Work Text:
– ! ꩜ ⋆˚࿔ gentle persuasion
“You’ve gotten a lot better at this, Will.” Holly murmurs, eyes focused on the small mirror in front of her.
She tips her head a little, to see more of her blonde locks, but Will mutters something under his breath and gently tugs her back.
“It’s been a few months, Holls,” Will says, flashing her a look through the mirror. He offers a light smile, before focusing back on her hair, tying it into a braid.
He’s been doing this for the past few months, stepping over to the Wheeler’s house, braiding Holly’s hair and baking with her–occasionally Mike, too. Ever since she disappeared, and going on a whole mission to disconnect her and Will from Henry, Will has formed a bond.
A bond, in which he already had with her brother, (albeit, a little different) Mike. So there’s some attachment there in a way.
Will pulls on another strand of hair gently, slipping it between his fingers and twisting it. Just West of them is Karen, cooking up something with cinnamon laced between dough, humming a tune under her breath. The radio plays at the side of her, something by The Human League.
It feels oddly domestic, being here more than his own home with his mom, cooking up new dishes he’s never tried in his life and braiding Holly’s hair until he’s finally good at it. He’s almost there, if not for the two or three strands that he misses.
He likes braiding her hair–or doing literally anything with her–which, unsurprisingly, at first was another way to get closer to Mike for the first few weeks because they’re boyfriends now. Selfishly, he wanted to take up more of his time.
He can’t be blamed. He’s waited years.
After a while, he realised he liked the company of his little sister. It’s refreshing, because Will has never had a little sister nor a little brother to take care of. Some part of him finds it sweeter to be the one dishing out advice, which is far too obvious from how much he gives it over to Mike, than being the one receiving it.
“I know that,” She huffs but there’s no malice in it. “I just mean…I’m giving you a compliment, Byers. Just take it.” Her lips push into a soft pout that Will holds a laugh back at.
He looks up through the mirror, nodding a little at her. “Sorry, Holly,” He says, tying off her hair with a purple hair tie.
He’d bought a whole two packs last week, and Holly has already lost most of them. She says it’s the dolls fault, with how easy the ties slip off their hair, but Will doesn’t quite believe her.
“Thank you,” She chirps, turning around with a wide smile. “I know you only come here for Michael,” Her lips pull into a small grimace. Will’s smile tugs. “But I like spending time with you!”
Will shakes his head, settling onto one of the dining table chairs, eyes flickering back to her. Will isn’t only here for Mike–Will doesn’t even know where he is, he disappeared ten minutes ago with a mutter–he’s also here for Holly.
At Will’s momentary silence, Holly’s frown comes warping onto her lips, fingers threading together nervously. Will shakes his head quickly.
“No, no. I’m here for you too, Holly,” Will reminds her, because he’s said it at least a few times. “Mostly, actually. Your brother stinks.”
“Hey,” A familiar voice calls out–familiar in the way that Will’s insides still twist and turn at–and Will cocks his head to the side.
Mike is in the doorway, head tilted and hip rested against the doorframe. His arm, too, bent at the elbow and hanging just above his hair.
“I heard that, y’know.”
Will can’t help but smile–because oh my god, that’s his boyfriend, standing there and wearing blue as per usual. Will has missed the blue, because he went for a whole goth look to match Eddie–which he still loved equally as much–but either way, Mike had always looked good in blue.
He went back to it a few months ago, after the whole style switch–and stealing Will’s clothes, and Will stealing his–and he’s never been happier.
He’s wearing one of Will’s sweaters now, one of the many ones he was actually able to get from the house in California, and it hangs a little lower than the others. Not by much, but some.
“I know,” Will nods as he walks over, hands on Holly’s chair, leaning down. He doesn’t get any shorter. “That was the whole point. I knew you were here.”
“Oh, really?”
“Stop,” Holly grimaces, hands waving dismissively. There’s amusement dancing on her features. “I don’t want to watch you weirdos–what did Dustin call it? What did he say–Flirt! I don’t want to watch you two do that. Eugh.”
Mike’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, freckles more apparent. “We’re not flirting. That’s not–”
“Shh,” She says, tilting her body around slightly to look at her brother. “I know what it is now. Dustin told me all about it.”
Then, glancing to the side as her lips smush together, “And then told me all the times you guys did it as kids–”
Mike looks down at her, a quick hush. “Dustin is stupid. You shouldn’t listen to him.”
