get out. Now." He thinks he's doing a good job of keeping his voice even. No anger lacing its way through, no yelling. Even though his chest is heaving breaths in and out as he tries to calm himself down.

"Oh fuck off, Mike!" Will yells as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand, immediately tripping over the edge of the rug.

Mike takes two more steps in and reaches out to stabilize him.

Will doesn't like this, shoving him backward, the warmth of his hands on Mike's chest only for a moment.

"No! Stop! Leave!"

"Will, are you drunk?" Mike asks, lowering himself to try to meet Will's eyes.

"No! I had one drink!" Will shouts. "Now get out!"

"You had way more than one. I bought you two, and you already had—"

"So you were going to fuck him knowing he was drunk? What the hell is wrong with you?"

The guy has the nerve to still look smug, "Hey, he wants it, who am I to say no?"

"You're right, who are you?" Mike asks.

They respond at the same time.

"His name is Carson!"

"Carlton."

Mike laughs, loud and devoid of humor. "You don't even know his name, and you're going to sleep with him?" Mike asks Will, but his eyes do not leave Carlton on the bed.

"Why do you even care?" Will yells. He's doing a lot of yelling tonight.

"Alright, Carlton. Nice to meet you, man. But you're leaving." Mike says, gesturing to the door with an outstretched arm.

"I'm—"

Mike huffs, bringing his hand to rub at his temple. He inhales deeply before locking eyes with him. This time, he doesn't attempt to keep anger out of his voice.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment before I put my hands on you."

That does it, apparently, because Carlton's brows raise high on his forehead, and suddenly he's scrambling off the bed and grabbing his shirt from the floor at Will's feet.

"Look, sorry, I didn't know he was… like… spoken for or whatever." He says as he's shoving his arms through his t-shirt.

"I'm not spoken for!" Will yells, arms shooting upward before flopping to his sides.

"No worries, man. I'll take care of him." Mike says, ignoring Will completely.

Carlton looks from Mike to Will before shaking his head back and forth. "Yeah, like… he approached me, he was kind of throwing himself at me, honestly."

That's enough, too much, actually, for Mike to hear right now. "Goodbye! You know the way out!"

Carlton's mouth snaps shut before he bolts for the door, not even saying bye to Will. What a dick.

Mike waits to hear the slam of their apartment door before he spins around to face Will.

His heart is beating so quickly inside his chest, and all the adrenaline is starting to dissipate as he looks at the shine of Will's eyes in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

"Get out," Will says quietly, so quietly that he almost misses it. He's no longer yelling.

That's somehow worse.

The words come out at a speed Mike isn't sure he'd possessed before now: "Will, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't— He was— You're drunk, and I didn't—"

Will just looks at him, and for the first time in a long time, Mike can't read his expression.

"Yeah, I am drunk, and I want to go to bed." There's a slight slurring to his words now that he's not yelling in anger. "So get out."

"I'm sorry, Will. Please, let me—"

"No."

"Can we talk tomorrow? Please, I just need to—"

"Mike," Will says so softly that it makes his heart stutter.

"Yeah?"

"Get out of my room before I go to sleep at Max and Lucas's apartment."

He sounds defeated. Tired—and even sad. All that anger from before is gone. Mike wishes he were still yelling at him.

"Okay," he replies, stepping backward toward the door.

He thinks for a quick moment before dashing out of the room and running down the short hallway to the kitchen, where he fills a glass of water and grabs the bottle of painkillers.

When he makes it back to Will's room, he finds Will tucked into his bed, clothes strewn on the floor beside his bed. The bedside lamp is still on, even though his eyes are closed.

Mike walks quietly to his side, placing the glass of water down before dishing out three painkillers and setting them on the nightstand.

"Will?" He whispers.

"Go away."

"I will, just open your eyes and take these, please. And drink some of this water." Mike is practically begging.

"I said leave, Mike." His eyes were still closed.

"Please? I don't want your head to hurt in the morning. I know you're working on that project all day and—"

Will groans loudly, startling Mike into silence. He opens one eye, the other squinting shut against the light. He grabs the water and the pills and swallows them before chugging half the glass.

He places it back on the nightstand and lies back down, eyes closed, and comforter pulled up covering half of his face.

"Now go."

Mike nods, even though Will can't see. "Okay," he says softly, and reaches up to turn the lamp off before standing up to full height.

Now, the only light in the room is the moonlight filtering in through the window and the muted yellow light coming from the bathroom down the hallway.

He looks at him, the little bit of him not cocooned in the blanket—just his nose and eyes and hair. The way his eyelashes fan across the tops of his cheeks, the long strands of his hair falling across his forehead. It makes Mike's chest hurt.

"Don't make me leave, Mike. I'm so tired. So please go." Will murmur, and the pain in his chest intensifies. He hates that he hurt him tonight.

"I'm going, I'm going." He says, backing up toward the door. "I'm so sorry. Goodnight, Will."

