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Will wakes to a soft, small sound. He's not unused to waking with Mike sprawled over him these days, since he's been living with his boyfriend for about seven months now in this tiny, loved apartment, and has quickly found that once Mike Wheeler gets 100% comfortable with you, he drifts towards you in the middle of the night like a wave to the shore.
This morning is different, however. A hand is tightly clutched at Will's t-shirt, bunching the fabric of his beloved Star Wars merchandise that he "borrowed" from Jonathan two years ago. Will, in his bleary state, thinks nothing of it – just Mike being his usual clingy self on a Saturday morning, tell him something he doesn't know and see how he wakes up.
That is, until he hears another broken whimper that is unmistakably his boyfriend's.
Maybe Will's eyes should have immediately opened. After all, that is what Mike's do whenever he wakes up to Will gasping and nuzzling into his shoulder after a particularly horrible nightmare, before he sits up in bed ready to fight any monsters in their bedroom. Until he realises that there are no monsters, and – there's nothing to worry about Will, you're safe. Shh, it's okay. That's not been too regular as of late, but trust Mike, he's ready to spring into action.
Will's mind is different in the mornings. He's not much of a sleeper agent like his boyfriend, and takes approximately two hours to rise from bed almost every day. It's the weekend, Will wants to moan. Mike should know that Will isn't joking when he says that they should become hermits and never go outside. Will would rather rip his hair out than get up at – he slowly looks over at the alarm clock on their nightstand – 7:34 am, Jesus Christ, Mike.
This is what he tries to say now, but it only comes out in a whiny, little groan. Mike goes quiet for a moment, and Will feels the distinct warmth of a nose burrowing into his neck. Like the cat that visits them on their Manhattan balcony every night, he practically purrs. That's much better.
Letting out a relieved breath, Will grins a little before letting himself sink into the pillows, relishing in the tiny brushes of Mike's nose against his pulse point, wondering if he waited a bit longer, a kiss would be placed upon –
Another noise. This time, much louder as it vibrates through Will's skin to his ear. Broken.
Will's heart squeezes with concern. Mike is not one to have nightmares unless they're particularly bad, cursed with the tendency to overthink in the middle of the night, leaving Will sometimes begging him to turn off the lamp and put down the journal. Will knows he can hide them if he really wants to.
"Mm – no – Will." He speaks for the first time, a tiny, cracking thing, so unlike his brave knight. Mike burrows further into the cosy space he's found.
Finally, Will blinks his eyes open, looking down in the dark at the wavy mop of hair only slightly illuminated by dawn peeking through their curtains. Mike's arm is slung tight around his waist too, and Will only notices this once he squeezes his torso, hard, possessive. His mind is slow to catch up, and so he doesn't get a chance to speak before he hears an obvious but quiet sob, restrained in its manner.
"Will, pl… Will…"
Okay. Will moves onto his side, shifting in the mess of blankets to try and discern Mike's expression, before finding it's way too dark to see anything. Mike's hand squeezes tighter at him, calling him back, but instead, Will's joints complain as he reaches for the lamp on their singular bedside table, scrambling for the switch. He eventually turns the room glowing, bright orange.
Instantly, Will's eyes burn. Mike's face seems to scrunch up like an angry cat's, his hands coming up to practically paw at his face as a grumbly whine emits from his throat.
"Hey," Will whispers, eyes still practically closed against the light. "Mike, Mike." He shakes him gently, putting the pieces together in his mind to figure out what's going on here.
One – Mike was very clearly asleep, as his eyes are blinking open now, his lips dry and chapped. Two – He has already concluded that Mike was having a bad dream, but this is made even clearer with the glistening pool of tears below the dip of his eye, too much to be from a yawn. And three – Mike is whimpering out Will's name.
Shit.
"'S okay, Mike. Shh, hey," Will whispers, getting slightly louder as Mike looks around the room like he has no idea where he is, breaking his heart in two. Is this how he looks whenever he has a nightmare, too? If so, he can't blame Mike for taking him in his arms and rocking him, calling him baby, every time Will wakes up from one.
"Will?" Mike's eyebrows scrunch, and then his face dawns with relief, almost, before snapping right back to confusion again. On instinct, Will's hands travel from Mike's shoulders, moving to his face and rubbing over his cheeks.
"Yeah, it's me, it's me," he whispers, sensing a stinging sensation behind his eyes, nothing to do with the tiredness pulling at him. Mike's hair is soft in his fingertips, his eyes darting over him, and now that Will is even more awake, he notices the pace at which Mike's breath is coming, too. "Whoa, Mike –"
"Will, oh – are… you're here," he murmurs, surprising Will with how small he still sounds. He looks young like this, blinking up at him mournfully, sending a wave of fondness sprawling over his skin, making him lean forward and press his lips to his boyfriend's cheek for the first time this morning, as he used to when they were very young kids.