Will blinks between them, shuffling the last few purple hair ties back into the small heart container. He bought it with Mike for Holly a few months ago, when the two finally found her–tucked into a small cave, almost as malnourished as Will was in 1983.
Will felt terrible–and far too reminded–so he showered her with a couple of gifts and shopping sprees, which Will has never, ever done until now, so that was tricky.
Mike suggested a few gifts, though. He’s oddly good at it all.
He can’t remember half of the stuff he’s bought her, but it’s something like: Dolls, nail polish (a whole box or two of them) , more dolls, a lot more, and some random antiques.
The heart is a little chipped at the side, and Holly or Karen has painted on some purple and pink nail polish to cover it up. Will smiles and looks back up to them after placing the lid on.
“Will,” Holly pulls, a little groaned as she twists her body back to face him. Her lips are pulled into a soft grimace. “Can we watch movies? Mike is boring me.”
“Holly, I’m not even–”
“Yes,” Will nods, smiling wide. “C’mon, let’s watch movies.” Holly is already jumping up from her chair and rushing forward–diving over the couch, and not walking around.
Will stands up with a soft intake of breath, stretching his arms a little. Mike slides beside him, fingers grazing where his sleeve ends.
“You do realise you’ve stolen my sister, right? She’s like–it’s like you’re her new dad!”
Will flashes Mike–who’s way too close to his face–a glance, brows lifted and smile a little lopsided. “What?”
“Seriously,” He lets out an exaggerated sigh, turning more to Will, arms coming to wrap lazily around his waist.
Will softens into the touch and wraps his arms around the back of Mike’s neck, smiling up to him.
“You buy her sooo much stuff. Where are my gifts?”
“I handpaint yours. Don’t be greedy, Michael.”
Mike’s lips part, mouth forming an O shape, but a smile crumbles through and ruins the mock offence. “Greedy? You’re kidding me, right? I mean, I love–” His eyes widen, a slow nod, “–love. Your hand painted gifts, don’t get me wrong–”
“But you’re complaining? Uh huh. Right, I see how it is,” Will’s hands strip away from him slowly, and Mike is shaking his head.
“No, no. I take back what I said, stop,” Mike whines, fingers curling around his wrists, trying to pin Will’s arms back around him.
Will caves with a stupid grin and softens back into the original position. Mike, impatient as ever these days, pulls the boy in a little more, standing flush together.
Mike’s lips curl back up, swaying them a little. “Sooo, when’s my next painting?”
“Mike,” Will breathes, hands slipping down to the collar of his shirt, fingers nesting there.
“What?” Mike squeaks, biting on his bottom lip to try to shove his grin away. It only widens. “Listen, the swing-set one was cute, but that was a whole month ago. So, cmon, when’s the next?”
“You’re actually greedy,” Will nods, eyes fluttering to Mike’s mouth. At that, Mike stifles a little laugh, pushing his lips together. “Be patient.”
“Fine.” He whispers. Will’s fingers take home on the back of Mike’s neck, tugging him in gently.
And Will would’ve loved to taste what chapstick Mike is wearing today, but:
“Guys, seriously?” Their heads whip around to see Holly, kneeled up and head poking out from over the couch, frown evident. “Movies! Movies, I repeat.”
– ! ꩜ ⋆˚࿔ Whenever I’m alone with you,
THURSDAY, 10:56AM.
“Holly! Jesus, are you stupid–?” Mike groans, quickly trying to swipe the hot pink paint from his cheek.
A grin warps onto Will’s lips, snorting as he lifts his head, catching Holly in the act–or rather, swiping the paint from her fingers and onto an already dirty (with orange and green paint, now pink) cloth.
“Will, he’s arguing again!” Holly pouts, turning to him. Her cheeks flush a little, knowing full well Will’s caught her with paint on her fingers.
Her voice quietens, shifting on the floor. “Well, he’s–he’s…”
“Michael,” Will sighs loudly, gaze moving over to Mike. Mike, in response, raises his brows and sits upright. Sort of. “Apologise to your sister.”
He gestures vaguely to a grinning Holly, who sticks her tongue out at Mike whenever Will looks away. “Look, you’ve hurt her feelings.”
“What, I didn’t even–”
“Mike.”
“You know you wanna listen to your super cool boyfriend.” She wiggles her brows knowingly, pointing a finger at Will.