Will doesn't reply.

Mike closes the door quietly and suppresses the sick feeling rising in his throat to go away.

He steps into his room and falls onto his bed, and spends far too long tossing and turning before he's pulled into sleep.

Mike is in the middle of sprinkling blueberries into the pancake batter for the last pancake when he hears Will's door open. He turns his head immediately toward the hallway with a hopeful smile he can't help but wear.

However, all he sees is Will quickly shuffle into the bathroom right at the end of the hall. He waits for a moment before he hears the water rushing through the pipes and the squeak they can't seem to get rid of, before the water is flowing out of the showerhead.

Perfect timing, the pancakes will be ready, and he has time to make Will a hot cup of tea for when he gets out.

He spends the next ten minutes perfecting the stack of pancakes, coating the top in butter, and letting it melt on top. He grabs the syrup and the strawberries he cut up earlier and sets everything out on the counter before he lets his tea steep in his favorite Star Wars mug.

Right as he hears the shower turn off, he is cleaning up the kitchen mess, putting dishes into the dishwasher, and wiping down the counter.

The soft click of the bathroom door causes Mike to spin around. He watches as Will makes his way down the hall. He's dressed in light-colored jeans, an oversized The Cure shirt, frayed a bit at the collar and hem, neckline showing his collarbones. His hair is still dripping a bit from the shower, and he's wearing mismatched socks—one a faded blue color and the other a bright yellow with stripes.

He's looking downward as he walks, not making eye contact, as he walks up to the counter to reach for a glass, then turns his back to Mike as he fills up his cup with water from the sink.

"Hey, good morning," Mike says, looking from Will to the counter and back.

Will doesn't say anything.

"I, um." Mike coughs to clear his throat. "I made pancakes. Blueberry. And, um, tea for you."

Will turns slowly, eyeing the spread on the counter before finally making eye contact with Mike.

It makes his stomach flip. His eyes look tired, and a look he can't quite place passes before Mike can place it.

"I'm not hungry," Will says almost inaudibly, "I feel nauseous," he turns and walks back down the hall, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Mike, before he can help it, feels his eyes fill with tears. He feels stupid as he tries to blink them away. He doesn't know what he expected, really. He pissed Will off last night, of course, and didn't want Mike's stupid fucking blueberry pancakes.

He stands there for what feels like an hour. Doesn't know what to do. How to make it better. He hoped to apologize over breakfast, but now he doesn't want to bother Will. He's hungover and is working on finishing a big project due on Monday.

Mike realizes with a sudden jolt that he has work soon, an 11-8 shift at the comic book store down the street. He spurs into action, pouring the now-cold tea down the drain and letting the pancakes flop from the plate into the trash can. He puts the dishes into the dishwasher and looks at the clock, 10:40.

"Shit," he takes off down the hall to brush his teeth and fix his hair, running his fingers through his curls to tame them.

As he walks down the hallway toward their front door, he pauses in front of Will's closed door. He hears faint music playing and can see sunlight spilling through the crack underneath the door.

He raises his hand and softly knocks, waiting for a response that doesn't come.

"Will, I'm leaving for work." He says, his voice raised so that he can be heard over the music.

Nothing.

"I'll be back a little after 8. I can bring us dinner."

Again, nothing.

"I'll bring you your favorite from the Thai place across the street. And I want to talk to you, apologize and… explain." Mike doesn't exactly know what will go into this explanation, but he has all day to figure it out. He has to figure it out.

Again, he gets no response.

"Bye, Will. Call the store if you need anything." He tries one last time before he turns around and grabs his coat, keys, and makes his way out of the apartment.

He gets a call about halfway through his shift, the phone ringing out and echoing off the brick walls of the empty shop.

"Infinity Issues, this is Mike, how can I help you?" Mike says in a monotone voice.

"You sure do have an infinite amount of issues, don't you?" A voice that is unmistakably Max's rings out. "Working at the right place." She mumbles.

"Max," he sighs. "What do you want?"

"I'm just letting you know not to get dinner after work," She says, and Mike hears some shuffling around on the other end of the line. "We're having a little party. Lucas is ordering pizza. Just come to ours after you get off."

Mike hesitates, "Max, I can't. I'm bringing Will dinner and I—"

"Will's here," she says, cutting him off. "Lucas opened the door to leave and go grab lunch earlier and he was saw Will leaving your apartment looking dead to the world and kind of… sad. He's been hanging out with me, Lucas brought us back sandwiches and now El's here too. We're having a day."

Mike rolls his eyes but it doesn't hide the concern he feels at hearing Will didn't look so great this morning. He's thankful Lucas and Max love just down the hall from them.

"Anyway," she says, "A party was his idea. I'll see you later." She says before hanging up on him.

The rest of his shift is spent wondering why Will decided he wanted Max to throw a party.

"What the fuck are you doing in my bathtub?" Max says, kicking the door closed behind her.

