Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first thing Will notices when he wakes up is the throbbing headache that follows a night of too much drinking. Even in the darkness of the room, the pain was radiating through his skull in a way that made him have to screw his eyes shut. The sun hadn't even risen yet, but the dim lights of the city and stars leaking through the curtains is just enough to be too bright.

The second thing Will notices is the dull ache in his lower back. The sensation is not unfamiliar – Will has had sex plenty of times to recognize it. Not to mention the very obvious feeling of bedsheets brushing against his completely naked skin.

Which leads to the third thing Will notices.

This is not his bed.

And the fourth thing?

The body lying next to him is very much not his boyfriend.

Will gazes at the mystery person out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to risk any movement. He's racking his stupid, foggy brain for memories of last night. This man is pale, lanky, bony, Will observes. Angry red scores stand out against his fair, lightly freckled shoulders. A dark hickey on the side of his neck. Teeth marks. Will's handiwork, no doubt. Lifting his eyes a little higher, he sees a mess of curly, black hair. It's not unlike his boyfriend's, Will thinks, but it's looser, more wild. He resists the urge to run his hands through it.

His hands tingle with the memory of tugging at that hair. Pulling it and drawing moans from–

Shit.

Last night's memories hit him like a freight train.

One drink too many. Laughing over shared memories turning to hands sliding up thighs, whispered confessions, a stolen kiss in the dim bar lighting. Anxious hands. Sitting far too close in the back of a taxi. The dam finally bursting the second the hotel room closes behind them.

Desperate. Messy. Hot.

Touching and tasting every inch of skin–

"Fuck," Will whispers.

He should have known better. He really should have.

"You really don't want me going with you?" Will's boyfriend asks as he watches Will shrug on a jacket by the front door. 

Will shakes his head, not sparing him a glance at first. "No, really, it's fine. You have an early day tomorrow, I don't want you losing sleep being out at a bar while I catch up with a childhood friend. You would get bored," he assures him, throwing a smile over his shoulder. "I've known Mike since we were five. You've met him. You liked him. It'll be fine."

"That's not…" his boyfriend sighs. "Nevermind." Will stands up a little straighter, turning to face him properly.

"What? You don't trust me?" he asks incredulously. The two of them had been dating for over a year. They lived together, for Christ's sake.

"Of course I do!" he immediately replies. "It's just…Think of how it feels for me a little. Your childhood best friend who you were in love with for like eight years? How can I compete with that?"

It's a valid concern. But also, "He's straight. He has a girlfriend. There's no contest, dummy," Will says with an eyeroll. "I haven't thought about him like that since high school. Seriously, it's just getting drinks while he's visiting New York."

Will's boyfriend looks like he's trying his best to believe him. It's annoying. Will couldn't cheat even if he wanted to. Besides, he's over Mike. They called maybe once or twice a month at most these days, just when they had news to share. Mike had mentioned a couple weeks ago he was considering proposing to his girlfriend this year. Will didn't even feel a lick of jealousy. He felt only happiness for his friend. If anything he was proud of Mike – Mike is one of the most emotionally constipated people Will knows. It's a big deal he felt ready to commit to someone.

"I'll probably get back really late. Don't wait up, okay? I'll see you in the morning. Promise," Will says softly before taking his keys and opening the front door.

Liar.

"Love you," he calls out before closing the door behind him. And he means it.

His boyfriend’s words ruminate in his mind a bit as Will climbs into a taxi and gives the driver the address of the bar. Just a couple years ago, Will’s heart would be exploding out of his chest at the thought of being alone with Mike at a bar. More for fear he would say something stupid. Get too honest. The alcohol could make him too bold.

Hot breath against his ear, wet suction on his jaw, hands sliding lower—

But now? Will didn’t feel like he had anything to hide. He’s happily committed. Mike is just his childhood friend, now. They may share some things that most childhood friends don’t — secrets, nightmares, memories that should never be spoken — but that’s not exclusive to Mike. Lucas, Dustin, Max, Jane, hell even Erica, Holly, Jonathan, Steve, Robin, and Nancy. It’s something they all share. Damn near half of Hawkins, really.

So why did Will start to feel a knot of guilt in his stomach the more he thought about it? He knows he can never tell his boyfriend about it. Even without the government threat breathing down his neck, he would simply never believe Will. Maybe if he watered it all down — made it digestible, as Jonathan and Nancy would say — he could share something.

He makes a mental note for later. There's plenty of time to open up about all that stuff. For now Will just wants to focus on having a nice night out.

Mike is visiting New York City from his place in Middletown for the week to do some interviews and networking for a writing fellowship he was trying to get. He seemed incredibly excited about it over the phone, telling Will about all the successful authors that had come out of this program. His application has made it into the late stages now, and he wanted to celebrate with Will. Catch up. Reconnect. 

Even though NYU and Wesleyan were only a hundred miles apart, they rarely have the time to see each other in person anymore. Mike is always busting his ass working on some manuscript amidst his college assignments, and Will has been learning so many art mediums and styles that it makes his head spin. 

Will feels his chest jump a bit in his chest when the taxi stops in front of the bar. He hasn’t seen Mike in almost six months — the whole Party had gotten together for Mike’s birthday. Mike’s girlfriend and Will’s boyfriend had both been there, too. It almost felt like a family reunion in that way. Family members and their partners all gathering in one place. 

Tonight it’s just Will and Mike.

Willandmike. Mikeandwill.

When was the last time it was just the two of them, Will wonders. And he really can’t recall. The summer after graduation, maybe? It felt like the Party was always together, though. Never just the two of them, like when they were really young.

Opening the front door, Will’s eyes scan the inside of the small dive bar that Mike had asked they meet at. It isn’t overly crowded. A respectable number of patrons are sitting at tables or at the bar. Sitting in the back corner, on a stool at a high table, is Mike, of course. His hair is longer than Will remembers, falling in loose curls around his face like a work of art. He’s fixated on a notepad, eyebrows knitting together under his long bangs as he writes something with extreme intensity. Glasses rest low on the bridge of his nose. It’s so beautifully candid. The sound of Will entering the bar didn’t even faze him. 