Mike looks between them for a few silent seconds, brows creasing in the middle. He crosses his arms. “I don’t appreciate this ganging up on me thing. Holly, you’re so–and Will! You’re supposed to agree with me, what happened to that?”
“Sorry,” Will shrugs, shaking his head slowly. He shoves his paintbrush behind his ear–probably getting a mass amount of baby blue in his hair–then shrugs.
He leans over to Mike, swiping the mess on his cheek with a slow finger, smile curving knowingly. Blinking down at the paint on his index and middle finger, he finally continues, “Your little sister is cooler than you.”
“Wha…” Mike’s cheeks flush, lips pushing closed. “Yep. You’re right. Whatever you say.”
“He is whipped.” Holly is nodding, eyes flickering to Will as if her brother isn’t right there, listening to every bubbled word she spews.
They come out loud and unbashful, like glitter flying everywhere.
“You seriously need to stop talking to Dustin. I’m taking away your Walkman.”
Will shakes his head at them, grabbing the cloth to wipe his hands. He puts it down and turns back to his painting; which is something they do on Thursdays and Fridays.
Mike and Will set up a small schedule for them to do for a few weeks–which honestly, a little sad that they only hang out with a ten year old–but it’s something they decided on either way.
Mondays consist of hot cocoa, if it’s cold enough for that, and movies. If it’s summer, Will goes out to buy ice pops and ice cream for them to share.
Wednesdays are filled with baking all day, and maybe a movie if they have time, or if Will sleeps over. Sometimes, which is more for Mike, he’ll sleep on the weekend and take up all the room on his bed by star-fishing it.
They’ve not set anything up for the weekends yet, but that’s mostly because Will and him go on dates, which is never actually really out, and more in Mike’s cramped basement or bedroom.
Will doesn’t mind it, though. If anything, sliding under several blankets and cracking open an already-read comic with his boyfriend is the best thing.
It’s definitely better than a restaurant. Mike and Will are too much of picky eaters to skim through an over-priced menu.
“Hey,” Mike nudges his boyfriend's arm, face close to the side of Will’s. His knee is up, arm resting on it. “I got you a little something.”
“For what?” Will questions, quiet.
He hums for a little moment before ultimately shaking his head. “Just because. Here, take it.”
Will’s eyes flutter to Mike’s hand, the one that’s rested on his knee, blinking over a little mixtape. He huffs a quiet chuckle, gently plucking it out of his fingers.
On the back is writing, tape peeling off and worn-down like it’s old, and not something new. Will flashes a curious glance to Mike, who smiles a little wider in return.
He shifts, too, like he’s nervous.
The writing on the back reads: Late Night Finds. (W) Love, Mike.
“How old is this?” He asks, sliding the mixtape carefully into his back pocket, then settling back on the floor properly.
Mike shrugs again, eyes stuck on the paints. “You know, just…a couple of months.” He blinks to Will, whose eyes are narrow. “Okay. Years. It’s from before you moved away.”
Will cracks a wide grin, hand sliding to Mike’s arm. “You were thinking about me then?”
“Just–take the gift,” He groans, a wide smile erupting onto his lips as his head tilts away from Will. Will can’t help but laugh. “Jesus.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“Will. How is mine?” Holly holds up her painting, smudging some of the blue paint on the sides that make up for a sky.
His eyes skim over it. She’s improved immensely over the past four months. The painting is of them three, out on a beach–which they’ve never actually done, but Holly really wants to go to a beach apparently–under the shining sun.
Mike and him are holding hands. Will’s smile tugs a little sheepish, blush flushing onto his cheeks like they’ve been painted over too.
Mike is wearing blue, Will is wearing yellow. Holly wears pink, and she’s carefully lined the purple stitching onto her shirt.
“It’s really good, Holly. You’ve improved a lot.”
“Do you like my little tweak? You and Mike are–”
“Holding hands. Yep. We get it, Holly.” Mike nods, lips shoving together in an awkward line. His cheeks are as flushed as Will’s.
Almost the same colour as the red in the pallet on the floor.
Will snickers. “It’s really cute, thank you, Holly.”
“I also added Mike’s awful man bun, thing. Do you see? Wait–” Holly drops her painting, grabbing Mike by the shoulders and shuffling him.
Mike makes an inarticulate noise, glaring at Holly’s blue painted fingers grasping onto his pink and purple sweater. “Holly–!”