Mike lets out a small, pained whine, so Will lingers there carefully, letting his lips ghost over freckles as he whispers against skin, "I'm here, yeah, everything's okay. You alright, sweetheart?"
Mike melts against him, emitting a small groan – perhaps a sleepy protest against the cheesy pet name that they agreed sounds a little silly coming out of Will's mouth after years of being best friends and calling each other dude and man. Still doesn't deter Mike from calling him the same disgustingly endearing things – baby, my sorcerer (on occasion only), sweetheart, babe, etc. – though, because the rules don't apply when Will wants or needs them not to. This time, however, Will can hardly resist showing his affection when Mike Wheeler, the boy who 'never' cries at something less than a sad movie, is now silently crying into his t-shirt.
Will's t-shirt that is. After last night's lazy intercourse, Mike was left shirtless for his slumber time, which is how he prefers it. Unlike Will, who likes to put something on that makes him feel both like he's just been pampered silly by the man of his dreams (in this case, the something is his boyfriend's boxer shorts) and like he's still his old self after spending an hour drooling and moaning (in this case, his stolen t-shirt, the t-shirt now getting damp with Mike's tears).
"Will, 'm sorry," Mike mumbles.
What? "Hm? You're sorry?" Will asks, frowning down at the mess of black hair which he promptly strokes behind Mike's ear. When he doesn't reply and just nods, Will presses a slow kiss onto it, entangling their legs and getting more comfortable.
"Mm, well, you're not allowed to be sorry for having a nightmare if I'm not allowed," he says, willing his voice to sound less croaky and more soft, trying to emulate how Mike does this whole thing whenever Will needs him. "That's not fair."
This seems to stump Mike, who finally looks up from where he'd been cuddling into Will, his brow furrowed like he's trying to figure him out, glassy eyes darting over his face. He's on top of him now, arms shakily steadying him. Will's surprised he can hold himself up in this state, to be honest.
"What is it?" Will asks, his voice still pitched into that caring tone, hand instinctively caressing its palm along the side of Mike's face and down his neck.
Mike takes another second. Then looks around at the room, head turning left and right, then left again. Will restrains a giggle – not the time nor the place – at the cuteness of it. Maybe once Mike is done sniffling, he can tell him how adorable he is when he's all confused, like his ears are pricking up in interest.
Will lets him take his time, waiting until the moment that Mike's eyebrows lift and he looks back to him with a different expression, one that sends a small stutter through him with its relief.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, it's okay," he whispers. Wow, it must have been bad this time.
"Nightmare," Mike breathes, like he's just learned of the concept, before he starts feeling at Will's shoulders, reaching his long fingers up to brush at his jaw, checking that this is real and he can still touch his skin freely. Then he seems to remember himself, shaking his head as if to shake the embarrassment off, before his gaze falls. "Sorry, god, I was so sc – 'm sorry," His voice cracks.
"Shh, hey, it's alright, Mike. Yeah? Was it a bad one?"
Mike nods wordlessly, wilting and shifting down in the sheets again, burying his nose in Will's sternum and taking a not-so-secretive long whiff of his scent, breathing in and out deeply before rubbing his face over his shirt as if appreciating his physical presence in the rawest way he can. A few seconds pass in this peaceful moment until Mike lifts his head and rests his chin on Will's chest, looking up at him with the worst case of large, puppy-dog eyes he thinks he's ever seen.
Will's hand comes to the back of his head, happy to keep him in this position for a little while longer, chuckling softly. "You look like you wanna talk about it."
Keeping up his reputation, Mike lets out a snort-breath through his nose as he plonks the side of his head back down on Will's ribcage, slightly winding him. Will takes that as an I do, but it's hard. Which he more than understands. "Okay, Mike, that's okay –"
"Will, please don't – I just don't…" Mike trails off, mumbling the rest incoherently into Will's shirt as he moves his hands agonisingly slow, agonisingly sweet, up the sides of his torso, under the cloth and sliding over Will's skin and slight pudge of his waist. Up and down they go, leaving Will squirming with gentle pleasure, exactly where he wants to be. It almost makes him forget that Mike didn't get to finish.
He lets out a happy sigh, closing his eyes at the sensation, before murmuring breathlessly, "Don't what?"
Mike clearly needs a minute to gather his thoughts – and a minute to lazily trace his fingers along the line of Will's borrowed boxer shorts – but Will still believes for a moment that he's fallen back asleep. His breath evens out into slow waves of calm, until:
"Don't wanna lose you. Don't leave me, Will."
"Wh– huh?" What kind of a question is that? Instantly, Will tries to sit up in bed, tries to move the two of them, but his energy is low, and Mike persists in his burrowing, now keeping his cheek squished into his belly as he looks up with even sadder eyes, their melancholy consuming Will's chest with a thousand questions.
