Chapter Text
When Will woke up twenty minutes after his alarm was meant to go off, he knew today was going to be rough. True, his days almost always are. How could they not be when he works where he does? Or, rather, when he works for who he does. It’s fine though. He’s gotten used to the stress and the disrespect he deals with on an almost daily basis. He’s had this position as an assistant for two years. It would be crazy if he hadn’t found a way to adjust to it by now.
Unfortunately, his adaptability comes at the steep price of making his devil of a boss happy, and running as behind as he is now, is shaping up to be extraordinarily detrimental to that.
Shit.
He can’t show up late.
“Sorry! Sorry! Excuse me,” he says as he shoulders past the stream of people on the sidewalk.
The busy streets of New York City really aren’t making this any easier for him. If he could run in a straight line, his near future would look so much more optimistic. Instead, he has to weave around some of the slowest people he’s ever seen in his life. Probably tourists.
As he struggles to keep moving fast, his fingers scramble to finish buttoning his shirt and fix his tie. He makes a quick stop at a Starbucks and almost runs face-first into the door because it’s a pull, not a push. Awesome. A few of the customers waiting inside send him some funny looks for that one.
Will ignores them and heads straight to the pickup counter, where several orders are already waiting. A girl on the other side with her curly brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, flashes him a smile as he approaches. If she notices how frantic he is, she shows no sign of it.
“Will! I have your order right here,” she says, sliding two cups toward him. “How’s your morning?”
“It’s great. Yeah, thanks,” Will hurries to say, already picking up the cups and darting to the door.
He’s back on the street before the barista can even process his response and maybe if he wasn’t so panicked right now, he might feel guilty for not knowing the girl’s name. He sees her all of the time. She even wears a name tag! But it isn’t important. The only thing that matters is that he’s in his boss’s office at least one minute early with his morning coffee.
I’ve got this. It’s fine. I’m fine.
I’m definitely not getting fired today.
At least he didn’t have to order at the store and wait in line. Ordering on the app saved him some time and with a quick glance at his watch, it may have afforded him just enough. Just to be safe though, he skips several crosswalks in favor of dodging and weaving through another kind of traffic, and hell, getting honked at, yelled at through rolled-down windows, and risking his life is still worth whatever consequence he could face from showing up late.
When he finally steps into his building, he has four minutes left.
He sprints to the elevator, which is already dangerously close to its max capacity, and slides in just before the doors can close. It’s an Indiana Jones sort of moment and again, he’d find that way more amusing if it wasn’t thanks to his current situation. Several of its other occupants get pushed back as he enters and they have to wait for the doors to open and close again before they begin to lift. Will offers a halfhearted apology and tries to steady his breathing and his racing heart.
Three minutes.
His office is on the forty-fourth floor. The elevator stops several times before then. Will watches the buttons light up one right after another. His floor is next.
Two minutes.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Will speedwalks—because he can’t run inside—into the hallway. He passes by the front desk, where the receptionist comments about him “cutting it close.” Will musters up a strained smile and a nod in her direction, but he doesn’t feel bad about it. Here, everyone understands the importance of him making it on time. They get it because they know who he’s dealing with; who they all have to deal with.
He turns into the large office space where his little cubicle sits among a sea of others and bumps straight into another coworker. The cup in his left hand ends up crushed between their chests and the still-steaming liquid splashes down the front of his white shirt.
“Oh my god!” Will exclaims.
Looking down at the large stain, he’s hit with a whole new problem because he can’t show up looking like this. That alone might be enough to get him kicked out of this company and if not, his boss will nag him about it for the rest of the day.
“Shit, sorry about that,” the man—maybe Jake—says.
Will glares at him, ready to chew Jake out for not looking where he’s going, but there’s no time. He shakes his head and storms over to the cubicle next to his own.
“I need your shirt.”
One minute.
Patrick spins around in his chair and gives Will an incredulous look. “What? Why?”
“I can’t go in there like this and I’ll owe you one, okay? Whatever you want. Tickets to a basketball game. Anything.”
“There’s a game-”
“Done,” Will says. “Now, come on.”
The process of ducking down in Patrick’s small cubicle and switching shirts is another risk in itself, but they’re fast and no one’s paying attention to them anyway. Everyone is on high alert for their resident editor-in-chief to arrive. And that’ll happen any second now.