“Look! He’s wearing one now. It’s awful.”
“Okay, it’s not even that bad. Will likes it.”
– ! ꩜ ⋆˚࿔ if you get the blues, baby blues
FRIDAY, 12:20AM.
Will shuffles onto his side, matching Mike’s position, who is smiling back at him with a wide smile, orange casted across his skin from the night light he bought the other day.
He ended up buying it for Will, because he–even after all of these years–still can’t sleep without a lamp on. Or, he can, but he’ll wake up smacking Mike in the face and hyperventilating.
Will nudges his side, lips pushing together. “Mike, stay still. If you keep moving, you’ll–have a nose like pinocchio, or something.”
Mike shifts again, only to gape at him. “Pinocchio!? Are you kidding?”
Will snickers, shoving his sketchbook aside for the moment. He hasn’t done much in it, because Mike has switched positions at least six times in the span of thirty minutes.
He nudges Mike. “Shhh. Shut up, you’ll wake Holly up.”
“Sorry,” Mike pulls, a light grin cracking on his lips. He inches his hands over to Will, pulling him in close.
Will shifts awkwardly over the pen and sketchbook, fingers intertwining together.
“But Pinocchio, really?”
“I’m just saying,” Will mutters, brows raising as he looks away.
Mike’s thumb runs carefully over the back of his palm, fingers lazily locked together in a cluttered mess. Will’s stomach twists and turns, filling with such intense butterflies.
He’s not entirely sure why either, because they’ve been like this for months now. Mike constantly locks their fingers together, or pulls him onto his lap and somehow ends up tickling him, but Will never really gets used to it.
“You keep moving. Like, you’ve moved–at least four times since I picked up the book.”
“It’s not my fault you started drawing when I was already in that position for an hour. My arms hurt.”
“Not my fault you looked pretty, either.” Will tilts his head, eyes flickering back to Mike.
Mike’s lips tug at the ends, and he has to look away and roll his eyes, skin burning. “Shut up. Don’t.”
“Oh? Pretty?” Mike pulls his words, smile so obnoxious and wide Will’s certain he’ll get permanent smile lines.
He pulls Will over a little more, and Will shifts to comfortably straddle his lap. “You think I’m pretty?”
“You always do this,” Will groans, hands twisting at the hem of his shirt, eyeing that because looking at Mike while he has a shit-eating grin on his face is too much work. “I give you one compliment.”
“Yeah, but, can you blame me?” Mike whispers, digging his fingers into Will’s waist. He offers a short shrug. “This is new. I mean, imagine little Byers calling me pretty.”
He shakes his head, smile turning bashful. “I would’ve collapsed, actually.”
“Probably,” Will groans, eyes lifting. “I’m still blaming you. And that’s the last compliment I’m ever giving you.”
“As if,” Mike scoffs. Will’s smile widens, cracking into something similar to Mike’s. “You’re too into the way–” His fingers lift from the boy's waist, quote signs. “–my cheeks supposedly redden.”
“You know they do,” Will grumbles, sliding off his lap. Mike makes a small reluctant noise, brows furrowing.
He shifts carefully, shoving the sketchbook more out of the way, and sliding to lay down beside Mike. The darker haired boy turns to him, both of them lay on their sides.
Will smiles a little, tracing his fingertips over Mike’s scar, just near his wrist. He got it sometime when they were helping defeat Vecna. “I was thinking…”
“Mmm?”
“I sleep this weekend,” He starts, watching Mike’s low-lidded, tired eyes flutter between his. Then all across his face, but he doesn’t think about that part. “We can bake, or something. Maybe brownies.”
Mike snorts, his hand sliding to Will’s hair, brushing it back carefully. “Stop searching for an excuse. Just sleep.”
Then, a little lean closer, he adds, “My mom is constantly asking anyway.”
Will rolls his eyes with a little huff, hand sliding up to Mike’s cheek, pulling him in a little closer. Will leans in too, “I’m not making excuses. Baking is on the table, too.”
“Mm-mm.” Mike hums tiredly, nodding his head along. “Kiss.”
A shy smile warps onto Will’s lips, eyes fluttering to Mike’s mouth that’s already pushed into a little waiting pout.
And he does lean in, too, because sitting this close to his best friend and boyfriend makes him crave a lot more.
Their lips graze, and he pauses, pulling back just a few seconds after. Mike, obviously, whines his way through an inarticulate sentence.