He rolls his head over to face her; the porcelain feels cold on the side of his face. He’s been in here for what could have been hours. As soon as he arrived he tried to talk to Will and was ignored, again.

"Pouting."

She cackles at that, "Oh, so you're being honest tonight, then. No denying until someone has to pull the truth out?" She plops down on the bathroom floor, back turned to him, leaning back on the edge of the tub.

"No," is all he says. "There's no use."

She hums, her head tilting back as she takes a drink of her beer. Suddenly, she's reaching into her hoodie pocket and pulling out two more cans, setting them on the closed toilet lid.

"So… what happened? He came over hours ago, all upset, but all he said was that you were an asshole." She turns her head to face him for a moment. "Which, like, obviously. But what happened?"

Mike lets out a long sigh with a roll of his eyes. "I'm being a dick because I'm… confused. Or, no. Not confused. Just…" He trails off for a moment, eyes on the ceiling above him.

He stares at a brown water stain for a long time. Max surprisingly doesn't interrupt the quiet that's settled around them. Well, as quiet as it can be with music blaring throughout the apartment and voices shouting behind the closed door.

"I'm not confused. Just, like… conflicted." Conflicted is the best word he can settle for to really explain what's happening inside his head when it comes to all things Will Byers.

He takes a sip of the now-warm beer he's been clutching in his hand.

"Is it the gay thing, or the best friends thing?" Max asks bluntly.

Mike chokes on his beer, liquid slipping out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. "I—"

"Look, I don't care which one it is. I can help with both, I just need to know which it is."

Mike stares at her. He doesn't know what to say.

Max looks up from picking at her chipped nail polish, "How about I go for both, then?"

He just nods. Doesn't trust his voice not to crack under the uncertainty.

She takes a deep breath before leaning her head back against the porcelain edge of the tub. "El and I make out when we're drunk."

He regrets the dramatic gasp that leaves him as soon as it's out—but he can't help it. He can feel his heart rate pick up.

"But—"

"Lucas knows. I'm not, like, cheating on him." She stops and then giggles. "I mean, he makes out with her drunk sometimes, too." She can barely get the words out, her giggles climbing higher into loud guffaws of laughter.

"Max," is all he says. He doesn't know what to say. Is Max gay? Is El gay? Lucas and Max both make out with El? This is a lot to wrap his head around when he's two beers deep. I mean, it would be a lot regardless, but the alcohol isn't helping.

"So, when I asked if it was the gay thing or the best friend thing, I have a reference for both. See?"

Mike's head is spinning. "Jesus," he brings a hand up to rub at his face for a moment as he's thinking about his next words carefully. "It's not… the gay thing. I mean, not really. Obviously, that's not an easy thing to like or agree with, but it's more… he's my best friend, Max."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "I know you've definitely thought about all the reasons why not to, because you're best friends. But have you ever thought of all the reasons that it makes things easier? Makes more sense, even?"

Mike shakes his head. He hasn't, in all the hours he's spent thinking about it, he can only come up with ways it would ruin everything they've been building since they were five years old.

"So, the gay thing. It'll be hard, right? Obviously, because people are fucking idiot assholes. But think about how much easier it will be when you have your best friend with you? You're both experiencing the same thing. You'll be able to be there for each other in a way that no other friend could." Max reaches over to the closed toilet lid and cracks open another beer.

"I mean, yeah. That would be good. To have him. But I'm more worried about it going wrong and… losing him." His voice tapers off to barely a whisper. For a minute, he's unsure if Max hears him.

Suddenly, she's twisting around with a smile on her face. A soft smile, he can't remember if he's ever seen her before. Well, at least not directed at him. She looks at Will and El like that a lot. And sometimes Lucas, too, if she thinks nobody is looking at her. "That's the best part."

He feels his cheeks heat up. "Why?"

"You guys have been best friends since Kindergarten, right?"

He nods, thinking back to the first memories that he can even consciously remember—they all involve Will.

"You know each other completely. Every single thing there is to know about each other—you guys know it. You're the closest people to each other in the world. It's kind of… insane when you really think about it."

So Mike does think about it. He and Will have spent most of the days of their entire life together. Only separating for family vacations, that god-awful week in November of '83, and the months that the Byers moved to Lenora. Other than that, they've been attached at the hip.

He can feel his eyes watering at the thought. Will knows every single thing about him. Well, except for one thing. And he's stayed. He's stayed through the arguments, through Mike treating him horribly as he tried to figure out his own shit, through everything. He can feel the wetness on his own cheeks. He doesn't move to wipe away the tears.

"There's nothing that could separate you two, I don't think," Max says, still twisted around facing him. "I saw it immediately. Back in middle school, when I first moved here. I asked Lucas what was wrong with you two, why couldn't you, like… exist without the other," she stops to laugh. "He just said nothing. There's nothing wrong with them; they've always been like that."