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Will quietly weaves his way across the room, brushing shoulders with strangers, before sidling up beside Mike’s table.

”Is this seat taken?” he asks playfully, leaning against the table.

Mike doesn’t look up. “Sorry, I—oh!” His attention quickly shifts as he nearly falls off his stool to pull Will into a hug. “Shit, man, I didn’t see you come in!” He holds Will tight for a second, just long enough for Will to unconsciously breathe in the scent of Mike’s cologne and shampoo. Woody and fresh, like citrus and sandalwood. Will’s traitorous heart stutters, and his fingers curl tighter into Mike’s jacket for half a second before they both pull away. Will smiles and takes the stool opposite of Mike’s.

”So, what’re you working on? Seems pretty interesting,” Will hums, gesturing to Mike’s small notebook.

”This? No, nothing you’d care about,” he says, shaking his head. “Just gathering my thoughts. You know me, always wanting to say the right thing.”

Will tilts his head. “Always, huh? Are you sure?”

”Shut up, I was like fourteen when I lost my filter,” Mike chuckles, eyes flickering down to his notebook. “That’s why I’m trying to write it down. So I don’t say the wrong thing and ruin my chances.”

”Mike, seriously, you’re one of the most talented, hardworking writers I know—“

”I’m the only writer you know.”

”—and I also know that these guys would be stupid to not accept your application. You’ve been working your ass off ever since you left Hawkins. And I don’t have to read that manuscript to know it should blow that fellowship program out of the water,” Will says, unbothered by Mike’s interruption. He says it with conviction; he means every word. Even if Mike won’t let anyone he knows anywhere near that damn manuscript, Will feels that it’s amazing. Mike’s talent wouldn’t deliver anything less.

“Thanks, Will,” Mike coughs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. After a beat, he clears his throat. “So, drinks?”

”Vodka cranberry,” Will replies sweetly, batting his eyelashes for good measure. 

Mike rolls his eyes, trying not to crack a smile. “Guess this round is on me, then?”

”I’ll pay for the next drinks, promise,” Will says as Mike walks to the bar to order. And he can’t keep himself from trailing his eyes over Mike’s form. Well-worn blue jacket, dark jeans, dirty converse.

Shucking off his jacket and throwing it across the room all while trying to not break the kiss. Fumbling with each others belts—

He comes back moments later with Will’s vodka cranberry in one hand and a neat whiskey in the other. “You say you’ll buy the next round, but don’t you get wasted after two drinks?” Mike teases, settling back on his stool.

”I’m not nineteen anymore, Mike, I can handle a few cocktails,” Will shoots back with a smirk. And it’s kind of true, what he says. He’ll be shitfaced after three drinks, not two. “And you say all that as if you don’t get drunk after like three beers.”

”Guilty,” Mike concedes, taking a long sip of his whiskey. “Good thing I don’t have any responsibilities tomorrow.”

”Ah, so you want to get plastered, then?” Will’s own drink is fruity and bitter as it hits his tongue. A little warmth immediately blooms in his chest a little as he swallows. 

Mike lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got good company with me, I think,” he says over the rim of his glass.

The way he looks at Will should have set off alarm bells in his head, but Will simply props himself up on an elbow and takes another drink. ”I’m so flattered.” And it’s subtle, but Will thinks he catches Mike bite his lower lip for a second.

Abort, abort, abort.

Will clears his throat loudly. “So. You mentioned you were thinking about proposing to your girlfriend, right? Do you have anything planned yet, or is it just in the idea stages?” he asks, desperate to steer the conversation away from anything that makes Will feel like old wounds are being prodded. “I mean, I assume you’d have an elaborate scheme.”

”Elaborate scheme?” Mike scoffs into his drink. “You make me sound like a mastermind.”

”Mastermind. Dungeon Master. Same thing, really,” Will shrugs. “So, do you?”

”I…no, nothing yet. I know I said I was thinking about this year, but with school and this fellowship application, it feels like too much to add on,” Mike admits. “I’m too busy to do it the way I want, y’know?”

”Like I said, Elaborate scheme,” Will says with a playful lilt. “You love her, right? If you want this, you need to stop psyching yourself out. I know you, Mike, you’re always going to look for a reason for the timing to be wrong.”

”Yeah, of course,” Mike says, more to himself than to Will, it seems. He traces the rim of his glass with a fingertip. “I’ll think about it, I dunno.”

”I think if you feel like you’re both ready, you should go for it. Get out of your head and be spontaneous,” Will adds.

”How do I know if I’m ready?”

”You’ll know. You can feel it everywhere, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, y’know? Like when you finally solve a puzzle, and the answer is suddenly the easiest conclusion. You’ll feel silly that you didn’t see it there all along,” Will tells him, not realizing he’s already finished off his drink until he tries sipping air.

Mike looks like he’s forgotten to breathe. His mouth silently opens and closes a couple times. Speechless. When he finally composes himself he says, “I’m supposed to be the writer, aren’t I? Stop being so good with your words.”

”I’m naturally gifted like that,” Will teases with a wink, standing up from the table. “I’m gonna get another drink. You want one?”

Mike knocks back the last of his whiskey. “Yes.”

The two of them are about three drinks deep, hours growing later. They’d passed the time reminiscing about Hawkins and gossiping about old friends. Will heard from Lucas that Erica and Tina Turnbow are in an on-again off-again relationship. Mike heard from Nancy that Steve has started dating a single mom. They both had heard from Jane that Hopper is trying and failing to become a better cook, and that they need to be supportive next Thanksgiving. Jonathan has been driving one of his professors crazy with his avant garde film projects. And apparently Holly is trying to run one of Mike’s old campaigns, and she keeps calling to complain about the plot holes.

A pink flush starts standing out against Mike’s fair skin, and Will can feel his own face burning from intoxication, too.

”It’s funny, you know,” Will slurs a bit as he speaks. Mike scoots his stool closer to the table, leaning closer to listen intently. “Before I left my apartment, my boyfriend was being weird about me coming here without him. But I told him he would be bored just listening to us talk.”