"I can't lose you again," he mumbles. So far, he's only spoken in short sentences, but Will has everything he needs to know to assume what Mike must have dreamt about, enough to curl his fingers lightly around Mike's neck and tug him lightly so he gets the message, moving off Will's torso. Persisting in his clinginess, however, Mike opts to possessively throw an arm across Will again and pull him closer.
"What are you talking about?" Will says, a knowing note in his tone. When Mike doesn't respond, he lifts a hand and tries to tuck some of the hair falling in front of his eyes behind his ear. "Hey, Mike. Seriously, you know that everything, everything, is okay. I'm okay. You're okay. We're okay. I'm not going anywhere, we're safe here."
Silence. Mike continues to stare vacantly, his cheek pressing into Will's shoulder, a soft pressure as he tightens his hold on him like that reassurance didn't do the trick at all. Brown eyes are glassy, and his pout, though slightly bratty in nature rather than upset, is still on his face, clear as day.
"Do you want to talk about… what happened?" Will asks, softening his voice further, heart jumping with excitement when Mike looks up at him, making eye contact, his lips twitching in a tiny smile of recognition. "I bet once you tell me, it won't sound so bad. That's what always happens with me."
Mike abruptly plants his face down again and lets out a croaky groan. "It's nothing, it's really stupid… I don't know if I can tell you, honestly," he laughs, self-deprecating.
"What?" Will clears his throat once he hears how loud that came out, but Mike can hardly blame him when that's a number one rule breakage, right? The number one thing that they know should be: "Mike, I won't judge you, ever. Well – maybe for other things like your terrible choice of restaurant last night, but not for serious shit, you know that." He tries smiling and nudging his boyfriend, hoping the reminder of last night's laughter and bickers about Mike's stubborn decision to order pizza from a place they've never tried when Will had begged him not to would hold him together.
It makes Mike snort and look up at him with a fond gaze that warms the centre of Will's chest. A gaze that turns distant once more, as if he's remembering what to speak about.
God, how bad could it be? Will's mind inevitably races to the worst possible things, a cold dread soon creeping up his spine. He'll weather it for Mike, of course, if he needs to wait, but he has to admit, he might scream if he doesn't reveal it in the next –
"You left me," Mike says, gravely serious but somehow still so young in his demeanour, brow a little heavier than usual, lips still pouty. Will frowns too, rubbing at Mike's arm, feeling the soft hairs underneath his palm and loving him over and over again.
"Uh-huh." Mike doesn't elaborate again. "You're being very vague –"
"For someone else. In my dream," he finally mutters before burying his face back into Will's arm, leaving the rest of his comment muffled, though the brokenness of it can still be made out. "You broke up with me in my dream for… someone else."
Relief floods Will's chest. "Ohhhh, okay, thank God, I thought it would be like- I died in your arms, or something," he breathes out, all possibilities of Mike's horrible nightmare dispelled and replaced in his brain by a sugary endearment.
His boyfriend can be so dramatic, and Will would say that with heaps of affection, don't get it twisted. He wouldn't change it for the world. It's not rare for Mike to get a little jealous or needy or… let's just say insecure about Will with other guys. As much as his friends question whether it should bother him that Mike's a bit possessive, it's not as if he's constantly watching his every move, or urging him not to go out or interact with anyone. He'd never stoop to that level, especially not if Will told him it was getting too much. Although, deep down, it is certainly gratifying to see Mike like that after ten years of agonising over not letting his own jealousy get the better of him.
He's just protective; he has that nature. A nature Will would get drunk on every night if he could. If Mike were anyone else, some other guy Will were dating – Mike would go insane over this very hypothetical, as a matter of fact – he'd take it as a red flag and turn tail. But Mike, oh Mike, with the pathetic, little frown that he gets whenever Will so much as mentions that he likes a celebrity. The roll of his eyes when Will overplays it. The fact that he takes it seriously every time, when Will suggests that their waiter was flirting with him. The uh- who's this so-and-so? whenever Will mentions someone's name, Mike doesn't know.
It's all so exhilarating. So adorable, really. It isn't just jealousy, of course. He's not sure Mike would be so much like this if they didn't go through all that shit together when they were kids. He's not sure Mike would be so protective if it weren't for his ex-boyfriend, who… wasn't exactly the nicest guy.
(That's an understatement. But at least he's the reason Will was forced to live with Mike during the last few months of college, rekindling their friendship and… something more. Well done, Daniel.)
He trusts that if he asked, Mike would never say another jealous word. But there is no way that day will ever arrive.
It's just too fun to see how far it can go, sometimes. This is a whole new low, it seems. It's not usual for Mike to cry about it, but he chalks that up to exhaustion and the realism of nightmares.
"You didn't have to be so serious about it," Will giggles, rubbing a teasing thumb over Mike's now-rosy cheek.