Mike feels like his heart is too big for his chest; he's struggling to get a breath in now. "Max…"

"You're so lucky, you know that?" She cuts him off. "You've known your person since before you could really remember. Do you remember not knowing Will?"

Mike shakes his head. He doesn't. He remembers meeting him, but he doesn't have a single memory of his life before knowing Will Byers.

"God," Max shakes her head. "Anyway. What I'm saying is there is nothing that could ruin the two of you. Except maybe…"

"What?" Mike can feel his heart beating even faster. He leans up from where he was leaning back in the bathtub, eyes going wide.

"Except maybe choosing to… not be together." Max looks up and meets his eyes, giving him a sad smile. "I really do think that would. Eventually."

Mike is nodding without thought. She's right. Even just last night… the feelings that rose in him so quickly and the things he did and said, he didn't like that. Didn't like that version of himself. The ugly, jealous, possessive monster that climbed out of his chest reared its head at the mere thought of someone else getting close to Will. He can't imagine what it would be like if Will got a boyfriend, settled down, and chose to be with someone else for the rest of their lives. He couldn't bear it. Mike knows he wouldn't be able to stand by and play the role of his best friend. Not that he would even have the chance, probably, because of last night, if anything, he would surely do something to make Will not want him around anymore.

He's got to at least try, right? Even though doubt still lingers, it will always creep in. He thinks he'd rather take a leap and land face-first in the dirt than stand on the cliff and have to force Will to push him off at some point anyway.

"What if he, um. What if he doesn't feel the same?" Mike asks.

Max, beer can do her lips, sputters a laugh so sudden and so loud that she sprays the liquid right into his face.

"Ugh," Mike uses his sleeve to wipe his face. "What is wrong with you?"

"Wheeler. You can't be serious." She fixes him with a hard glare.

"Just… how do I know, for sure?"

"Well, you don't. You never will. You just… go for it and hope you're right. That's what I did." Max takes another sip before crushing the can in her hand and tossing it toward the trash.

"With Lucas?"

Max shakes her head. "El," she says simply.

He raises his eyebrows, hoping she'll continue.

"She's my best friend. Has been for years. I've known that I like girls… when I was in preschool, I used to play house with my friends, and I would always want there to be two mommies." She laughs.

Mike can feel a smile overtake his face.

"I like both, though. And I love Lucas. But El… I just have always felt like that about her." Max pauses before smirking. "It's why I gave you so much shit all the time for how you treated her. I knew I could treat her better."

He can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"But one night a few months ago, we had been drinking a bit, and we were just in the bathroom at a party. I was helping her fix her makeup, and I just… kissed her. I couldn't help it."

"And she kissed you back?"

Max nods. "So it's been going on for a while. Then it happened when Lucas was around, after I had told him, and then she kissed him, too, and… I don't know. It just felt right?"

Mike nods. He knows the feeling of right. Every moment he shares with Will feels right.

"But we haven't, uh, talked about it. Was planning to tonight, actually, before Will showed up."

"Oh, so you're all talk, then? You haven't even solved your own issue, but you want to give me advice?" Mike accuses without any real malice.

"Well, I was fucking trying before your issue turned up at my door, pouting."

Mike frowns. "Don't call him that. He's not an issue."

"So, what are you waiting for?" She asks simply, "Go find him and kiss him."

"He's mad at me."

Max rolls her eyes. "Do not fucking tell him what I'm about to tell you, or I'll shave your head in your sleep."

Mike's eyes go wide, "What the fuck?"

"I told him to bring home that asshole last night. He didn't want to at first."

Mike grips the edge of the bathtub. "What the fuck?"

"I told him you needed a kick in the ass. He told me he didn't want to be mean. Eventually, though, he agreed."

Mike tilts his head to the side, "Why?"

The look on Max's face makes his stomach drop. She avoids his eyes and brings her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Why, Max?"

"He told me he wants to start dating… to um. Well, I don't want to tell you everything he said; that's his business to share with you. But that's what started the conversation."

Mike feels like he could be sick—he's never thrown up after two beers, but tonight might be the night.

"But—but you said he—" Mike can't finish his sentence, his stomach turning.

"I didn't say anything about his feelings." She says carefully. "I wouldn't betray his trust. But, all I'm going to say is… You'd better go find him."

Mike feels a sudden bolt of energy running through him, and he clambers out of the empty bathtub and trips as he launches himself out of it and over Max's stretched-out legs. As he's jerking the door open, he looks back at her.

"Thank—"

"We don't have time for that!" She shouts, laughing. "Go!"

The way Mike burst through the door and crashed into the wall in the hallway is nothing short of over dramatic. Causing people to jolt, drinks to slosh over rims of cups, and several sets of eyes to look at him like he was losing it. Turns out, in the time he's spent pouting in the bathroom, the number of people in the apartment nearly doubled.

"Fuck. Sorry," he says as he shoulders his way through the hallway and out into the open floor plan living room and kitchen. His eyes scan the crowd for Will.