”Are you bored, Will?” Mike almost sounds hurt.

”Pfft, no, that’s not what I meant,” Will quickly corrects himself. “Just that it’s nice to be able to talk to you. Just you. Without having to worry about paying attention to everyone else.”

Mike hums, looking relieved. He swirls his glass of whiskey around thoughtfully. “I know what you mean. When was the last time it was ever just the two of us?”

Will takes another long drink. “I was thinking about that on the way here. It might have been before graduation, honestly. It was always us and other people. Always a party, never a duo,” he hums. “Not that I minded.”

”I think it was my fault,” Mike admits quietly, nose now pointedly in his glass. “I…No, nevermind.”

Moving a little closer, Will frowns. “Mike you can’t just say that and expect me not to ask for more,” he says. “Your fault, how?”

“Forget it, man, it was a long time ago. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Mike grumbles, polishing off his drink as if it isn’t the very thing that loosened his tongue. 

“Mike.”

”We’re having a good time, Will. Can we just leave it? I don’t want to kill the vibe,” he’s almost pleading, sitting up and away from Will. 

He’s definitely hiding something.

”Mike, please. I’m not gonna be mad. There’s not a lot you could admit that would make me upset at this point,” Will assures him, reaching out against his better judgement and resting his hand on Mike’s wrist. He flinches, but doesn't retract his arm. “Besides, you hate lying.”

Mike sighs in defeat, starting down at Will’s hand. “I was scared to be alone with you,” he says so softly that Will almost missed it. “Okay? I was…scared.”

Will shakes his head, not understanding. “Mike, what do you mean scared?” A million possibilities ran through his head. Vecna? The nightmares? The memories? Or…

Will’s hand tenses.

”Wait. Is it because—“ he starts to accuse Mike. 

Because I’m gay?

“No!” Mike cuts him off quickly, putting his free hand on top of Will’s. “God, no, Will it was all on me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Will leans even closer now, enough to make out the freckles on Mike’s cheeks in the dim bar lighting. “Then why?”

Biting his lip, Mike looks anywhere but at Will’s face. “You were…so confusing, Will. Ever since we were kids, even. But we were best friends, y’know? I thought that you were special just because I’ve known you since the first day of Kindergarten. And because we went through so much shit together,” he starts to explain slowly. Will hears the anxiety in his voice. “To tell you the truth, though, it was never like that with Jane. And it made me mad, because I couldn’t understand why.

”And, Will, when you said what you did back then…Of course I was proud of you. Of course. But all those things you said scared the shit out of me. And once we finished off Vecna and closed the gate, there was nothing to distract me from thinking about it. Being around you made me think about it. And if we were ever alone…”

Will doesn’t even realize he stopped breathing, or how close he had gotten. His knee was pressing against Mike’s thigh. He hung onto Mike’s every word with wide eyes and parted lips. Mike still wouldn’t look in his direction.

“On the radio tower you said you just wanted to be friends, so after that I was just scared of acting without thinking. Of doing something really stupid,” he whispers, finally looking at Will through the corner of his eye. “Scared of ruining everything. Every time, I felt like I…But I promised we would be best friends. I didn't want to betray that again by getting ideas in my head.”

A dryness settles in the back of Will’s throat. The alarm bells from earlier were muffled by the pounding heartbeat in his ears. Will has a feeling. And when Will has a feeling, it matters. He takes his free hand and puts it on Mike’s thigh. Subtle, but bold. Mike turns to meet his eyes fully, widening a fraction. His pupils are blown wide, some combination of the low light, the alcohol, and something else.

”The truth is terrifying,” Will agrees quietly. “Trust me, I know.” And he feels a bit bolder, sliding his hand higher. Mike gasps, but doesn’t push him away. His hand squeezes Will’s own tighter.

”I wanted to tell you,” he murmurs, getting dangerously close. “But telling you would make it real.”

Their breaths mingle a little. All rational thought is gone. In fact, for a moment, the whole world seems to have dissolved away, leaving only the two of them fitting together like two cautious puzzle pieces.

”Friends don’t lie,” Will says breathlessly. He stops leaning in. Waiting.

So Mike goes for it.

The kiss is quick. Light. Ended almost as quickly as it started. A singular flickering spark across both of their lips before fizzling out. But Mike is panting like he’s run a marathon. The half second of contact burns Will’s mouth like a brand, and he feels over twelve years of raw yearning that had been long buried suddenly catch fire like dry grass. It wasn’t gone at all. Just waiting.

As much as Will wants to dive back in for more — a chill settles down Will’s spine as he remembers their surroundings. It’s dark, and nobody notices them right now, but everything Will wants definitely can’t be taken in the middle of a bar. Mike seems to realize this as well, frozen in place as they sit locked in each other’s stares.

”Will.”

”Mike.”

Mike swallows hard. Thinks for a moment. But not for too long before the words, “my hotel is like ten minutes away from here” spill out of his mouth.

Will doesn’t even reply. He jumps out of his seat and drags Mike by the hand out of the bar as fast as they can manage without breaking into a run. Mike’s hand is shaking in his own, interlocking their fingers and squeezing tight. Any and all voices screaming in Will’s head to stop go completely ignored. Will’s mind can only focus on that Mike is right here, Mike just kissed him; Mike wants him. Literally nothing else in the world could possibly penetrate his thoughts, because it’s Mike.

They burst outside, the chilly October air hitting them almost aggressively. But the drunken buzz and pooling heat in his chest and navel keep Will warm just fine as he frantically hails a cab. Mike stands close behind, almost breathing down Will’s neck. He doesn’t have to see Mike to know that barely contained restraint is written all over his features — Will feels the same way. His hands itch to touch. Mouth eager to explore. That something buried in his heart has been waiting for over a decade wants out. For now, he squeezes Mike’s hand again as if to say “I know. Me too. Just wait.”

A cab finally stops and they both clamor into the backseat. Mike rushes to give the driver the address of the hotel before slumping into the seat. They're cramped together, body heat making the backseat suffocating. The tension is taut like a rubber band stretched to its limit. He’s trying to contain himself. But Will can’t keep his eyes off Mike now. He sneaks a hand onto Mike’s knee.