"Shut up, it is serious," he whines, only making it harder to stifle another laugh, stretching Will's lips thin, his cheeks aching. "Will. I am on your chest, I can feel you laughing. Do you think breaking up with me is funny?"
"Yeah!" Will chuckles out.
Mike stares up, his eyes impossibly sad. "Y- Yeah?"
"'Cause it's so unbelievable," Will clarifies, admittedly taking some pleasure in making Mike wait. Only makes him all the more satisfying to have later on.
"It is?" His voice is hopeful.
Will nods, because obviously. "Why would I waste all those years of pining and desperation for some fucking- random guy to take me away from the love of my life, hm?" He lowers his voice, practically speaking into Mike's mouth, the low vibration of his voice likely being the reason for Mike's little shiver. "Why would I want some faceless dickhead with no name when I could have…" Will tilts Mike's chin up so he can gaze into those sorrowful eyes. "…you? You who knows all of me, all of my faults and my habits? You… who is being very, very cute, right now."
That finally makes Mike smile, just a little, his lips far too irresistible not to kiss them – so Will thanks the heavens when Mike takes the lead. He leans down, humming into his mouth, and Will happily kisses back. But it soon becomes clear that Mike is desperate for something, going at it with somehow even more vigour than Will, the jealousy and thought of losing him probably fuelling it. Wow. He loves it when this happens, when Mike's kisses and touches and hunger get a little… rougher when he's more possessive. Like he wants all of Will now, now, now, and won't let anyone else have a piece before he's all gone, licked up. He'll lick the plate clean if he could.
Will giggles when Mike slips his tongue over his lips, murmuring as the kisses noisily travel down to his jawbone, "You are so stupid, you know all I want is you. Who could –" Proving his next point, Will has to moan lightly when Mike nips at a particular spot that he knows makes him sing. "Who could kiss me like this except for you?"
Mike stops, his hand still tangled in Will's hair.
"Well – me?"
Will snorts. "Yep, that's one person," he laughs, using his hands to guide Mike back into an open-mouthed kiss. This one is far less rough as Mike slows his lips, gracing Will with a softer peck before pulling back.
He looks thoughtful, considering if something is too weird to say, Will can tell. Knowing exactly what to do in this situation, Will hums, playing it up though he knows Mike won't notice, rubbing a caring hand across Mike's bare chest. His heart speeds up under his touch as if by magic.
"What're you thinking?"
Mike shrugs.
"C'mon, you're killing me over here with –" He lowers his voice, leaning in to rub his nose against Mike's, just to – oh, you know – drive him crazy. Evidently, it does, from the way he closes his eyes, savouring. "The anticipation. Who is this guy that stole me away from you? Is he cute? I'd love to know."
Teasing, as usual. The same thing they always do, the same thing that never fails to get Mike riled up in the best way. Will wouldn't be surprised if this conversation ended in Mike flipping them around and crawling on top of him, feasting on his neck and kissing all the way down his body, counting every mole with his mouth. Saturday morning sex, very characteristic. Jealous sex, also characteristic. Fuelling it with a dream that Mike had honestly sounds even more exciting – it seems he's only getting more and more protective as the months go by.
However, what's this? Mike lets out a sigh through his nose and flops back down onto the pillow, interrupting them before Will can start ravishing him. His immediate reaction is to say What the hell, Mike? but when he takes another glance at his boyfriend, he finds his eyebrows crinkled in that sad, little way of his. Weird.
"What's up, Mike." Not much of a question, just a statement.
Folding his arms, Mike turns his face to the side, rubbing into the pillow and closing his eyes as if he can turn away from the world. He sighs, then turns back again, fixing Will with an earnest stare.
"It's so embarrassing, honestly, you're just going to laugh at me."
Will rolls his eyes. He can't lie to Mike – "Of course I'm going to laugh," he starts, making Mike lift a hand as if to say see? before Will hooks a leg around his and interlinks both hands over Mike's shoulder, resting his chin on them. "But that's 'cause we always laugh at this stuff." He pecks his temple a couple of times to sweeten him up. "You don't need to worry about me judging you. Just like how I never worry about you judging me. It's not real anyway, m'kay? I won't be mad if that's what you're worried about."
A few seconds pass, and Mike snorts a laugh, indicating that it's okay to move forward.
"Is it someone we know personally?" Will asks, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
Mike picks at his nails, making Will stare down at them pointedly until he stops. "…Yes. You could say… personally."
Ooh, interesting. Attention piqued, Will sits up a bit, lifting his head so he can properly discern Mike's amusing blush. He doesn't want to think about Mike's tearful expression from earlier, but he keeps it in mind as he asks cautiously, "Is it… one of our friends? From college or… like- from home?"
Mike scrunches his nose up and quickly shakes his head, curls shaking along with it, leaving them falling over his forehead. Will takes this opportunity to weave his fingers through his bangs and scratch. This has a high chance of loosening him up.