When his eyes land on him, he feels queasy.

Will is in the corner of the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch, and a guy is standing in front of him, his hand placed on Will's shoulder.

He can't get a good look at the guy's face—all he sees is his blonde hair and large muscles, but he sees Will's perfectly.

He's smiling wide, and Mike can see the pink of his cheeks from here.

As Mike approaches, he notices the sweatshirt the guy has on. This must be one of Lucas's teammates.

Mike inhales deeply before he, for the second time in less than 24 hours, sabotages a random guy's attempt at getting with Will.

He stalks over and immediately grabs the guy by the shoulder, pulling him so that they're face to face. "Hey, man. Sorry, need to talk to him. See you around." He tells him, and without even looking at Will, he can tell he's fuming.

"Uh, what?" The guy says. Not very bright, clearly.

"Mike, what the hell is wrong with you?" Will says, almost in a whisper.

"What's your name?"

"Matt."

"Matt. Lovely to meet you. Now, get lost." Mike shoves him a bit in the opposite direction, where his hand was still on his shoulder.

And, thank god for Lucas Sinclair because Mike can hear him calling Matt over to take shots.

Matt just looks back at Will, then returns his gaze to Mike. "Whatever, man." He says with a shake of his head.

Will pops up off the arm of the couch instantly and shoves Mike out of the way as he walks quickly towards the door.

"Will! I need to talk to you!" Mike says, weaving through the crowd to follow him.

Will spins around as he gets to the door. "You're such a piece of shit, Mike!" Will shoves at his shoulders as he rips the door open and stomps down the hallway.

"Well, let's talk about why I'm a piece of shit!" Mike calls as he follows him down the hall, and thank God nobody is out in the hallway right now listening to them scream at each other.

"Well, come on!" Will calls without turning around.

And thankfully, when he rounds the corner, Will is already unlocking their apartment door.

"I wanted to talk to you anyway, so let's talk."

"You're so fucked up," Will says as Mike follows him through the doorway, closing and locking it behind him.

"How am I fucked up? Talk to me, Will."

Will then spins around to face him, and he can't honestly remember the last time he saw him this angry.

"You really wanna act like you don't know?" Will fires back.

"I know. I do. I just want to hear you out. You're obligated to feel how you feel. I want you to tell me."

"Well, what the fuck is wrong with you, really? I bring home a guy, and you storm in and put a stop to it like you have any say—"

"You were drunk, Will. He was taking advantage of you." He huffs, shaking his head. "Even if you wanted to have sex with him, he should have known it was a bad idea with how wasted you were and how sober he was. That's not right, Will."

Mike watches as Will rolls his eyes dramatically and shakes his head.

"You didn't know I was drunk when you came in there."

Mike freezes. That is true.

Fuck it.

"Yeah, yeah I know. I came in there to put a stop to whatever was happening. It just so happens you were drunk, and he didn't need to be in there trying to have sex with you."

Will laughs but there's no humor in it. "That's why you're a piece of shit, Mike! You did that, and then you pulled me away from talking to a perfectly fine guy at the party just now!"

"His hands were all over you!"

"So fucking what? Am I not allowed to be gay in front of you, Mike? It's only okay if I'm being flirted with or fucked if it's not within your vicinity? Is that it? Are you homophobic or something?"

Mike feels like he's been slapped. He blinks slowly, eyes widening.

"Will, you know that isn't true." He tries to reach for Will's hand, but it is quickly yanked away.

"Do I, Mike? What else do you call this dickhead behavior? You just can't stand the thought of me being with a man?"

This conversation is going nowhere. So, again, Mike thinks: fuck it. He surges forward, hand grabbing the side of Will's face and pulling him into a rough kiss that is more lips and teeth crashing than anything. But Will kisses back; he can feel his lips moving against his own before Mike is being shoved backward by Will's hands on his chest.

"What the fuck, Mike?"

Mike can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing. "You're right. I can't stand you being with another man."

Will's brows furrow, and he tilts his head in confusion. "Another man? What? But, Mike, you're not—"

"I am," Mike cuts off. "I am. And," he pauses and inhales deeply as he gathers the courage. "And I'm so in love with you, Will. Can't you see?"

He doesn't really know what he expects at this admission, but Will Byers launching himself at him, hands gripping both sides of his face, and crashing their lips together once more is not what he expects.

Mike's hands immediately go to his waist, thumbs digging into the heat of his exposed skin where Will's shirt is riding up. The kiss was bruising, Will's lips firm and demanding in a way Mike didn't expect in all the times he's lost sleep over thinking of this moment. He tastes the cherry from the drink Will was sipping on and hears himself groan into Will's mouth when he feels his teeth bite and tug on his lower lip.

Mike pulls back just enough to speak, "bedroom. Mine. Now." It's all he can get out before he's walking Will backwards down the hall, lips finding each other again like magnets. They lick and suck and nip and kiss until Will's legs hit the back of the bed, and he flops down on his back.