”Will,” he warns, voice raspy and barely there. He doesn't dare look in Will's direction. He tries to keep his composure (what little composure is left).

Will scoots a little closer. “Mike,” he returns, like a call and response.

Mike’s eyes dart nervously between Will and the taxi driver. The cabbie seems completely inattentive to the pair of them in the back. So he throws caution to the wind, mirroring the hand Will has on his leg and sliding his own up Will’s thigh. A gasp escapes Will’s lips as he squeezes, the faint warmth of his fingers burning like open flames through Will’s jeans.

He needs Mike now.

The time it takes the car to arrive outside the hotel feels far too long. Mike practically throws the money at the driver before pulling Will out of the car and into the building. 

Mike is breathing hard, dragging Will through the halls and up the stairs until they finally make it to his room. Will feels weak in the knees watching Mike fumble for his key.

”Mike, I swear to god,” he hisses, breaking the silence between them. Mike stands rigid until he unlocks the door and damn near kicks it open and yanks Will past the threshold. And Will is given no warning or time to regain his footing before he’s being slammed into a wall. Mike is on him.

Their second kiss could not be more different than the first. The one in the bar was a quick brush; something briefly stolen. Now? Will feels like he’s being devoured on the spot. The first few heated presses quickly evolve into wet slides, tongue, and teeth. Mike’s large hands cup both sides of Will’s face while a knee between his legs keeps him pinned against the wall. Will’s hands, meanwhile, are everywhere. First holding Mike’s wrists, and then greedily sliding up his arms until he grips the front of his jacket and pulls him impossibly closer. The motion causes Mike’s thigh to grind forward, and Will makes the most embarrassingly needy noise into Mike’s mouth.

That really sets Mike off. Without breaking the kiss, he practically tears his own jacket off and throws it so hard the material slaps loudly against the opposite wall. A man on a mission, he swats both of Will’s hands off of him and shucks his jacket off, too, and it falls to the floor around Will’s feet. Will then throws his arms around Mike’s neck, walking them both a few steps away from the wall. He kicks off his shoes, all the while continuing to chase the heat of Mike’s mouth.

Gripping both of Will’s hips, he steers Will further into the room until the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed. Their mouths finally disconnect, both gasping for air.

”Will,” he pleads, fingers clumsily tugging at the buckle of Will’s belt. “I need you. Please. Please.”

Will's chest is a roaring fire now, heart pumping gasoline to only make it grow with every single touch from the man opposite him. It’s like he’s suffocating, and it’s also the first time he can truly breathe in a long time.

”I’m right here,” Will breathes. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

”Always,” Mike echoes, unburdening Will of his belt and tugging at the hem of his shirt next. Once that's stripped away, he doesn't hesitate to shove Will backwards. Will's back hits the mattress with a bounce, knocking the air from his lungs. He's given very few seconds to catch his breath before Mike is on top of him, manhandling him to the center of the bed while latching his mouth onto Will's jaw. A breathy moan escapes Will's lips.

"M-Mike–" he stutters, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Off. Now."

Mike whines against his skin, like the very suggestion of detaching his mouth for even a second was too much. Nonetheless he obliges, whipping it over his head, glasses caught in the neckline along with it, and throws it away before diving back in. He sinks his teeth into Will's shoulder like he's starving for it.

"Jesus," Will gasps loudly and writhes, hips instinctively rutting up into Mike's hip. The younger boy sucks a harsh bruise into Will's skin. Not satisfied with one, he trails his mouth back up Will's neck, leaving a constellation of hickeys in his wake. 

Nerves on fire, Will can't help his helpless shudders and moans under Mike's blistering mouth. He continues to grind against Mike's hip, desperate for some relief of building pressure. Mike mindlessly ruts back, damn near purring as he nips at Will's earlobe.

Breath hot against his ear, Mike pants, "You gotta stop that. I'll come way too fast." His fingers press hard into the flesh of Will's waist, forcing his hips to stop. "You don't know…The effect you have."

"Then show me," Will murmurs, fingers struggling to undo the front of Mike's jeans. He licks the shell of the older boy's ear in reply. "Fuck, Mike, I need you to show me."

"Anything you want," Mike breathes, following Will's hands and stripping off his own jeans. But that did no good when Will's were still on. Will frantically kicks off his own pants, eyes never leaving Mike's.

Like this, nearly naked, Will can see how Mike's entire body is flushed rosy pink – a combination of the alcohol and the heat. Mike looks ethereal, a soft blend of colors that Will suddenly itched to put on a canvas. His own skin doesn't fair much different, his face and ears burn, and he can see the red blush blooming down his chest.

A very thin barrier of cloth now separating them, Will is now fully aware of how wet he is. Both of them, actually. His eyes wander to the very dark spot at the front of Mike's boxers, and his entire body ignites at the realization that it's all because of him. He made Mike like this, hard and soaked when they've barely touched.

"Oh, Christ," he whimpers, hands pawing at Mike's shoulders as his brain struggles to find a place to put his hands. Mike moans in agreement, pressing his thumbs against Will's hip bones. The contact burns like a branding iron. "Mike–"

"Say my name again," Mike gasps, hips involuntarily twitching on top of Will. "Please."

Fuck. Will's brain short circuits as he chokes out another "Mike."

Mike grinds down with more purpose, leaning back into Will's space. "Again," he pleads, breath mixing with the other boy's as their mouths hover half an inch apart.

"Mike."

Another grind of their clothed dicks. Will feels like melting candle wax. "Again."

"Shit, Mike–"

Mike whimpers pathetically, humping against Will in earnest now despite warning Will not to mere minutes ago. His lips awkwardly clash against Will's as he begs, "Again–"

He could come like this, he thinks to himself. He really could. The off-rhythm molten rutting through increasingly dampening boxers is somehow more delicious than any proper sex Will has had in recent memory. Something so primal and pathetic like a little dry humping in Mike's hotel room manages to be the sexiest thing on planet Earth. Mike's pathetic begging and whining only pushed him even closer. Heat pools in his lower belly, and Will starts breathing louder. Desperate.