"God, uh- was it… Daniel?" Although saying his name isn't as hard these days, Will still quietens his voice in case it's suddenly back to being a serious subject.
Immediately, Mike turns and engages in eye contact, making Will realise how close they are. "No fucking way, he doesn't get to be in my dreams. I would be smiling right now because I would have literally murdered him."
Will laughs and pats Mike's shoulder in both a calm down and a that's good gesture. This is more the Mike he knows. Honestly, that's a relief, too. Will wouldn't know what to think if Mike were this upset about losing Will to his ex-boyfriend in his dreams, as if that would ever be a realistic scenario. They've paid a couple of lesbian witches to curse that motherfucker, and Will's pretty sure that's a sure sign you're not going to date someone.
"Okay… is it…"
"Will," he sighs, "you're literally never gonna get it, okay? Stop trying to guess–"
"Well, I want you to tell me somehow! I'll get to the bottom of this," Will replies, poking a finger into Mike's forehead, who looks up at it, making him cross his eyes accidentally, and Will's chest squeezes.
"If it takes us allllll day. I am going to find out who has the ability to steal me away from you. And who got you this jealous." Rubbing up and down the top of Mike's arm, he senses his boyfriend trying not to loosen up. It's failing. "God, never seen you so jealous, especially not of some guy you only dreamt about me breaking up with you over." He grins at Mike when he looks over, unimpressed but smiling back all the same. Up this close, Will can't help but take in the spattering of freckles on his nose and press a kiss to the tip of it, a not-so-subtle persuasion tactic.
It works. Yes, Mike hasn't said anything yet, but Will feels him relax in his grip as he travels his hand to his waist and moves their bodies closer so their warmth is shared. (Will regrets wearing a t-shirt to bed.) He hardly has time to predict who Mike's going to reveal as the secret mystery man – to be honest, Will has played up how much he cares about the identity of this guy. He just wants Mike to be comfortable with him, so they can go back to lazily making out under blankets, fooling around for a bit, before they inevitably roll out of bed past noon and make each other coffee and a tuna melt.
But even if he had time to ruminate, Will doesn't think he'd ever expect Mike to sigh, groan, and then say: "It was… Mike the Brave."
A beat. "What?"
Mike groans and hides his face, pulling away from Will to bury his head in the pillow beneath him, leaving Will hug-less. There's nothing else to do but laugh, though it's more half-amusement at his boyfriend being dramatic again, and half-utter confusion.
"Mike – what the – I'm confused, babe, come on –" Will tries pushing at Mike's shoulder, but the guy is resolutely buried, probably beet red.
"Mmph, you know what I mean," Mike mumbles. It's muffled, but Will manages to make it out, beneath all the layers of hair and this resurfaced emotional repression. Once again, a glimmer of a young Mike Wheeler, back in the days of playing in the basement and going on trips to Lovers' Lake as best friends, is spotted. "I mean Mike the Brave."
Will tries to think harder, only now realising that he'd sat up on the bed, cross-legged and ready, his hand placed gently on Mike's rising-and-falling back.
"Your D&D character from when we were kids?" Will asks, tilting his head.
Mike the Brave was an important character to his boyfriend for quite a while, the most famous of all of Mike's D&D originals he's conjured up. Maybe not the most creatively named or the most interesting – being that he was basically just Mike but with… armour, longer hair, a few scars, maybe more muscles, and a little extra height on him – but Will has a soft spot for him. He is, after all, the first character the pair came up with, beginning a long line of characters that they created in tandem, purposefully complementing each others' in any way possible. He was the one that Mike created his DM voice for, the one that used to save Will the Wise from monsters, the one that would make oaths on his knee, even though that was technically Mike in real life with a red sweater around his neck instead of a cape.
Mike's current character is Will's personal favourite – might be recency bias – but out of all of Mike's characters, he thinks Mike the Brave would be his choice for Mike to have dreamt about in this way. In technical terms, he was how Will learned to shade, he was how Will learned to draw eyes and hands and armour. Most of that was obviously Mike, though. Not Mike the Brave.
"Yes," Mike grunts, kicking out one leg weakly as if in protest.
Will hums a little, then thinks back to earlier this morning. How upset Mike had been, how he'd never seen his boyfriend that jealous. He'd been expecting someone they know, someone that may actually have potential to genuinely hurt them, not literally Mike himself.
"Okay… well, what's the big deal? Mike the Brave was lovely, he literally y –"
In a flash, Mike is suddenly on his side again, gripping Will with a desperate look, urging him to listen. "No, Will. You don't understand, he just fucking appeared in the middle of our living room – I, I think, I don't really remember the specifics – but then he took your hand and looked at me like I was some dirt on the bottom of his shoe, and then he said…" He trails off, looking away and blinking.