“Dude, you okay?” Patrick asks.
“Let’s hope so,” Will says as he finishes with his buttons.
Patrick’s shirt fits better than he thought it would. The other man is a lot more athletic than Will is, but maybe his body’s gotten more defined from having to run around all of the time. Honestly, so much of himself has changed since moving here and getting this job, and with how busy the work keeps him, he isn’t surprised if some of it happened without him realizing it.
He tries not to dwell on how depressing that is.
“Wish me luck.”
Right on time and one minute early as he’s meant to be, Will arrives in his boss’s spacious office. The room is connected to the same space as the one where all of the cubicles are, but with its own door and windows. The ones facing the rest of the office have blinds but the ones on the side of the building are uncovered and provide a remarkable view of the city and its skyscrapers. Most of the time when he’s in here and battling down a mixture of anxiety and anger, he soothes himself by looking outside. He’ll never get the chance to draw the view from here, but every day he works to commit it to his memory more and more. Some day, he might be able to sketch it well enough from that alone.
But that day won’t come until he’s moved up the ladder of this corporation. Who knew being an assistant would be so demanding?
With his free hand, he pats down his hair and hopes beyond hope that it doesn’t look as sweaty as it feels. Once that’s done and the wrinkles of his borrowed shirt have been brushed down, footsteps sound outside of the room. Will shouldn’t be able to recognize footsteps so well, but he just knows who they belong to and sure enough, there he is.
Michael Wheeler—or Mike as he insists to be called—appears in the doorway in a perfectly-fitted black suit and blue tie. Will takes in the sight of him with his sharp features and black waves of hair that fall just above his shoulders.
Mike steps into the room with his attention fixed solely on the phone in his hand. His work day hasn’t even officially started and Will has no doubt his boss is already dealing with one of their clients. The only two things Will respects about the man are that he’s amazing at his job and he takes it very seriously.
“Morning, boss,” Will says, a fake smile in place. “You’ve got a phone conference in thirty minutes-”
“Yes, with the marketing team. I know,” Mike says, taking the coffee cup from Will’s hand and striding over to his desk. He doesn’t spare Will a single glance as he sits down and stores his cell phone in one of the drawers.
Will clenches his jaw and keeps going. “There’s also a staff meeting at ten.”
“Did you call- Oh, what’s her name? The one with the squeaky voice?”
“Tammy? Yes, I did call her,” Will says. He walks around the desk to move a stack of papers in front of Mike, which his boss starts flipping through without question. “I told her that if she doesn’t get her manuscript in on time, you won’t give her a release date. Also, your immigration lawyer called and said it was imperative that you-”
“Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets,” Mike replies, still flipping through the stack of papers. “Oh, and get ahold of PR and have them start drafting a press release. Chuck is doing Fallon.”
Will begins to walk away so he can follow up on all of these lovely changes to Mike’s schedule but stops as he processes the last demand. For months, Chuck Bailey, one of their most popular authors, has been getting invitations to go on different shows. To Will’s knowledge, he’s always denied them though. The fact that this is happening and that Mike is probably responsible for such a feat is, well, impressive.
“Wow. Nicely done.”
Disregarding the papers, Mike reaches for the coffee cup and clicks his tongue. “If I wanted your praise I’d ask for it.”
And there’s Will’s cue to leave. He should have known better than to compliment his boss. It’s been proven time and time again that any of Will’s thoughts and opinions mean nothing here.
Right as he gets to the doorway, Mike clears his throat, and Will stops walking. With a swallow, he turns around to see his boss with the cup raised in front of his face. He appears to be reading the side of it and for a second, Will’s heart plummets. Did he give Mike the wrong order? Did he mess up?
“Um... Who is Stacey and why does she want me to call her?”
Dark eyes flit his way and every muscle in Will’s body tenses. Mike hardly ever looks at him and when he does, it always makes Will nervous. Something about that stare makes him feel like he’s being held underneath a microscope with every inch of him on full display to the other.
He sighs. “Well, that was originally my cup.”
Mike rests his cheek in the palm of his hand while he twirls the cup idly in his other. “And I’m drinking your coffee because...?”
“Because yours spilled.”
He hums and brings the cup to his lips. Will’s fingers twitch at his sides as his boss takes a long sip and then considers the taste of it. The corners of his mouth curve into a smirk and Will glances out the windows. Remember why I’m here. Remember why this is all worth it.