"Jesus Christ," Will huffs out in exasperation before fisting Mike's dark hair and yanking to the side, exposing the pale column of his throat for easy access. Will would be damned if he's the only one who's covered in marks. When he starts pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Mike's neck, the younger boy's arms threaten to give out as a full body tremor shivers down his spine.

"Will," he whines, stopping his grinding with what must have taken a Herculean effort. Will just bites his collarbone in lieu of replying, coming back down from the edge he'd been rapidly approaching. "Will, I w-wanna…"

"Yeah?" Will kisses his way back up to Mike's mouth, leaving a shiny trail of saliva behind. "Tell me, babe." The pet name slips out unbidden, but Mike seems to love it. 

"Wanna fuck you," he says shakily, a finger curling into the elastic of his boxers. "Tell me how."

Good lord.

Will feels himself momentarily struck dumb by the request (as if Mike would have said anything else). "I-I…" he stammers, chest rising and falling quickly, "I want that. So bad. U-um…"

Everything gets chilly for a second as Mike sits up, craning over to the side and fumbling for something on the bedside table. Hands shaking, he turns back and drops a small jar of pure aloe vera gel on Will's chest. "This should work, right?"

For lube, are the words that go unspoken. But Will can't stop himself from asking, "...Why do you have aloe vera gel?"

Mike throws his hands up like he's being interrogated. "It helps with my hair, okay? Will it work for…y'know?" he asks, totally flustered. Will can't help but giggle at the way Mike was so easily embarrassed by something so, so trivial.

Eyeing the container sitting on his chest, Will hums thoughtfully. "It'll certainly be a lot nicer than spit," he concludes. Mike bites his bottom lip, eyes scanning Will's body. Will feels his cheeks get redder under his gaze. "A-anyways, I have to…y'know, prep before you can fuck me."

Mike's eyes widen. "No, let me," he insists, picking the aloe back up before Will can get his hands on it. The two of them rearrange themselves so that Mike can more comfortably sit between the older boy's parted legs as he propped himself against the headboard. Mike stares hungrily at Will's clothed cock before lifting his gaze a little as if asking for permission.

Will squirms a little in place. Nods. Lifts his hips so Mike can rid him of that remaining barrier. Cold air hits the sensitive, damp skin of his dick. Will shudders.

"Have you ever…?" Will asks as Mike looks down at his flushed pink cock in awe. Will clears his throat a bit awkwardly. "Mike."

Mike shakes his head like he's coming out of a trance. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just…" he trails off. "Wow."

"It's really not that impressive," Will snorts. He's not being modest, he knows he's extraordinarily average in size. Certainly nothing to write home about, let alone stare at in reverence.

"No, it's just…" Mike opens and closes his mouth wetly. "It's just…it's you. Will you're…" His lack of cohesiveness really reminds Will how drunk the two of them are. "You, y'know?"

Will chuckles. "Uh huh."

"Sorry, sorry…" he mumbles, tentatively unscrewing the container of aloe vera. He locks eyes with Will. "Tell me what to do."

Anxiety and anticipation lump together in Will's chest. He licks his lips and takes shaky breaths. "Be generous with the gel. Start with two fingers," he says.

"Wait, two?" Mike asks incredulously and freezes up. "Will, isn't that–"

"I can take it," Will cuts him off, sure of himself. "I want this." And maybe it's a little reckless; his judgment is clouded by lust and booze, but it's not Will's first time by any means. Consequences are a problem for future Will.

"Shit, okay, okay," the other boy pants out, liberally slicks up two fingers and does his best to warm them. Through hooded eyes, he asks, "Now what?"

"Mike, surely you can figure–"

"I want you to tell me," Mike insists, creeping closer. Will feels his mouth go dry. "Tell me exactly what to do to you."

A moan sneaks out of Will's lips. He swallows, finding his voice again. "Push your fingers in me. Slowly," he rasps. His heart hammers in his chest as Mike's hand nears his hole, reflexively tensing up. The first careful press of fingertips just on the outside made Will flinch. Mike brought his free hand to rest on Will's inner thigh, rubbing soothing circles into soft skin with his thumb.

"Okay?" he asks gently. Will nods, eyes pleading.

Once Will relaxes, two fingers steadily breach his opening and barely ease into the first knuckle before pausing. There's quite a bit of resistance at the sudden stretch, but Will would be lying if he said he isn't getting turned on by the slight sting. The fact that it's Mike seems to make his body react more receptively.

"Keep going," Will pleads, willing his body to accept the stretch quicker. Mike's eyes lower to look between his legs, watching transfixed as his fingers sink further. Will makes a flustered noise of protest, suddenly shy. "Stop looking at me like that."

Halting his progress, Mike tilts his head curiously. A shit-eating smirk creeps over his face. "Like what?" he asks, knowing damn well.

"Like…I don't know!" he splutters, ears growing hot.

"You take my fingers so well," Mike hums, finishing pushing to the second knuckle. He curls them a little, making Will squirm. "It's pretty hot." Will swats Mike on the elbow.

"Stop talking," he grunts before grabbing Mike by the neck and pulling him in. The kiss is extremely uncoordinated but somehow exactly what Will wants, all tongue and teeth. Mike's fingers jostle inside of Will in just the right way, making him arch his back until their chests touch.

Will moans into Mike's open mouth, "Thrust your fingers just like that." Mike nods wordlessly against his forehead, pushing his fingers in and out with more purpose. Impatient, Will rolls his hips into Mike's hand. "'M not gonna break, Mike."

Permission granted, Mike finger-fucks Will in earnest. His long fingers reach so much better than Will's do, finding that spot that makes Will shudder with ease. Mike presses into it, making Will moan and dig his nails into Mike's shoulders. "Christ, Mike," he whines. Mike purrs his approval, rubbing tight circles that made Will leave angry red marks where his nails dragged over pale skin. He feels desperate for more contact, burying his face into the side of Mike's neck and mouthing at the sweaty skin.