Mike's on him in an instant, and he lets out an embarrassing surprised yelp when Will takes him by the shoulders and flips them around so he's on top and straddling Mike's thighs.

"I'm in love with you too, by the way," Will says before his lips are kissing down Mike's neck. "Obviously." He hears him whisper in his ear before he feels his earlobe being pinched by Will's teeth.

Mike's brain short-circuited back when Will first launched himself at him, but he's trying to catch up, which proves difficult when the love of your life is sucking bruises into the side of your neck. He feels his cock twitch in his pants.

"Obviously? What do you mean, obviously? None of this was obvious, Will."

Will pulls back just enough to meet Mike's eyes, and Mike is entranced by how blown out his pupils are. At least he isn't alone in feeling absolutely insane right now.

"What does that mean?" Will asks, chest heaving in breaths.

Mike's eyes nearly pop out of his head. "I've had to pull two guys off of you in the last twenty-four hours, Will. Nothing about you being in love with me is obvious."

Will, the little shit he is, just smirks.

"Knew you were jealous," he says before he reaches down to pull his shirt over his head, and Mike's eyes go wide once again.

Mike sputters a bit, "I—"

Will cuts him off, not with words, but by shoving the hem of his own T-shirt up his torso, and Mike gets the hint and leans up a tad to pull it off completely.

When Will leans back down, it's slow and calculated, and he doesn't go in for another kiss; he just hovers over Mike's face, close enough that his eyes move quickly back and forth to take in his entire expression.

"I just wanted somebody to want me, Mike."

Mike gulps and feels tears prick in his eyes at the same time. If his dick wasn't so hard right now, he'd probably cry. He can't cry right now. Will just wanted to be wanted. Mike has always wanted him.

Always.

"I want you," Mike says, hands sliding up Will's bare sides, feeling the goosebumps break out upon his skin. "I've always wanted you."

Will smirks again and leans down toward his ear once more. "Show me how much you want me."

The speed at which Mike flips them over and attaches his mouth to Will's is faster than he's ever moved in his life. Yes, he's full of adrenaline, yes, his dick has never been harder, but his need to show Will Byers just how much he is wanted is the thing that has him vibrating with energy.

He kisses him firmly on the lips, then, for a moment, peppers kisses all over his face, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his chin, and when Will is giggling and squirming under him, he starts kissing lower. He drags his lips, kissing and sucking on his neck, down his chest, all the way to the waist of his sweatpants. And Will is so hard that when he makes it down there, he can feel his cock poking his throat. Which is ironic because right now, all Mike can think about is the feeling of Will in his throat.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Will's sweats and pauses, looking up at him. "Can I, Will? Please?"

Will only lets out a long groan and nods.

That's all the confirmation Mike needs before he's pulling the pants—and Will's boxers—down his thighs in one swift motion. He can feel Will kicking them off as he takes in the sight of him.

Mike's never seen a dick before. Well, other than his own. So he only really has his own to compare it to. It's a bit shorter than his, but it's thicker, and before he can really take in any more detail, he's wrapping a hand around the base and licking a stripe from the base all the way to the top. The sound it pulls from Will is something he wants to listen to for the rest of his life.

"Will, I haven't, um," he looks back down because apparently making eye contact with Will's dick is easier to do when he's about to possibly embarrass himself. "I've never done this before, don't know if I'm going to be any good. Will you help me?"

Help him? What the hell kind of question is that.

"Mike, I swear to you that you could probably just look at me for long enough and I'd come." Will says with a huff of breath that could very well have been a laugh.

Mike absentmindedly strokes him, "Really? Why?"

Will laughs again, and Mike finally looks up to meet his eyes. They're dark and lidded and he bites his bottom lip to try not to let an embarrassing sound escape.

"Mike, you're so hot. And you have your hand around my dick. And I'm in love with you."

Will says it like it's an obvious statement, shaking his head with a soft smile.

But Mike's mind is stuck on the first part: "You think I'm hot?"

Will laughs loudly this time, his cackle bouncing off the walls of the small bedroom.

"Yeah, Mike. Are you serious? You're unbelievably hot."

"I think that's subjective, and like, just because you like me," Mike near mumbles. His hand is still stroking Will's cock, up and down movements.

"It's not. You are objectively hot. And I don't like you."

Mike's hand stills.

"I love you."

The feeling pooling in Mike's abdomen is something beyond arousal.

"I love you so much, Will."

Will gives him another soft smile. "So, whatever you're about to do to my dick is going to result in me coming. That I can promise. But I'll tell you what feels good. Will that help?"

Mike just nods. He looks back down and feels his mouth fill with saliva. Any question about his sexuality (there wasn't any—really) vanishes because Mike Wheeler's mouth is actively watering looking at a cock.

As Mike wraps his lips around him, he feels Will's hand slot into his curls lightly scratch a at his scalp. "Feels so good," Will says before moaning loudly.

