Chapter Text
It was his first party, and he loved it.
The dim strobe lighting, the cheap alcohol he definitely wasn’t supposed to be drinking, the pulsing of some Madonna song blasting so loud it made his teeth rattle.
The feeling of a wet, hot tongue on his neck.
It had been so sudden, Will wasn’t even sure if it was happening at all. He had been dancing in some stupid way with El, drunken giggles and swarming mass of bodies around him.
Brown eyes, dark brown, almost familiar, looking him over, examining him, choosing him.
Being dragged to a more secluded room, a loft, perhaps– as hands explored his body.
Waist, arms, hips, driving him crazy, crazy in a way he’d never been before, a crazy he was supposed to be with someone else, together.
But it was better than going crazy alone.
And then the tongue. God, the tongue. Will hadn’t expected it to be like this, hadn’t expected it to feel so good. What a thing he’d been missing out on, pining forever after his straight best friend. If this is what he’d been able to have if he’d gotten over Mike, maybe he would’ve done it sooner.
Because fuck, it was amazing. He’d never been so happy to refuse to play a campaign.
He was too distracted by the dampness on his neck to notice the door creak open quietly, a partygoer probably seeking solace from the chaos in the rest of the house. He was too busy with the feeling of a slick muscle gliding down his throat to notice the sharp intake of breath. But he wasn’t too preoccupied to notice the curly black hair and familiar blue sweater, blinking dazedly as his sluggish brain put together the image of his best friend.
There stood Mike, in all his glory, clutching a red solo cup and looking taken aback. His eyes darted from the guy still slobbering on his neck to Will’s own face, expression morphing into one Will couldn’t read.
Will knew he should probably do something, push away this stranger or stutter out some excuse. Maybe even kick Mike out– but he found that he didn’t care. Why should he be the one to apologise, to stop what he was doing? He wasn’t the one who had interrupted, Mike was– it wasn’t on him that Mike didn’t know how to take a hint. And the sensation of the stranger’s tongue on his neck was just so delicious, he didn’t wanna bother stopping for some awkward encounter. So, he just stared at Mike.
He knew how he probably looked to his friend; pinned against a wall with pupils blown and face flushed from alcohol and lust, a random guy’s hand halfway up his shirt while the other gripped his waist in a way that was sure to leave mulberry bruises to wake up to. He knew he looked like a lust-ridden mess, but he couldn’t be assed to make himself presentable. He came out to Mike a year and a half ago, he wouldn’t say anything about catching Will getting snogged in someone’s bedroom at Stacey’s party. Even if he were grossed out, disgusted, he wouldn’t say a word.
Mike remained frozen, eyes locked on Will’s, until he felt the delightful sting of teeth scraping his skin. It wasn’t much, just a nibble, not even enough to leave a mark, but it made Will gasp nonetheless, his grip around the stranger’s shoulders tightening as his back arched in response. Suddenly Mike’s eyes were on his neck, and he was gripping his plastic cup so hard it threatened to spill its contents onto the carpeted bedroom floor.
Will could’ve laughed at Mike’s expression, if he weren’t currently preoccupied by stronger sensation. His friend’s face was hardened into an almost violent expression, and he was staring daggers at the man with his tongue on Will’s neck like he had personally offended him. There was another thing to his expression, though– a blackness to his already dark eyes, as if his pupils had swallowed the light whole. Will’s breath hitched.
Mike was jealous.
Years of pining, of watching silently from the sidelines, of ‘it’s not my fault you don’t like girls’, for Michael fucking Wheeler to finally want him as he’s getting practically eaten against the wall at a house party.
Jesus fuck, this guy was going to be the end of him.
He wondered if it had registered in Mike’s head yet, what he was feeling. Probably not, considering how dense his friend was. The poor hamster up there must be working overtime on that wheel to process his homosexual awakening.
For the second time in five minutes, Will found his expression laughable. This idiot was finally putting the dots together. Finally realising that Will’s feelings hadn’t been unrequited.
Which was nice, and all, but Mike didn’t deserve Will yet. Not until he had earned it.
After all those years, Will wasn’t going to give up the first time a boy had liked him just because Mike’s monkey brain had finally caught up to the present. No, he was going to enjoy this– watching the want burn in Mike’s eyes as he witnessed another guy have Will. And yeah, maybe it was mean, but after everything he’d been through… he deserved to be a little evil.
So he maintained eye contact with Mike as someone else’s tongue slid over his neck, inwardly preening at the jealousy in his best friend’s eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Enjoyed the awkward flush that captured Mike’s face as his eyes followed a stranger’s hand drag up his shirt. Felt a thrill at the visible swallow and shaking of the cup as throaty noises escaped his lips. He deserved this. Mike could fumble and turn red and look envious all he wanted, but he was going to have to prove himself if he wanted to get to have the privilege of Will.
And just maybe, if Mike earned it, he’d let him have a taste.