“So, you drink a white chocolate mocha with two pumps of cinnamon dolce syrup?”
“...Yeah. I do.”
“What a coincidence.”
“Yeah. It really is,” Will says, straining to maintain any facet of politeness under Mike’s smug gaze. “And it has nothing to do with me drinking the same thing as you in case yours ever spilled.”
The phone rings and Mike nods expectantly toward it even as his smirk grows.
“That would be pathetic,” Will finishes as he goes to answer it.
Of course, it is pathetic because that’s exactly why he does it and they both know it now. Will doesn’t know how his teeth haven’t fallen out just by how unnecessarily sweet the drink is. It’s definitely not what he’d ever go for himself. He prefers his coffee to be as unsweetened as possible, but apparently, all of Mike’s taste buds must have died as a child for him to like something so vile.
“Good morning! This is Mr. Wheeler’s office.”
A familiar voice greets him through the phone, one that he isn’t particularly fond of either. He frowns and glances at Mike, who’s studying him carefully from across the room.
“Hey, Angela,” Will says.
Mike perks up in his seat and points at the door. Will understands the silent gesture and cuts off whatever Angela’s trying to say to him.
“Actually, we’re on our way to your office right now.”
“Oh, okay.”
Mike stands from his desk, still holding his coffee, and starts for the door. Will glances between him and the phone and hangs up before Mike can leave him there.
Why are we going to Angela’s office? He never received any emails informing him of this and Mike never brought it up until this very second. He rakes through his mind, desperately searching for any errors he may have made, but Mike doesn’t seem upset with him so maybe this really is just happening out of the blue. Either way, he doesn’t ask. He already knows he won’t get an answer.
They leave the room and Will matches Mike’s pace so that they’re walking side by side. Their coworkers eye them not-so-subtly as they work their way through the room. Will doesn’t miss the glares on some of their faces, but Mike is as unbothered as ever.
“Hey, um, did you get a chance to look through those drawings I sent you?” Will whispers.
It might not be the best time to bring this subject up, but with Mike, such a time doesn’t exist. He may as well take his chances now.
“A little bit. I wasn’t impressed.”
Translation: no, he didn’t look at them at all. Will’s eyes narrow and he knows he should hold his tongue, but this is why he’s here. This is why he’s suffering through all of Mike’s bullshit, so the least his boss can do is give him the time of day for once in his life. Looking at the drawings would only take a few minutes too and Will’s certain there’s something there. There’s real potential and the company—this publishing house—could use it.
And yeah, Will could use the promotion too. It’s what he’s been dreaming of. It’s why he moved halfway across the country to be here.
“Can I say something?”
“No.”
“I’ve read thousands of manuscripts. I’ve seen the graphic novels, comics, and children’s books this company takes on. I know what you look for and the art I create is exactly the type of stuff you want in the things you publish. If you’d just give it a chance, I know-”
“Uh, wrong. You don’t know what I look for,” Mike interrupts. “If you did, you’d have my job and wouldn’t be stuck ordering the same drink as your boss just in case you spilled theirs, which by the way is, in fact, pathetic.”
Before Will can weigh the pros and cons of arguing, they arrive at Angela’s office, which is almost identical to Mike’s, but half the size. She stands up from her chair and faces them with a practiced smile. Where Mike is the editor-in-chief, Angela is one of the editors. She has a reputation of being one of the best ones too, but as most of the successful higher-ups here tend to be, she’s rather unlikable. Her “perfect” appearance does nothing to make up for what a massive bitch she is. Not that she’d ever be Will’s type anyway.
“Ah, Mr. Wheeler. I always love to start my mornings in your presence,” she says. “Please, do come in.”
Though her voice is saccharine sweet, it’s so over the top that Will cringes. He lingers by the doorway as Mike walks into the center of the room. He takes a sip of his drink while maintaining eye contact with the editor.
“So? What do I owe this pleasure?”
“Angela, I’m letting you go.”
Will does a double take, uncertain if he heard Mike right, but nope. That’s definitely what he said. Angela is equally as taken aback by the casual manner of it all.
“What?” She questions.
“I’ve asked you over a dozen times to get Chuck to do Fallon, and you didn’t do it. So, you’re fired,” Mike explains with a shrug.