Mike sucks lightly where he has his lips wrapped around just the head, moving his hand up and down. Then, he decides for not the first time tonight: fuck it. He's going to be adventurous.

He pulls his lips off of Will and begins open pith kissing down the sides, messy and wet. He can feel Will's fingers flex in his hair.

"Fuck, Mike. You're a tease."

It causes Mike to smile, lips pressed against the side of Will's cock.

He finally takes him in his mouth again and tries to see how much of him he can fit in his mouth. He slowly moves further down, trying to relax his throat muscles.

He hears Will let out a low groan, and the sound travels straight to his own cock straining in his pants.

Will's fingers that are tangled in his curls tighten and pull slightly and it causes Mike to moan around him, and that causes Will's hand to tighten further, if possible.

"Mike, Mike," Will pants. "Stop."

Mike pops off in an instant, "What's wrong? Am I doing it wrong? Is it bad?"

He watches Will's features collapse into a soft grin before he lets out a laugh, "No. Nothing is wrong. I'm gonna come if you don't stop."

A surprised laugh falls from Mike's lips too, "Isn't that the point, Will?" He asks as he strokes him with his spit-slick hand.

Will's gaze darkens, "Wanna come with you inside me."

Mike feels his pulse quicken. In all honesty, he didn't really put that much thought into what tonight would entail, but fucking Will was not on the list of possible outcomes.

"Mike."

He sucks in a breath and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "Fuck, okay. Yeah. Um. You'll have to… Will, I don't…"

"My bedside drawer, grab the lube," Will says.

Mike reaches over, keeping one hand splayed on Will's stomach. He pulls the drawer open and grabs the small bottle.

"So, you're gonna coat your fingers and start with one. Slow." Will says.

Mike's brain cannot even form or process any thoughts beyond Will's instructions. Lube. Finger. One. Slow.

He pops open the top of the bottle and squeezes a bit out onto his finger. It's a cold, goopy fluid. He warms it up by rubbing his fingers together.

Mike leans over Will again and captures his lips in a kiss, much more chaste than the ones they were sharing earlier.

"Can you stay like this? Wanna look at you. Wanna kiss you." Mike says and punctuates his request with another kiss.

Will giggles, "yeah. Want that too."

Mike brings the hand not propping himself up down Will's side, and skirts it along the outside of his thigh, keeping the finger with lube extended. When he finally reaches down where Will is spread, it causes his breath to hitch, and Mike can feel the puckered skin twitch beneath his finger at the same time a high pitched whine leaves Will's lips.

"I got you, baby," Mike murmurs.

Will whines again.

He moves his finger in a circle before he begins to push in slowly. Just like Will said. Lube, finger, one, slow. He's dolloping instructions.

He watches the changes taking shape on Will's face. The way he squeezes his eyes tight after fluttering his lashes closed, his mouth falling open as Mike's finger moves deeper inside him, and the way his chest heaves with the quick intakes of breath as Mike starts to move his finger in and out.

After several seconds of slow movement Will gives another direction: "Another. More lube."

Mike moves quickly to comply, pulling his finger out and squirting more lube out onto his two fingers before slowly working them into Will.

Mike stares, transfixed, as his fingers move in and out of Will. After he's got the movements down he moves back up and over Will, bending down to place a kiss over one of his closed eyelids, that immediately open.

He kisses his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, before moving to his lips.

will makes a noise against his mouth, and when Mike pulls back, just enough for Will to mumble against his lips: "Another, faster, please."

Mike doesn't know why but the inclusion of the word please does something to him. He wants to do whatever Will tells him. Whatever he wants.

He wants to please him.

Make him feel wanted.

"Will. 'm so hard." Mike mumbles against his lips before he rests his forehead against Will's.

"Fuck me, Mike. Want it so bad."

Mike's brain feels like mush. "Want you so bad, my baby."

The whine, all high pitched and quiet at the same time, felts like a lightening striking his insides.

Mike pulls his fingers out and picks up the bottle of lube again, squirting out a bit more to coat his dick. Then, he freezes. "Wait. Um. Do we need a condom?" He asks Will, not sure he is prepared for the answer.

Will shakes his head before pausing, "No, um. No. I haven't… Unless you…"

Mike cuts him off, "No."

He doesn't really want to get into it right now but he's never been able to keep it up or even get it up with a girl before.

Conversation for another time.

He doesn't miss the blush and the smile on Will's face.

"What has you all smiley?" Mike asks.

He watches Will bite his bottom lip in an attempt to tame his smile. "Nothin'. You."

Mike smiles back, even wider, and leans forward to place a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

Mike wraps the lube-covered hand back around himself, stroking and coating his cock before he lines it up. "You ready?"

Will sighs, "No. Yeah. Please."

Mike freezes. "No?"

Will flushes, "'m just nervous."

"Don't be nervous, it's just me."