“Mike, shh–shut up,” He whispers, “Did you hear that?”
“No? You’re crazy,” Mike mumbles back, tugging Will’s shirt to bring him closer. “C’mon.”
Will’s lips tug, shaking his head before abruptly pulling himself up, ignoring Mike’s soft protests. When he rushes for the door, Mike shakes himself out of the tiredness and follows along.
“Will, what?”
“I heard Holly,” He murmurs, carefully walking down the hallway–because he does not need to wake up Karen or Ted at the moment.
Will had done that once when he ventured into the kitchen for a snack with Mike. And obvious truth be told, Ted is not the nicest person when he sees two panting, flushed boys making out on his counter.
Mike follows behind him, watching the smaller boy gently turn the knob of Holly’s door. His eyes flicker over the sign he made for her, pink painted wood that Holly insisted on having, and purple checks around her name.
Her name is scribbled in purple too.
Will painted her Dungeons and Dragons character on there, because Mike hasn’t had enough tutorials from him to draw like that yet. Still, he’s pretty close.
Will creaks the door open, eyes flickering around the dark room. Someone–most likely Holly–sniffles from inside.
“Mike. Why is her night light off?” Will mutters as he slips in, pulling Mike inside.
His eyes widen, flickering over to the dark cabinet just beside the wall next to the door. “Fuck–shit, sorry. I forgot. Christ–”
“It’s–”
“Will? Mike?” Holly croaks as Will switches the light on, and his head turns to find Holly with her knees to her chest and water running down her cheeks.
He swallows, rushing over quickly. Mike follows behind too, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Will’s hands curl around her quickly.
His hand traces a gentle pattern through her hair, letting her sob wet patches into his shoulder.
“We’re so sorry. We didn’t know your night light was off.” He murmurs, chin propped on her head. His other hand curls around her back.
Holly’s hair is a mess, slightly matted at the back. She hiccups in Will’s shoulder, fingers tightening around his–Mike’s–shirt. “It’s–it’s okay. I just…I had a nightmare. About that.”
“It’s okay, huh? We’re here. We’re right here, and you’re okay. That place is closed off now.” Will whispers, eyes flickering to Mike, who watches like a lost sheep, unsure what to do.
Will understands it. He’s woken up countless times as a kid in Mike’s room, and he was frozen there for at least a couple of seconds before rushing over to give Will a tight hug. Will’s more or less always been the one to comfort.
“You watched El close the gates, remember?” Mike tries, softly, his hand curling over Holly’s. Hers is clutched into a tight fist.
“I–I know that,” She sniffles, pulling back from Will. Her eyes flicker between the two boys, wiping away her drying tears. “But…I don’t know. ‘M sorry.”
“Hey, no, no,” Will shakes his head so quickly Mike’s surprised he doesn’t have whiplash. “Don’t ever apologise for that, okay? We understand.”
He runs a hand through her hair, gently pulling some of the easy knots out. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It was just about him,” She quietens.
The two have learnt over the past months Holly hates naming them all. She hates bringing it up, which is understandable, so they inch away from the conversations as quickly as they can.
Unfortunately, whenever Holly wakes up gasping for air after a nightmare, it’s a little harder to brush over those types of conversations.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” She sounds worried, as if they’ll force it out of her.
They had to do it one time in the first few weeks when their hanging out started, because it was so bad Holly had rushed herself to the bathroom and threw up whatever she ate that night.
Will and Mike’s date night was cancelled, and instead they sat downstairs; and kicked Ted upstairs after a long talk (not too long, apparently, because Holly is Ted’s favourite) about needing the television.
They watched Holly’s favourite cartoons, and gave her as much ice cream as she wanted. Karen made a small appearance too, dusting a few sweet words and gestures, before heading back to bed.
“Can we watch a movie instead? A cartoon, maybe?”
“Yeah,” Will nods, eyes turning to Mike for confirmation. He nods back just as quickly. “Yes. Of course, let’s go do that. C’mon.”
– ! ꩜ ⋆˚࿔ it was simple, it was sweetness
SATURDAY, 9:34AM.
“Will,” Will’s eyes flutter open, blinking for a few seconds before focusing on Holly, eyes cautious. She shoves a gentle hand on him.
Pulling them away with a little grin, her eyes turn to Mike, who sleeps on the couch still. His back is turned to them now, and Will’s back is aching from sleeping on the floor.