"You can add another finger," he gasps, voice muffled. He whines when Mike pauses to get more aloe, but is quickly rewarded with a third digit wiggling beside the pair already working him open. Taking a deep breath, Will relaxes himself and tries not to tighten up at the added intrusion. Mike murmurs quiet praise into his hair, how he's 'doing so well' and he 'feels so good'.

Three fingers bottomed out, Will doesn't take long to adjust before he's rolling his hips and chasing the pleasure from before. "Mike, please–"

"I'm only doing what you tell me to," Mike says cheekily. Will can feel that stupid smile pressed against the crown of his skull.

Will huffs angrily, pulling back to meet Mike's eyes. "Screw it. I need you to fuck me. Now," he all but growls while his hands fumble to tug at Mike's briefs. But the angle is weird, and he can't get them to budge.

Mike's eyes go wide. "Dude, are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't call me 'dude' right now, oh my god," Will snorts, palm slapping his forehead and wiping down the front of his face. Still, he laughs. Only Mike would say something so innocuously stupid while three fingers deep inside Will's ass. It makes Will's big, dumb heart skip several beats, overly fond. And Mike's smile is equally big and dumb.

"I know what I can handle," Will assures him once the giggles subside. "You said I should tell you exactly what to do, so I am." Will sits up a little, enough to press his lips to Mike's ear and whisper, "So fuck me like you mean it."

Mike somehow manages to whimper with his entire body like a giant dog. Retracting his fingers and scrambling to obey, Will barely has time to mourn the loss before Mike is shaking his briefs off his ankle and reinvading his space.

Will stares at Mike's now-exposed dick with wide eyes. Suddenly, he understands why Mike couldn't stop staring at his earlier. It's not about the size or shape or color (all of which were quite nice, Will thinks), it's just the sheer fact that it's Mike. The same Mike he once fantasized about having like this; a sight previously only in his imagination.

He wonders if Mike ever thought about him like that, too. Back then, back in Hawkins.

Mike pauses. "I don't have–"

"It's fine," Will cuts him off, pressing a heel into the small of Mike's back. "It's fine, just…"

Eyes darkened with lust, Mike nods frantically and fumbles for the aloe. "Okay… okay…"

The few seconds the younger boy takes to stroke layers of gel over his dick feel like a tormented eternity to Will. He fails painfully empty and cold, itching for the roaring fire of Mike's touch to come back. He grabs at Mike's free hand and interlocks their fingers. The simple touch soothes his impatience, and he can relax again.

When the slippery tip finally kisses Will's entrance, he squeezes Mike's hand in anticipation. Mike leans in, pinning their joined hands beside Will's head. "Tell me," Mike murmurs.

"Mike…" Will says heavily, "Fuck me. God, Fu–" He doesn't even get the chance to finish begging before Mike obeys and Will has to cut himself off with a shaky groan. Shallowly thrusting into Will's hole, Mike distracts him from the new discomfort with slow, drawn out kisses to Will's mouth. A right hand comes up to cradle Will's jaw, better tilting his head for a deeper angle. It's by far the slowest and most intimate kiss they've shared. Will gets dizzy off of it, quietly moaning every time he gets the chance to breathe.

At about halfway deep Mike pauses. "Good?" he asks against Will's mouth.

It's a little more uncomfortable than normal thanks to Will's impatience, but he's taking it just fine. In fact, it feels incredible. Every inch of skin is sensitive, keenly aware of everywhere Mike is touching him. Their joined hands, his hips against Will's ass, Will's leg wrapped around his lower back, Mike's hand caressing his cheek like something precious. Will is on fire.

"Don't stop," Will whispers, goading Mike to keep kissing him. "Feels amazing."

Mike's hips jump forward a little bit quicker, startling Will. But Mike listens, keeps inching in at a careful pace.

"Liked that, did you?" Will can't help but ask. Mike hums, kissing down Will's neck since he decided he's going to start talking. "Want me to tell you what a good job you're doing?"

Mike purrs against his throat, cock twitching inside Will.

"You're doing so good, Mike," Will praises, feeling a bit devious. He grins wider when he feels Mike tremble.

"Will," Mike warns, detaching his mouth from a fresh hickey.

"You do like it," Will says with a chuckle. "I can say more. I can tell you what a good boy you–"

Mike bottoms out with a quick thrust, immediately silencing Will's teasing. Will feels like he forgot how to breathe, mouth wide open as he stares at the ceiling in shock. Now that Mike is completely nestled within him, he's acutely aware of how full he feels. He aches a bit from the stretch, but god it's all so good. It's not just the fullness or the contact or the heat – Will feels completely connected. He doesn't know where he ends or where Mike begins.

They've barely even started. How the hell is Will so high off of some foreplay and hasty fingering? And Mike isn't faring much better. Is sex supposed to always feel this good? Or is Will just really drunk?

Maybe it's just because it's Mike.

"Talk to me, Will," Mike grunts, barely holding it together as he keeps still. 

Will musters the weakest, most embarrassing mewl of his life to let Mike know that he's listening.

Mike huffs out a laugh, breath hot against Will's neck. "Is that a good noise? Or should I stop?"

"Don't you dare," Will punches out, soul suddenly dropping back into his body. The mere suggestion of stopping flipped Will's fuzzy brain back into focus. He takes a few steadying breaths. Mike retreats from hiding his face in Will's shoulder, looking down at him with wide, dark brown eyes. Wordlessly begging like a puppy under the dinner table. Will resists the urge to scratch behind his ear.

"Will…" he pleads, grinding his hips in a circle in a way that makes Will's toes curl. If Will had more patience, he might consider waiting longer just to see Mike really beg for it.

As it is right now, Will has waited long enough.

"Move, Mike," he says, squeezing their interlocked fingers.

He doesn't need to tell Mike twice. 

The first slide of Mike's cock going in and out is so teasingly slow, as if Will is made of glass. Will has half a mind to scold Mike for being too careful with him. Any words of scolding are immediately knocked away as the second thrust drives in with purpose. Will's nails rake down Mike's back, making him hiss.