A shocked laugh escapes Angela as she brushes a strand of blond hair behind her ear. She glances at Will as if to ask him if he believes any of this. When she looks back at Mike, her smile becomes rather strained.
“I told you. Chuck refuses to do any talk shows and he hasn’t done an interview in over twenty years. It’s impossible.”
“Well, that is interesting because I just got off the phone with Chuck and he’s in.”
Long, spider-like fingers tap against the side of the cup as Mike sends Angela a challenging look. Will peers out the door. This doesn’t really feel like a conversation they should be having so openly, but no one’s telling him to shut it... He fidgets with his hands and hopes Angela goes down quietly. Judging from Mike’s cold demeanor, there’s no chance in hell she’s walking away from this with her job still intact.
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t even call him, did you?”
“But-”
“I know. I know.” Mike takes slow steps up to the desk. “Chuck can be a little scary to deal with for you. But, I’ll give you two months to find another job and then you can tell everyone you resigned. Okay?”
Left speechless, Angela stands frozen as Mike turns on his heels and strides out of the office. Will ducks through the doorway as well, keeping close to Mike but stealing anxious glances behind them. With a shaky inhale, he spots Angela snap herself back together. Her eyes narrow into slits as she storms out of her office.
“You fucking asshole!”
Fingers stop tapping on keyboards, pens freeze over paper, and every head turns to the three of them. Will stops himself from running into Mike’s back at the last second.
“You can’t fire me!”
Will all but throws his back against the nearest wall so that he’s not standing in between the two of them. Mike, on the other hand, turns around and rests a hand atop one of the cubicle walls. He regards Angela as if she’s a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“You don’t think I see what you’re doing here!? Sandbagging me on this Fallon thing so that you can look good to the board?” She talks as if the whole room should be on her side, and maybe, to some extent, they are. “You’re just threatened by me! And, around me, it just becomes all the more obvious what a loser you really are.”
Mike takes another languid sip of his drink.
“Outside of this office, you have absolutely no semblance of a life. So, you think you can come here and treat us all like dirt because it makes you feel like you matter, right? And you know what? I feel sorry for you. Because apart from your career, you know what you have? Nothing and nobody, and you never will.”
Will starts fidgeting again. Everyone in the office is watching even if they’re trying to keep it unnoticeable. How could they not be? Some of them are enjoying this too. He can tell. Hell, as much as Will dislikes Angela, everything she’s saying is something he’s thought himself. Except, he doesn’t think he’d ever tell Mike something like this to his face. Especially not so harshly.
He doesn’t expect Mike to crumble from what’s hardly above playground insults though and he doesn’t. Mike only sighs and takes a few steps closer to Angela, his hand sliding along the edge of the cubicle.
“Listen carefully, Angela,” he says, his voice much softer in contrast to her shouts of accusations. Somehow, he doesn’t even sound mad, which only makes her look worse. “I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened. I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you spend more time hooking up with random guys than you do in your office. And if you say another word, William here is going to have you thrown out on your ass.”
Angela opens her mouth.
“Another word and you’re walking out of here with an armed escort. William will film it and put it all over social media, which will make it a lot harder for you to find another job. Is that what you want?”
Her lips pull into a thin line as she shakes her head. Mike smiles at her.
“Didn’t think so. I have work to do.”
Again, they leave Angela behind to deal with her career crashing down in the blink of an eye. Will almost feels bad for her, but it’s difficult after she made such a scene. For that alone, Mike was probably right to let her go. Still, it would have been nice if his boss left his name out of their disagreement. Actually, it would have been nice if Will hadn’t been dragged along for the whole thing at all.
“Oh, right. I’m going to need you around this weekend so you can help me review her files and manuscripts.”
“This weekend?” Will asks.
Mike turns to him. “What? Do you have a problem with that?”
“No! I- I... It’s just that with the holidays, I was going to fly home and visit my family-”
With a roll of his eyes, Mike starts walking again. Frustration bubbles inside of Will at his boss’s indifference. Clearly, Mike doesn’t care about how his assistant spends his Christmas. Probably because he doesn’t have a life outside of work. Just as Angela suggested.
“...Yeah, no. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll cancel it,” Will says. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.”