“Will. Can we bake?”
“Holly, it’s like–” His eyes turn to the clock on the wall. “Nine in the morning.”
“Shh!” Her hands flail about, flashing another cautious glance to her brother. “I know, but…I ruined Mike’s favourite sweater yesterday. The one you bought him.”
She nods, looking back to Will, a pleading thing in her eyes. “I want to bake for him.”
Will huffs a gentle laugh, lifting himself to sit upright because there is definitely no way he’s getting out of this.
He nods a little. “Holly, most of the paint came out. Your brother said it’s fine already.”
“Alright, well, your boyfriend is a liar and he will whine about it as soon as he puts it on!” She whispers, brows raising and gesturing with her arms. “And–I also just want to bake. So.”
Will nods again, rubbing his eyes. “Sure, we can–”
Holly is already up, and also pulling Will up, dragging both of them to the kitchen. He almost trips up around four times before he can properly wake up, and stand to be at height with the counter.
“I wanna make, umm,” Her eyes flicker around, lips pushing out. “Cookies!”
“Will your mom kill me if we bake at nine in the morning?” Will questions as he walks over to the cupboard, picking out the ingredients anyway.
Despite the fact he’s still half asleep and a little lightheaded, and the fact that Ted might come down and actually kick him out this time, he’ll do anything for Holly’s sake.
Holly is nodding her head. “Nope. Definitely not.”
He turns around and raises his brows at her, sugar and whatnot pressed to his chest from crossing his arms.
He walks back to the island counter, propping the stuff down, then hoists Holly up onto the counter top too–even though she doesn’t need to be there.
Last time he tried to keep all five feet of her on the floor, she whined and fake-cried her way through several sentences. He’s not making that mistake again.
Holly dangles her feet off, lips curving. “Am I interrupting yours and Mike’s date time?”
Will snickers softly, shaking his head at her. “What? No. Me and your brother just sit in his room. This is,” He narrows his eyes, nudging her arm. “Ten times better.”
“I’m gonna tell him you said that, y’know?” She wiggles her brows, some sort of habit she’s picked up from constantly teasing them.
Will thought he’d be able to escape his friends’ teasing, but as it turns out, Mike’s sister is the devil reincarnated in preppy pink clothes.
“Really? You’d tell on me?” Will’s lips pull down into a frown, his head turning away from her to focus on measuring how much he needs on the scales.
He spoons some butter into the small bowl, eyes narrowing at the number. Only then, he flashes her another look. “He’d make me apologise for days, Holly. Actually, scrap that, he’d kick me out.”
Then, hand on his heart, he adds, “How would you survive without glitter-filled braids?”
“No!” Holly shakes her head hastily. “It’s so boring when it's just me and Mike. He whines like, ‘Will, this, Will that’.”
“See?” Will tips his head to the side, grinning at her. “You can’t tell on me.”
He drops his head back down after Holly’s protests trail off, pouring caster sugar and flour into the bowl. He only tips in some brown sugar, because Holly likes the golden caster sugar more, and grabs the whisk.
His eyes flicker to her, holding it up.
She pouts, shaking her head like it’s the only motion she can do at this time. Will scoffs and averts his eyes, whisking it all together.
Turns out, Holly hates everything baking wise, and prefers doing all the decorating instead.
She can’t be blamed, decorating is definitely the best part of baking. She’s gotten good at it too–she’ll add tiny stars or hearts, or move over to the dining room and bluntly tell them to go away.
Then, she’ll come back thirty minutes later with a cookie, Mike and Will’s name meshed together messy.
That, or she’ll be serious and decorate her favourite thing that week. Last week’s cookies were a mix of unicorns and her childhood teddy bear.
The teddy bear makes a reappearance every week.
Holly lifts her head, cringing. “Michael is awake.”
Will lifts his head too, eyes peeking around the corner. Mike is awake, stretching his arms above his head and tugging the shirt down over his stomach.
He glances around, before his eyes land on Holly and Will in the kitchen, a small smile curving on his lips.
It’s a tired thing, blooming with his flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. The shirt that he tugged down over himself sits a little lopsided, the skin on his hip just peeking out.
Will waves from the kitchen after their momental staring contest, beckoning Mike over. Holly slaps his hand down softly, frowning, but her eyes beam a little lighter.
“He’s not that bad.”