"Jesus, Will," Mike grimaces from the sting. But he doesn't stop. If anything, Will's reaction spurs him on. His free hand moves under Will's knee, spreading his legs wider and changing the angle. 

The shift is minute but good god it feels divine. Will's head tips up. He arches his back. Rolls his hips, meeting each thrust and keening when it hits just right.

"Mike," he gasps. 

"Uh huh–" Mike's apparently dedicating all his braincells to fucking Will into the mattress of his hotel room, gaze fully transfixed on where they're joined.

"M-Mike…"

"Hmm?"

Will grabs Mike by the hair and pulls him into a kiss. Desperate. Pleading. It snaps Mike out of his stupor. 

"Need you," he breathes heavily into Mike's open mouth, "to touch me."

Never leaving Will wanting, Mike is quick to shift his weight around. Will's neglected cock bounces between them with each thrust; the only friction it receives is when it wetly slaps against Will's stomach. Mike takes their joined hands and brings them both down to stroke Will's cock together.

Oh god.

"That's–" he chokes out, eyes screwing shit. "Good, so good, Mike."

He hears Mike swallow hard.

"Yeah?" Mike's voice is rough. Strained.

"So good for me–"

Mike whines. High pitched. Needy.

It makes Will feel so powerful. Even when he's the one getting all the treatment, somehow he still has Mike making noises like that. 

"Keep talking, please–"

"Mike, you're so…so…" Will forces his brain to find words. They're not coming to him. Lost in the growing static in his mind.

"Please, Will."

Will kisses Mike again. It's mostly tongue and spit, but god it's delicious. Heat coils tight below his navel. Begs for release. His legs spasm. Heel digs into Mike's spine.

"Mike, I'm–"

Mike pulls back. Locks eyes with Will.

"Mike–"

He jerks Will faster, and the way it makes Will's back arch off the bed is downright obscene. Their chests press together, hearts hammering.

"If you– I can't–" Will is babbling. "I'm gonna–"

"Got you," Mike pants. "I've got you."

Will tugs at Mike's hair. Knots his fingers in the loose curls. Mike moans loudly.

Another thing to note for later, Will thinks hazily. In his mind, they are going to do this again. And again. He can't believe they haven't been doing this all along, actually.

"Will," Mike murmurs with a tremor as Will rapidly approaches his limit. "Say my name again."

"Mike–"

"Say it when you come," he pleads. His eyes are hard locked on Will's own. Like he's trying to brand this memory on every one of his five senses. For just a few brief seconds, he wants to claim all of Will as his. 

Will comes with a broken cry and a string of syllables that could roughly translate to Mike's name. He does his damndest to keep his eyes open, wanting to memorize how Mike looks at him. The upward curve of his eyebrows. His lips parted in awe. The dark rosy blush of his cheeks, sweat on his forehead. A sparkle of wonder in his eye.

(Will absently muses painting it on a chapel ceiling.)

Will's whole body suddenly goes boneless, like a puppet with cut strings. The hand in Mike's hair slides down his shoulder and unceremoniously flops onto the bed. He is vaguely aware of the sticky mess now coating his fingers and stomach, but too gone to be grossed out.

Mike is shaking. "Woah."

"Woah," Will agrees dreamily. His eyes go a little unfocused. 

It takes Will another solid ten seconds to realize that Mike is still stupidly hard inside of him. He'd only stopped thrusting for Will's benefit.

"Mike?"

"I'm here."

"You didn't…"

Mike squirms a little, ears turning red. Will feels the way he twitches inside his spent hole. 

He wants it bad.

"Keep going," Will urges him.

"A-are you sure?"

Will has never been so sure of anything in his whole life.

"You've been so good," Will hums, using every ounce of strength to run teasing fingertips up the sensitive skin of Mike's inner forearm.

"Ah–"

Mike's hips start to move again. Unsure, yet eager. 

Will feels like a god.

"That's it," he encourages softly. His overstimulated nerves start to burn in protest, but Will forces himself to ignore it. The pleasure of watching Mike fall apart far outweighs the pain. "Good boy."

Mike's hips jump forward. Both of them yelp at the sudden sensation.

Will is drunk off of it.

"Just like that," he praises as Mike finds a quicker rhythm. Shocks jolt through Will's spine.

"I– Will, I–" Mike's head falls forward onto Will's chest. Both of his hands fumble and cling to Will's waist.

"Yeah?"

Mike whimpers again. "I'm– oh, god, I'm–"

"Take what you need, babe," Will says softly, bringing a limp hand up to stroke Mike's hair. Coaxing him. "I've got you."

"Will, can I?" Mike pleads through broken moans. "Can I? Inside, can I?"

Will is so caught off guard by how gone Mike is right now. He laughs a little. 

A petulant whine. "Please? Please, please, please–"

If Will could replay anything from tonight forever it would without question be the sounds of Mike Wheeler begging him in the most pathetically soft voice to let him come inside.

"God, yes," he moans. 

Mike's shuddering all over. "Tell me again. Say I'm–"

He cuts himself off. Like he hadn't meant to say it. Will is honestly impressed Mike has any filter left.

"Say you're what?" Will asks innocently.

Mike sobs.

"You like being called good that much?" Will laughs airily. 

Mike nods against his chest.

"You've been so good, Mike," he says, relishing in the way Mike moans with his whole body. "Such a good boy for– ah!"

Mike bites down hard on Will's shoulder when he comes, cutting Will's sentence off abruptly. Loud cries are muffled by Will's flesh. He writhes, body trying to push away and get closer all at once. More. Too much. Not enough. Mike stops biting. Pants loudly. Drools a little. Will feels himself being filled with heat that threatens to consume him whole.

So, so warm.

A heavy body collapses on top of him, knocking the wind from his lungs. Will wheezes. Mike murmurs an apology and rolls off of him.

The sudden absence of heat makes his whole body shake with cold. But exhaustion starts weighing heavily on his muscles now that the adrenaline has subsided. He can't move. Can barely form thoughts.

Will doesn't even notice Mike has gotten up until he returns, and a warm washcloth is wiping away the cooling body fluids and mess of aloe. 