But Mike’s already slipping inside his own office and Will’s words may as well have been spoken to a wall. Good talk. As usual.
And yeah. Okay. This isn’t the first time he’s had to cancel plans with his family. In fact, he’s had to do it at least twelve times in counting because not once since he’s started this job, has he managed to get time off to visit Hawkins. And that’s totally okay too. It’s not like he misses his mom, brother, stepsister, stepdad, and all of his friends. It’s not like he doesn’t cry himself to sleep constantly because he never has any time to try meeting new people in this stupid city either.
For two years, he’s been reverted to nothing more than Mike Wheeler’s personal servant. Of course, he should have seen this coming from miles away.
Yeah. Will knew today was going to be rough.
***
Firing Angela is easily the highlight of Mike’s week and it’s only Wednesday. They both joined Holloway Publishing as editors around the same time and even then, they didn’t get along. Not that he really gets along with anyone but that’s beside the point. It was always snide comments and passive aggression from her; however, when he got promoted to editor-in-chief, things changed. Since he became her boss, she couldn’t exactly be as openly bitchy with him as she used to be, but that didn’t stop her from annoying Mike in new ways.
Unfortunately for Angela, ignoring his requests regarding Chuck Bailey—which was starting to make Mike look bad to the board—didn’t just succeed in pissing him off. It also gave him all of the justification he needed to get rid of her.
So, yeah. After a few years of dealing with her, Mike’s floating on cloud nine. This day can’t get any better than this. This whole week even.
His lips tug into a smile as he flips through one of the manuscripts on his desk, checking to see the newest revisions that this particular author made. It’s short-lived though, as he realizes how much work it still needs. Fuck. They’re going to have to go through at least one more round of this, he’s sure. But Mike’s going to be limited on time with tying up all of Angela’s loose ends. Great.
Well, this is what he has Will for, right?
He’s probably done making those scheduling changes by now, so Mike may as well give him something else to do. He stretches as he stands up, his spine cracking much more painfully than it should for someone his age. His posture’s always been a nightmare though. Then, he walks out of the room.
Now, Mike might be the slightest bit oblivious when it comes to some things, but he’s not an idiot. He sees the way people tense and jump into making themselves look busy as soon as he enters the busier cubicle space. He spots the occasional eye roll or glare in his direction. And it’s not that he’s unaffected by it. He’s not. Contrary to popular belief, he is a human with actual feelings, but the thing is, he’s used to being disliked. He’s always been an outcast. He’s always been alone.
At the end of the day though, he’s just doing his job. If these people can’t handle that, then they won’t last very long. That’s all it is.
As Mike approaches Will’s cubicle, he finds him hunched over with his phone to his ear. A bead of sweat runs down the back of his neck and his fingers are clenched so hard around the device, there’s a real possibility that it might break. Immediately, Mike knows that this isn’t a business call. However, as soon as Will notices Mike’s only a few feet away, his assistant makes a point to wrap up the call as if he’s apologizing about a submission of some kind.
“Was that your family?” Mike asks, stopping a couple of feet away from him.
Will spins around in his chair and nods. His eyes look suspiciously wet, but Mike keeps the observation to himself. Will said something about having to cancel his holiday plans, right? Crying about it seems a little dramatic though. He can’t possibly be that close to his parents. Mike hasn’t talked to his in five years.
“Personal calls are for breaks only.”
“Yeah, sorry. I know-” he’s cut off by the sound of his phone ringing again. He sends an apologetic look at Mike before answering. “Mr. Wheeler’s office.”
Mike leans his back against the edge of the cubicle as he waits for the call to finish.
“Yeah. Yeah. Alright. I’ll let him know. Thanks.” The call ends and Will looks up at him. “Holloway and Lowe want to see you upstairs.”
Now? Really? Mike sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Come get me in ten minutes. We have a lot to do.”
“Alright.”
He leaves just as fast as he arrived, his mind spinning with the countless possibilities of why Tom Holloway and Bruce Lowe want to see him. Obviously, it’s not for anything bad. Hell, he got Chuck Bailey to agree to go on Fallon on his way to the office this morning. There’s nothing to reprimand him for in terms of his job performance. That’s a fact. However, he can’t think of any other explanations either. Unless it’s about Angela. Is it about Angela?
It isn’t.
As soon as he’s standing in Tom’s office, Mike understands that this is about him.