Will's about to open his mouth to ask what he was about to say, but then gets another idea. "Well, he technically is you, so I'd be kind of offended if he wasn't in love with me." An easy smile is pointed Mike's way.
He can see him break for a moment, a tiny grin cracking across his soft, still-tired features, before he remembers himself and clears his throat. "Well – he, he was just very irritating about it."
"Mike…" Will starts, making his boyfriend nod rapidly, his energetic energy radiating off him in spiky waves. "You do realise you're being irritated by yourself, right? Like, you're jealous of yourself. C'mon this is kinda funny. Literally only you would do something like this."
Blowing out a breath, Mike tries to contend with that, but his shoulders still look extremely stiff, as if they require a massage. Taking this opportunity in his stride, Will reaches out a hand to rub at the hardened muscle between Mike's neck and his shoulder blade, pushing his thumb in and loosening the knots. That's sure to get the truth out of him, right? Surely, if this – at face value – was simply Mike dreaming about himself taking Will away from him, then they'd be laughing about it by now and talking about how… honestly hot it sounds to be kissed and loved by two clones of the same people. Maybe even kissing about it too. But they're not.
So this isn't face-value. "Michael…" Will warns. Mike opens his eyes again from where they'd closed in bliss at the ministrations on his shoulder. He looks at Will with a wariness that can only be achieved by calling him that.
"Yeah?"
His soft tone tugs at Will's heartstrings. "You… you were crying when you woke up. Is that… just because I broke up with you in your dream, or – or did I say something upsetting?" He won't say is there something deeper to this? Something that hasn't been healed ever since they threw Mike the Brave in the box of old childhood memories?
"No, no, you were perfect," Mike sighs. Of course, even in the context of a dream-reality where Will breaks up with him, he still defends him. "So perfect. And – well, I know I was annoyed by him, but like… he was – he was too. That's the thing."
"Wait, what?" First, he was calling his counterpart irritating, and now he's calling him perfect? "Why are you saying 'he'? If he's perfect, then… then you are too, right? Is that not how it works?"
"Not really," Mike chuckles weakly. He still shakes his head, moving so his temple rests against Will's knee, large hand coming up to rest on his leg. "I… I guess it just hurt seeing you with me, which is stupid, I know. It's just… You say I'm everything you want." Will nods fervently – what could Mike possibly say to contradict this?
He lowers his voice to a whisper, his eyes still casting forward. Will can't see his expression with Mike's head in his lap, but he has a feeling it's bordering on pained from the sound of his tone: "But what about a better version of me?"
Will stops his massaging, suddenly overcome with an urge to see Mike's face, all of him, in his entirety. At once, the flood of realisations pours in. Perhaps this whole… jealousy thing has never been this light-hearted all these years. While Mike is confident that Will would never go for anyone but him, it's only because the better version of Mike doesn't exist, right? He must know how much more complicated it is than that. Even so, this is still the best version of Mike, and Will knows it without question. He would never hold him to that sort of standard.
"Hey, what?" Will asks softly, pushing at Mike's shoulder to get him to look up at him. He's reluctant. He must be getting emotional or something. "What do you mean? Okay, I know what I said, but Mike the Brave is a D&D character, he isn't really you."
"Yeah. I know, but I –" He sighs, finally turning so his head rests in Will's lap, staring up at him, something in his eyes that makes Will rub a hand over his jaw. "I literally made him to be me. And… I guess it just upset me. To see you with a me who I could never – never live up to."
"God," Will whispers, looking down and studying the beauty forever captured in Mike's gaze, even as those eyes become teary. Even as his face scrunches up a little. "Mike, you don't have to live up to anyone to be mine. I'm all yours. Okay? And what I say goes." Will lets himself smile fondly.
"I know that. Which is why doing our little… jealousy thing is really fun… but," Mike mumbles. Oh, so they're being really honest, now? "But with this it's totally different. You deserve Mike the Brave, but he doesn't exist. He doesn't exist, so you have to settle for the real Mike."
"And what does Mike the Brave have that you don't? Armour or something?" Will asks, as tenderly as he can, hearing Mike's voice go from a whisper to a raspy, thin string.
"Well, he's got all the things you love about me, 'n stuff…" Will nods along, gently stroking his thumb over Mike's temple, feeling the soft, downy hairs. "But then he doesn't come with all that stupid – stupid crap. He's not an asshole, he knows exactly what to say, all the time. He doesn't fear things. He's not afraid of anything. In my mind, he never hurt you, never made you feel like shit for one second, Will. He has like – no baggage at all, he's just me but without all the… parts that make you feel bad. If that makes sense?"
Oh. Will's chest caves in. A distinct stinging behind his eyes starts bothering him, and he suddenly understands all too well why Mike had been crying when he'd woken up. He opens his mouth and whispers, "Oh. Oh, Mike."
"He would never wake you up in the early morning and talk to you about this bullshit, that's for sure."