He thinks he mumbles some sort of thank you, but he's not sure. It might not have been words. If Mike says anything back, Will doesn't decipher it. His eyes flutter closed.

A hand on his forehead. Strands of hair brushed aside. Warm blankets suddenly surround him. He hums contentedly, drifting off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

The weight of it all slams hard into Will's chest worse than the hangover.

Mike.

Will just slept with Mike.

His "childhood friend who his boyfriend has no reason to worry about" Mike.

The straight childhood friend who wants to propose to his girlfriend.

That Mike.

And the worst thing of all? 

Will doesn't feel even a little bit guilty.

Memories of last night are hazy, but their conversation at the bar is crystal clear.

"You were…so confusing, Will. Ever since we were kids, even… And it made me mad because I couldn't understand why."

"The truth is terrifying."

"I wanted to tell you. But telling you would make it real."

No, Will regrets nothing at all. Consequences be damned, Will deserves to be a little selfish. A little stupid. Break some boy's heart. Hasn't he earned that right? 

Mike stirs beside him.

Would Mike regret it?

Would he run away to the safety of his current relationship?

He grabs a pillow and whacks Mike over the head with it.

"Jesus!" Mike's entire body jolts, limbs shooting out like he's been dropped and is trying to catch himself. Then he sees Will staring down at him with narrowed eyes and rolls onto his back.

"What are we?" Will asks shortly. Straight to the point.

Mike looks dumbfounded.

"Will, I don't–"

"No. What did last night mean to you?" he presses. Hangover be damned, he would not start his day getting lost in a potential Mike Wheeler elaborate web of half truths, mixed signals, and miscommunication. They're not fifteen anymore.

"It was…" Mike trails off, searching for words. His brow furrows, mind fighting the hangover. "It's… probably one of the best nights of my life, Will. What I can remember, anyway." He adds under his breath, "I swear I didn't even drink that much…"

Will sighs, tension lowering. "So you don't regret it?"

"Wh– no! No, of course not!" Mike seems greatly offended at the mere mention. "Do you?" 

"Of course not," Will echoes. "Just wanted to be sure."

Mike's voice gets smaller. "Did you seriously think I would?"

Will shrugs. "Your track record from when we were kids isn't exactly great."

"I–" He pauses and thinks about it for a second. "Okay, fair."

He keeps pressing. "And your girlfriend? The one you were going to propose to?"

Mike's breath catches for a second, as if he legitimately forgot about her. "Look, she's great," he starts. Will reflexively winces. The small shift in demeanor makes Mike panic. "No, hey, don't do that! Let me finish, okay?"

Will nods.

"She's a great girl. I like her a lot, but… She's not you, Will. And she deserves someone who can love her the way someone is supposed to," Mike rambles in the way he does when he's really serious about something. It's endearing. "I was probably never going to propose."

Will is unable to mask the sheer joy he feels hearing those words. He puts a hand over one of Mike's. "Sorry. For hitting you with a pillow," he says. "I just really needed to know if you were serious. I can't handle you pushing me away again like when we were in high school."

Mike doesn't hesitate.

"I love you."

That certainly makes Will freeze up.

"Since we were, like, thirteen. I've been in love with you. This whole time," Mike admits softly. He turns his palm up so he can hold Will's hand. "Not telling you for so long has caused me physical pain, I think."

"I'm pretty sure it's just your posture causing that pain," Will remarks with a half smile.

"Look who's talking," Mike retorts. "Have you seen what you look like when you draw? You sit like a shrimp."

"You're exaggerating."

"Honest to god," Mike swears, hand over heart. "Ask Jane or Jonathan. They'll tell you the same thing."

"I think I hate you, actually." Will tries to hide the stupidly fond smile on his face. Mike pokes him in the ribs.

"I love you," he says again.

Will rolls his eyes. "I love you, too, Mike. I have for as long as I can remember."

"...I'm sorry."

Will tilts his head a little, wordlessly asking for more.

"I'm not stupid. I know I put you through a lot," Mike says, squeezing Will's hand. 

"You're a little stupid," Will replies with a smirk. "Self-absorbed. Rash. Reckless, even. Prideful."

"Wow, okay, don't hold back or anything–"

Will keeps going. "But also courageous. Intelligent. Caring. When it matters, you get your shit together. Despite everything, I always felt safer with you around."

Mike’s face turns pink. “Well, I mean…I’m supposed to be your paladin, aren’t I?” he sheepishly responds. “Where would I be without my sorcerer?”

God, Will loves him. He loves this fucking nerd so much. His stupid D&D love language and his big stupid heart and how he looks at Will like he hangs the stars in the night sky. 

He wants to hit him with a pillow again.

"But, Will…Your boyfriend?"

Shit. 

Will groans. "God, he's going to be fucking inconsolable. I told him right before I left that he could trust me. That he shouldn't worry because there's no competition." He puts his head in his hands. "How am I supposed to go home now?"

"I mean…you could break up with him without mentioning why," Mike suggests while sitting up. His tone is lighthearted, as if discussing the weather and not Will's infidelity. "Assuming that's what you want, anyway."

"Don't be stupid, of course I'm going to break up with him," Will scoffs, jabbing Mike with an elbow. "And he's also definitely going to know why I didn't come home last night."

"What is he, a detective?"

"Forensics science major, actually," he corrects. Then laughs. "Not that you need to be a genius to figure out why your boyfriend didn't come home after meeting up at a bar with his childhood best friend who he was in love with for over ten years."

"Sounds like you don't even have to explain what happened, then." Will rolls his head to the side to shoot Mike a very annoyed look. "Just walk in and be like 'Hey, sorry, you were totally right about my extremely sexy best friend–'"

"Extremely sexy?"

"'–so I'm gonna take my things and go. We should break up, but it's not you, it's me' and blah blah blah," Mike finishes with that stupid self-satisfied grin he gets when he thinks he's being witty. 

Will kisses it off of him.

"I think your writing needs work," he mumbles against Mike's mouth.

"Give me a break, I'm hungover. Had a crazy night last night and all," Mike says back between slow pecks. "We'll workshop the breakup speech later."

"Later," Will agrees.