“Michael, do you remember when we agreed that you wouldn’t go to the London book fair because you weren’t allowed out of the country while your visa application was being processed?” Tom asks, seated behind his desk.
“Yes, I do.”
“And... you went to London.”
“Yes, I did. We were going to lose Benson so I didn’t have a choice, did I?” Mike lets out a breathy laugh as he says it. He’s right, of course, but he knows disregarding their agreement wasn’t the best look either. Shit, is that what this is about? That was months ago!
“Well, it seems the United States government doesn’t care much about publishing conflicts,” Tom says, carding his fingers together.
“We actually just spoke to your immigration attorney,” Bruce says. He’s standing over by the large windows on the back wall, arms folded together like he’s top shit. He really isn’t, but if his orange spray-on tan makes him feel that way then good for him.
“Great. So we’re all good? We’re all good?”
Tom sighs. “Michael, your visa application has been denied-”
“What?”
“-And you’re being deported.”
“Deported!?” Mike balks. Why? It’s not like he’s from the other side of the globe or anything. He’s from Canada. Canada! Who deports a Canadian? It doesn’t make any sense.
“Apparently, there’s also some paperwork that you didn’t fill out on time.”
“Come on. This is- This is ridiculous! There’s got to be something we can do, right? Right?”
“You can reapply but unfortunately, you have to leave the country for at least a year,” Bruce explains.
It takes him several seconds to digest that piece of news and it sounds even worse in his head than it did coming out of Bruce’s mouth. Shit. This isn’t good at all, but maybe it’s not the end of the world. Maybe. Hopefully.
“...Okay. That’s not... ideal. But, uh- uh- I can manage everything remote with video conferences and-”
“Michael, if you’re deported, you can’t work for an American company.”
“Until this is resolved,” Tom says, “I’m going to turn operations over to Angela-”
“Angela, who I just fired!?”
“We need a new editor in chief and no one else in this building has enough experience.”
“You can’t be serious. After everything I did for this company?”
“Michael. Michael, we would prefer to have you stay and if there was any way—any way at all—that we could make this work, we would,” Tom says. “We’d be doing it.”
Mike drags his fingers through his hair and it takes everything in him not to tug some of it out. He’s about one second away from having a complete meltdown. This job is his everything. It’s all he has. What’s he supposed to do without it? Go crawling back to his parents and tell them that they were right about him messing things up for himself in the US? That it would have been smarter to stay in Toronto and work for his dad’s company instead? All while stupid fucking Angela steals his office and his title away from him?
“No, no, no. There has to be something-”
His words die in his throat as a knock sounds on the door. All three of them turn as it opens wide enough for Will to stick his head through.
“Excuse me. We’re in the middle of a meeting,” Tom tells him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
Surprisingly, Will doesn’t shy away from Tom’s dismissal and stays posted in the doorway. He looks at Mike, hesitating when he notices the state he’s in. Slowly, Mike lowers his hands to his sides, revealing his now disheveled hair to everyone as he waits expectantly for whatever it is Will wants to say.
“Um, sorry. I have Tammy on the line and she says she needs to talk to you. It’s really important and I told her that you were already engaged in something else-”
None of this is relevant to Mike now and he practically tunes it out. Only one word makes him pause. Engaged.
He asked for something—anything—and this is it. There’s no time to think through the finer details of it. Will’s here, he doesn’t have a ring on his finger, and he’s obligated to listen to Mike. Kind of. Not like this. But they’ll work it out.
And in the moment it takes for the lightbulb to flash on over Mike’s head, he does a quick once over of Will. He hardly ever looks at his assistant more than he has to. It’s how he deals with everyone so it’s not weird for Mike, but now that he’s forcing himself to really look... Well, maybe it’s a good thing he hasn’t done it before.
Will’s slightly shorter than Mike is, but his shoulders are wider. Broader. Through the material of his button-up shirt, Mike can just make out the tone parts of his arms. And his face is nice. His jaw is sharp and his brown hair looks like it’d be nice to run his fingers through and- Yeah, if Mike’s going to do this with anyone, Will’s not a horrible choice for it. Even if he is a guy.
“-But she insisted. So?” Will finishes whatever it is he was saying. He blinks several times, cocks his head, and asks again, “So?”