Letting out a small chuckle, Will smooths his hand over Mike's hair, appreciating every sensation it leaves on his palm. This is the real Mike. The boy who slept by his bedside, who didn't give up on D&D after Will whined about it all summer, who made mistakes but then took it upon himself to make it everyone's business that Will would not be ignored after all that. And he never took credit. He's the one who would rather jump into a burning building than hurt him on purpose (something Mike told him in the beginning of their relationship – Mike doesn't go into things slowly). What is he talking about?
"I can't believe this," Will whispers, shaking his head. "Did – I'm sorry I made you feel this way –"
"Holy shit, no, no, you – you did not make me feel this way, Will. If anything, you're the only reason I haven't freaked out about it until now, alright?" Mike quickly pours out, his eyes wide and urging, hand coming up to rest on Will's arm to prove his point. As always, Will lets a breath out, relaxing his shoulders. Okay, good.
"I just…" Mike starts, licking his lips and blinking a couple of times. His voice is tight, like it's about to snap under pressure. "That's what you deserve. Someone who isn't afraid of anything, especially not people who… might judge you two for who you are. If that makes sense? Like, in my mind, the place where Mike the Brave comes from has no one who – who'd tell us we were wrong. And h- he'd never – he'd never for once second think it either. He'd never hurt you. He'd never stay fucking silent. I try to –" His face burns redder and redder, filling up like a metre about to burst.
"I try to do all that now, but – but it's not enough. Because Mike the Brave would have never done that to you in the past, ever, ever, ever –"
That's when Mike finally breaks down, his face crumpling, eyes squeezing shut before he starts sobbing in quiet shakes. Immediately, Will moves to take him into his arms, laying them down on the bed with Mike's face burrowed in his shoulder. He knows he often refuses this sort of position – being in Will's arms instead of the other way around – but there is no chance he's going to let Mike talk him out of this now. Their arms tightly wrap around each other's anyway, Mike's fists clutching at Will's t-shirt like he won't think about protesting, Will's palms stroking against the warm skin of Mike's back.
Mike always shakes when he cries. Will has noticed that he also always sniffles in a way where he does two in succession. Just things he's registered ever since Mike started letting himself cry in front of him.
"It's okay," he whispers. This is far more than just a Mike the Brave thing. Way more. Will's not sure when he realised, maybe some time around Mike saying that his ideal self would come from somewhere without hate. Somewhere that would have never broken him, broken them. "I'm here, Mike, shh. It's alright."
This seems to only make Mike cry more, which is good. Letting it out is key, Will thinks, even though his chest aches with every sob and hiccup, urging him to make it stop. But he thinks he's doing pretty well –
Up until Mike says, "I'm so stupid."
Stupid. Will shakes his head, letting a tear escape and roll down his nose. He knows Mike will hate to see him like this, probably only fuelling the fire, but he leans back and takes his boyfriend's face in his hands, touch warm and smooth. They're close, sharing air – Mike breathing faster. Not alarmingly fast, though, thankfully.
"I love you." Will wants to say it louder, scream it from the balcony onto the unsuspecting Manhattan goers below, but this is enough – simply whispering it between them like a promise is enough. "I love you more than any other version of you, okay? I am here, I am made for you."
"But I don't want you to just accept that, Will. Sometimes I just don't want you to say everything's okay, when – when –"
"But everything is," he urges, opening his eyes and looking up at Mike's, the tears coating his lashes. On a whim, he leans forward and presses his mouth to Mike's, making them both gasp wetly into it. He can tell Mike is nervous when he runs a shaky hand down the back of Will's head, resting on his neck. His sensitive spot.
Upon pulling away, Will grins. All of this, everything Mike does, is proof: "I'm the happiest I could possibly be, Mike. Seriously. If I were with some one-dimensional, perfect knight character – "
"Paladin."
"Paladin," Will corrects, making them both let out breathy, hiccup-y snorts and laughs before returning. "If I were with him then… I mean, I wouldn't feel so much every day. I wouldn't feel so at home. He would not feel like home to me, he would only remind me of the real thing. Could never be, though. You know no one else could ever be home."
Mike swallows, and sniffles, shaking himself off, reluctant to nod, but at least he does. At least he does. "Mm – but what about all my weird bullshit like this?" He asks, laughing slightly, and making Will match him in it.
He has to admit – yes, this is crazy. Crying over a hypothetical. But surely Mike must know that it means far more than that, right? After all this? He surely must realise that all the events that led to them lying in this bedroom, this cluttered mess they call their apartment, right here, right now – he wouldn't change one second of it? Will should call himself crazy too, he guesses, to want all of that. But he won't call himself an idiot, not stupid, for coming home to Mike after years spent apart. When it comes to Mike, he's read the fine print. He knows how high the stakes are for the two of them. But he won't be called an idiot for wanting it.
