icedoatmealcookie
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“You’re thinking,” Will says, skating a finger down the line of Mike’s nose, under his eye, over his cheekbone, then resting, finally, just at the corner of his lips– “about me.”
Oh, Jesus. Mike’s throat is very, very dry. “What?”
Will opens his eyes – slow, a little hesitant – and smiles. “You are,” he says, way, way too smug for Mike’s liking. “You’re turning red!”
“Shut up,” Mike mutters, and Will’s smile grows. “You– I’m just nervous!”
It should be illegal for someone to look this pleased with themselves. “Yeah?” Will says quietly, index finger still hovering at the corner of Mike’s mouth, thumb pressed gently under his chin. “I make you nervous?”
Mike thinks Will might be psychic. (Kind of.) Will is being very irritatingly vague about the whole thing.
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Bookmarked by icedoatmealcookie
11 Jan 2026