“Uh...” Mike gives a discreet motion of his hand that grabs his assistant’s attention but also confuses him. “Get in here,” he whispers and that finally does the trick.
Will cranes his head behind him before stepping into the room and closing the door as awkwardly as if it was an afterthought. Mike motions to him again and Will takes very slow, cautious steps toward him.
“Uh,” Mike turns back to the other two, bringing his hands together so that they won’t fidget so much. “Gentlemen, I understand the severity of the um, predicament that we are in... And, well, I think there’s something that you should know.”
He nods to himself and then steps backward until he’s standing directly next to Will.
“We’re um... We’re getting married.”
As if to emphasize this point, he darts a hand over and taps a few fingers against Will’s chest in what’s meant to be a show of affection. Mike’s never done anything like this before though and this entire situation is weird, so it hardly passes as that. Still, it gets Will to gawk at him.
“Wha- Who’s we?” He asks, and thank everything he’s speaking quietly. His voice is hardly above a whisper which means that Mike can pass it off.
“You and I,” Mike whispers back. “We’re getting married.” The second time he announces it, it sounds more confident and Mike tries to rest his hand on Will’s chest instead, his fingertips trembling nervously along the edge of his assistant’s tie.
“We are-?”
“Yes,” Mike cuts in, mustering up a grin to make up for his supposed fiance’s stumped expression. “I know this sort of came out of... nowhere, but we were trying to keep things between us private. You know how it is. Work and home’s best to be kept separate...”
Will continues to mutter half-formed questions under his breath, but he’s not arguing. Great. Awesome. Mike’s caught him so off guard with this that Will’s stopped functioning and that’s exactly what he needs right now.
“Isn’t that your secretary?” Tom asks.
“Assistant,” Will tries to answer.
“Executive assistant,” Mike adds.
Will gives him yet another incredulous look that Mike dutifully ignores.
“But it wouldn’t be the first time we fell for one of our assistants, would it? Right, Bruce?”
Mike’s not letting the hang-up on this solution come down to him having a “relationship” with his underling. Especially not when Bruce and probably even Tom have had affairs with their own secretaries and assistants. At least, Mike found one closer to his own age.
“So, yeah. Uh, the truth is, William and I are just two people that weren’t meant to fall in love... But we did.”
“No,” Will exhales.
“You know, all of those late nights at the office, weekend book fairs... Things got a bit-”
“No...”
“I guess, just something happened.”
“Something,” Will almost chokes.
“Yeah, you can’t fight a love like ours,” Mike says, shifting his hand higher until he can wrap it around Will’s shoulders and press their sides together for a split second before releasing him. Will stands rigid through the whole thing, but he doubts he’s any better himself. It’s not like he wants to get physically affectionate with his assistant whom he knows can’t stand him. And in front of their superiors who visibly cringe at the sight of something so minor between two guys is just... painfully uncomfortable. “So, are you good with this? Are we good? Because we’re happy. We’re so happy.”
“Michael.”
“Yes?”
Tom offers a strained smile. “It’s terrific. Just make it legal.”
“Oh, right. Yeah,” Mike says, nodding vigorously. He kind of forgot that this would entail more than just fooling Tom and Bruce. To keep Mike from being sent out of the country, he has to get the government on board with this too and that does unfortunately mean making things legal.
Shit. Is this really going to work? There’s no way Will’s going to agree to this. He’s not actually going to marry me. He’d never want to do something like that.
Mike glances at Will again, but it’s impossible to get any insight into his mind other than that he’s extremely anxious and confused. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem disgusted, but he might not understand the seriousness of the situation yet. It’ll come eventually. Mike gulps.
“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to swing by the immigration office then, huh?” He laughs and pats Will’s shoulder. “Won’t we? So we can work this whole thing out.”
Will gives some semblance of a nod.
“Alright, so, thank you very much, gentlemen. We’ll get this taken care of right away.”
If it takes approximately three minutes to get from this office to Mike’s, then that’s all the time he has to come up with something that might convince Will to agree to this. Because if Mike’s married to an American citizen, he can stay in America. That’s the one and only loophole he knows of and it really, really needs to work.
But Will’s nice. Even though he’s intimidated by Mike and probably harbors strong feelings against him, Will’s never been anything but polite and compliant. So, surely, that’s how he’ll be about this too.
Right?