“I’m not bad at all,” Mike furrows his brows, arms wrapping around Will’s waist from behind.
His voice is still croaky and deep, and Will can feel his words vibrate on his skin whenever his chin lands on his shoulder.
That, or the few light kisses he’s grazing onto Will’s shoulder, trailing all the way up to his jawline. Will’s stomach flutters.
“Gross. Stop that.”
“Dude, you’re so judgemental.” Mike murmurs, glaring over at Holly and sticking his tongue out at her. Holly does the same thing.
“Real mature, Mike.” Will nudges him with his elbow, earning a small sound from Mike and loosened hands.
Will pours the chocolate chips into the mix.
Mike yawns, nodding a little. Will cringes at the odd feeling of Mike’s chin jutting on his shoulder, shoving him away a little. “What are you making?”
“Cookies. Idiot.” Holly retorts, shoving her foot into Mike’s hip.
He slips away from Will and leans against the counter instead, nose scrunching up at her.
“Shut up, Holly. You’re stealing mine and Will’s date time,” He says, brushing some hair from her face.
His eyes turn to Will, watching him focus on splattering the mix onto the trays. “Baby, you forgot the parchment paper–” His eyes return to Holly, frowning. “–Pay up.”
Will curses under his breath, shifting before pausing and turning to Mike. His heart does something silly and giddy, before forcefully pushing himself out of it and ducking down to the cupboards.
He grabs the paper, slips back to the counter, and continues.
“I am not paying you.” Her face scrunches up in disgust. “I will pay Will, though. He buys me stuff.”
“I buy you things too!” Mike blinks, his brows raising so much his forehead crinkles.
“No, grandpa. You don’t, you just follow Will around when he buys me things.”
Will stifles a little laugh, picking up the tray after finishing up. He slides the oven door open, slips it in, and stands back up.
After stretching the pain in his back out, Mike curls an arm around him, tugging him in close. His head rests on his shoulder, and Holly watches with a chewed back smile.
“Why are you guys baking at ten in the morning?” Mike murmurs, tipping his head down to the boy curled under his arm.
Will looks up, a small shrug. “We started at half nine. Holly wanted to bake because she ruined–”
“Because I wanted to bake.” She corrects, sending a small glare. Will laughs, hummed from his lips being shoved together with a small nod.
“Right. She wanted to bake.”
Will rings his arm around the back of Mike’s waist, shuffling closer, despite already being too close, it somehow isn’t enough.
He thinks if someone melted their bodies together, they’d still lack some sort of physical contact.
Mike’s fingers are digging a gentle circle into Will’s back to hurry the pain away, and it’s really not doing much–Will won’t say anything because Mike is so warm, and he loves this–but it helps a small bit.
“Holly, do you wanna decorate the cookies when they’re done?”
“Yes, Will. Obviously,” She chirps, shifting on the counter. Her hands rest on her knees. “This time, I’m gonna make you and Mike kiss on them.”
Will flushes, brows raising at her. Mike is choking on his laughter and tilting his head the other way, cheeks returning to the same red as yesterday.
“Holly.” Will sucks in a sharp breath, hand sliding to his cheek, only to check the temperature. “Why don’t you draw a unicorn instead, mm?”
“No. I like my decision more.”
– ! ꩜ ⋆˚࿔ and if there is no more time, this always remains
SUNDAY, 9:45AM.
“Mike, move,” Will grumbles out a croak, lips tucked into a deep frown and eyes fluttered shut. There’s a heavy weight casted upon him, which is home to said boyfriend.
“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head, keeping his face tucked into the crevice of Will’s neck, lips grazing and breath fanning.
Will tries to act un-interested but apparently his actions aren’t quite lining up with the thoughts in his mind. He shifts a little closer, arm sliding around his back.
His fingers trail gentle patterns. Circles, hearts, squares all repeated until Mike is letting out tired little sighs.
“We don’t have to move yet. My mom can cook Holly breakfast,” He whispers across Will’s neck, arms slugging around Will tighter. “Just stay. Little longer.”
“Your mom isn’t home, remember?” He stifles a laugh, tilting his head to blink down at Mike.
Dishevelled hair, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes squished closed like he dropped glue in them, tight and not wanting to open, even as the light peels into their room.
It’s a light orange, casting across them just like the night-light usually does, only more sweeter and kissing over Mike’s skin too perfectly.