Will breathes out hard and fast, "that's why I'm nervous. It's you."

Mike doesn't know what to say. Or think.

"I'm sorry, um, we don't have to. Obviously. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Will huffs another breath, eyebrows furrowing. "No. It's not that. It's just… I don't wanna be bad at it. With you. Because it's you."

Mike feels warm all over, he smiles into the kiss he gives Will.

"It's our first time, it won't be perfect." He kisses him again. "You just lay there and look pretty, I'll take care of you."

He hears Will inhale sharply, then he watches as he nods.

Mike pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees and pulls them off quickly, tossing them to meet Will's on the bedroom floor.

Mike then gets close to Will on the bed, the tops of his thighs meeting the backs of Will's own. He grabs his cock and lines it up, rubbing it back and forth on Will's twitching hole.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch, taking in every noise of pleasure leaving Will's lips and mixing with his own, until he's completely enveloped with nothing but Will, Will, Will. He leans forward and connects their lips.

He pulls back when he feels Will whine.

"Mike. Move. Please."

Mike complies, he's nothing if not an obeyed of Will's instructions.

He's like a dog waiting on his owner's command. And he's a good one, always following.

He pulls out only an inch or so to start before he fucks back into him. He repeats the motion, more and more of his cock leaving Sill each time before he pushes back in.

Will's answering moans tell him all he needs to know.

"More, harder, Mike."

And, you guessed it, Mike complies. He fucks him harder, pushing out little noises out of Will each time that he will hear on repeat in his dreams.

He wants to kiss him, but he wants to listen to the sounds Will is producing more. So, he attaches his lips to Will's neck instead and kisses and sucks as he fucks into him.

"Only you can make me feel like this." Will says around a moan.

Mike almost laughs, "Will, anyone could make you feel like this."

"Uh-uh. Tried. Didn't work."

"W-what do you mean?" Mike pulls his face out of Will's neck, and looks at his sweat glistening face as he continues his movements.

"Only ever—ugh—only ever had blowjobs. Nobody could ever... oh."

"Nobody makes you feel this good?" Mike smirks, confidence slowly seeping into his demeanor.

Will shakes his head back and forth rapidly. "No. No. Just you. Need just you." He lets out a moan louder than any sound he's made all night when Mike grabs hold of his thighs and presses him further into the bed, fucking into him faster and harder. "Make me feel safe. Turn me on. Know you won't hurt me. Nobody else can make me feel that, just you. I've tried. Can't with anybody else."

There that feeling is again. His body is flooded with arousal but now it's like a fluttering if butterflies in his stomach and behind his ribs. "Fuck, Will. Don't have to. Not anymore. Never again. I've got you, baby."

He lets out little breaths as Mike fucks into him, and it's the hottest thing Mike has ever witnessed. "Feels so good."

"Yeah? Feels good, baby?"

"Yeah, so good. Feels good for you?" Will looks into his eyes.

They're bright in the lamplight, tears clumping his dark lashes together. "Feels so good. You feel amazing. So hot and tight around me, fuck."

"Mmmm, Mike. 'M gonna come." He whines.

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, go ahead. Come for me." Mike wraps a hand around Will's cock and three strokes later he's coming.

Will tightens around him, and that's enough to send Mike following him over tbe edge.

"Fuck, oh."

"Mike," Will all but whines as he no doubt feels Mike's cum pumping into him.

Mike collapses on top of Will, face tucked into his neck and Will's legs falling down to wrap around Mike's back.

"Fuck, Will," is all he can say.

Will bursts into a fit of giggles.

Mike can't help but giggle too.

Mike pulls his head up just enough to make eye contact with Will.

"What's funny?" Mike mumbles.

He feels Will's hand slot into his curls, carding through them and pulling them off his damp forehead.

"Nothin'."

"You're laughing."

Will giggles again, the side of his face pressing against Mike's forehead. "'m just happy."

Mike smiles, tilts his head up to kiss his cheek, causing Will to turn and place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm so happy." Mike tells him.

"Well, you just got laid, I bet you are."

"Mmmmm, no. Stop." Mike reaches a hand up to cradle the back of Will's head and brings their lips together before mumbling, "I'm happy because I made you feel good. Happy because you love me. Happy because you're mine." He presses a kiss to Will's lips.

"I'm yours?" Will asks quietly.

Mike leans back to look into his eyes, "yeah. You belong to me."

Will smiles so big the skin around his eyes crinkles, Mike wants to make him smile like that forever.

They lay like that for another minute or two, kissing and smiling and giggling.

"Okay, okay," Will says before he pecks Mike one last time. "Get out of me now. I feel sticky. We need to shower."

"Don't want to get out," Mike mumbles with a pout.

Will shoves lightly at his chest and giggles.

He pulls out slowly.

"Bath?" Mike asks as he leans back, sweat and cum starting to dry on their skin.

"Together?" Will asks.

"Always together." Mike says.

And he means it.