"This is pretty insane, yes, but –" Will laughs and leans back, letting Mike see his entire expression, the devotion. "I mean… sure, maybe people out there who think they know us might want an easier relationship for me. Some nice artsy guy from college, or someone whose parents accept him immediately. A guy who's never fought with me. Never teased me. Who thinks I'm breakable and sensitive. Someone with no baggage."
Mike nods, gaze unwavering.
"Someone who could never comprehend me. Who would never confuse me, who wouldn't have the capacity to create a whole damn scenario in his head where the quote-unquote better version of himself is a D&D character who whisks me away, and we both cry about it –" Mike laughs, turning away with a red face.
"God." Will looks up at the ceiling, grinning to himself. "I would probably die of boredom within a month."
At the absurdity, they both chuckle, Mike's mouth agape like he'd never expected that. Will nods, though, pressing a kiss to his love's cheek, giggling, "I'd tear my hair out, Mike, how could you let him take me from you!"
"Ahh, I have no idea, who could ever resist you, though, my liege –"
"Don't you start speaking as he would, I told you I'd die of boredom," Will laughs, pushing at Mike until they're both toppling back onto the bed like a house of cards, landing and making the shitty mattress emit a loud squeak, which only exacerbates their laughter. Mike holds a hand to his eyes, letting himself chuckle out loud, music to Will's ears as he crawls up his body and holds himself over the man he's loved since he lost his first tooth.
He studies him, the tear tracks on his eyes, the mop of hair, his eyelashes, freckles melding together as he blushes. Realising what position they're in, Mike's smile widens so much that the only way he can widen it more is to scrunch his nose slightly. That's Will's favourite thing to do to him, he thinks.
"Yeah," Mike says out loud to himself, making Will tilt his head. "Yeah, there's nothing more I could want right now either."
Will promptly leans down, and his arms give way, making him land on Mike's lips clumsily, but it's exactly the type of thing he's talking about. So he revels in the mess, even as it smooths out into a softer kiss, once Mike lifts a hand to the back of his head again, tugging lightly at his short hairs to say thank you. Will hums in response to Mike's breathy groan. Licks at his mouth in response to a small bite at his bottom lip.
"Mm – so –" Mike starts to speak, letting Will lean up, still lying across his body. "So you'd never… want me to play as Mike the Brave in a campaign then? Not even a one-shot?"
Will pretends to think about it. "Hmm… well, even though I much, much," he leans down to smack a loud kiss on his lover's lips to emphasise, "much prefer the real flavour, I wouldn't mind. Wouldn't mind hearing that talk in the bedroom, either."
Mike raises his eyebrows, his mouth parting happily. "Oh so you were lying when you said he would bore you?" His tone is clearly jokey, but Will is honestly relieved he can already tease him about this. He has so many ideas.
"'M not lying, just maybe exaggerating a bit. It's kinda – It's silly, but I… may or may not really…" he puts on a posher accent, "love how foolish I am for choosing such a ridiculous paladin as my mate."
"'Mate'? Ugh, Will," Mike giggles, scrunching his nose and pushing at his face.
"Hey, you said my liege just now!"
"Right, that's definitely not the same thing." Even though it's a retort, Will notices the affection dripping from Mike's words, betrayed by the look in his eyes as he rakes his gaze over the form lying on top of him. Betrayed by the hands coming to grab and squeeze at Will's hips – and somewhere lower.
"Sorry I'm so out of practice, gosh," Will breathes as he leans back in, pressing kiss after kiss on the sides of Mike's mouth, teasingly refusing to go at the centre, hoping that Mike takes this obvious suggestion.
"Guess I'll just have to teach you," Mike replies, and Will's brain does a little yessssss, especially when a hand snakes up his side. Another kiss is clicked on his lips, sweet and a little slick with spit. Mike mumbles against him, rubbing his nose, tantalising enough to make Will purr. "And you can teach me more about how to be brave enough to role-play, I guess."
Will's voice is low, "Oh come on, you're the one who's called Mike the Brave."
Mike sighs happily, blinking up at him with a starry-eyed gaze that Will wishes he could capture in a painting right this very second.
"Yeah but…" he says, smiling wide. Things like this make Will understand why his mom always says that Mike looks like he hung the moon for him. Make him want to do it all over again, all the hardship, all the stupidity, just to relive the satisfaction of this very moment, this mundane morning that might be forgotten, save for any even better memories.
"The only reason I am that way is 'cause of you…"
Holy shit. Will might explode, even though Mike is clearly not finished, his mouth quirked up in a tease to spite the magnificence of his words. Does he not realise his impact? Will's chest might literally explode if he doesn't get to throw Mike on top of him and let him kiss him stupid and breathless and speechless right the fuck now –
"…Sorcerer."
Will's eyes hurt from how deeply he rolls them. "Oh my God, I knew you wouldn't be able to resist!"