Will hums, shifting from under Mike and ignoring all the gentle groaned out protests. He plants a kiss to Mike’s shoulder, which quickly shuts him up.
Only then, Mike’s eyes flutter open, frown evident on his chapped lips. “‘S warm. Don’t wanna move.”
“C’mon,” Will whispers out, lay on his side just like Mike has, now that he’s moved a smidge. “Mm?”
When no response comes, he sighs, shifting a little closer to plant a quick, gentle kiss to Mike’s cheek. “I’ll make you hot cocoa,” He tries, and plants another kiss, but this time just beside his lip.
Mike’s lips are curving upwards, eyes closing again. “Hmm. Pretty convincing,” He mumbles, peaks an eye open, and taps his lip. “One more.”
“You’re greedy.”
“Shut up. Kiss me.”
Will narrows his eyes, shaking his head slowly. When Mike’s lips part he quickly makes a run for it, grabbing his shirt from the floor, shrugging it on and heading for the door.
Mike, suddenly now awake, is up on his feet and slipping his shirt on too, rushing after him. “Will! Hey, what–”
“Shh, shut up,” Will cracks a grin at him, intertwining their fingers to tug him down the stairs. Mike groans, loudly. “I promised a hot cocoa. Not anything else.”
“Sue me for being greedy,” Mike continues, as they slide into the kitchen.
Mike follows the other around like a lost puppy, fingers grazing his skin and trying to steal more, and more hugs.
“Your kisses are practically medicine,” He offers, to which Will lifts a brow, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m serious. Do you have any idea how many times you’ve cured my sickness?”
“What you mean is, you gave me the bug too, and you just couldn’t tell.” Will blinks at him, arms crossing.
His back hits the counter behind him, the tap on and filling up the sink that has a few left dishes in from Ted’s breakfast.
Mike shrugs, stepping in front of him. His hands rest either side of Will on the counter, leaning down a little.
Will’s heart still thumps, even now.
“More or less the same thing, isn’t it?” It comes out whispered, which only serves Will’s heart to skitter just a little more.
Or, maybe even more when Mike tilts his head, eyes averting to Will’s lips like a small plea.
“You’re stupid.”
“You love me.” He shrugs, lifting his eyes back to Will’s.
Will’s smile turns sheepish, huffing out an exaggerated sigh. His fingers slide to Mike’s shoulders for some sort of anchor, and Mike takes it as a confirmation to step closer.
He, thankfully, also reaches forward and slaps the tap off behind Will, before any water can slide down the boy's back and ruin another perfectly fine shirt.
“Do you want pancakes?” Will questions, just as Mike’s head drops to his shoulder, tucking back into the crevice of his neck.
He hums a no, and peppers Will’s skin in light quick kisses. Will’s lips curve, shifting on his feet, hand sliding to rest in the back of Mike’s messy hair.
“Stop doing that,” He mumbles, then, “What about bacon?”
“Stop what?” Mike whispers back, like a tease, breath fanning. He plants one deliberate kiss, just at Will’s jawline. “This?”
“Mike,” Will pulls in a gentle whine, to which he laughs back at, silent and more like a stuttered breath. “Stop. Bacon?”
“Yes,” He finally pulls back, sliding his hands from the counter, and to Will’s arms. He nods once, sighing. “Bacon is fine. I’ll wake the devil.”
“Mm-mm,” Will smiles, watching as Mike slowly, reluctantly, steps back with a little frown on his face. “Grab my Walkman too. And the mixtape you gave me.”
Mike nods along before disappearing around the corner, heavy footsteps stomping all the way upstairs. Will’s pretty sure he hears a shriek from Holly, too.
It could’ve been Mike’s.
He turns to the fridge, pulling out the bacon packet and eggs–because Holly will have a breakdown if there isn’t one or two on her plate–then turns to the stove.
Turning it on to one of the middle gas marks, he places the pan onto it. A few seconds pass by, and Holly is scurrying down the stairs with a quiet, yet excited bubble.
“I can already smell that bacon.” She urges, quickly hoisting herself up onto the island counter just behind Will.
Will laughs, only just opening the packet. He slips three pieces of bacon into the small pan for now, sets the packet back down, and glances over his shoulder. “Right, sure you can.”
Then, a little smile, “You hungry enough for eggs, too?”
“Duh. When am I not?” She shakes her head hastily, rubbing her hands together. They plant down on the counter top, drumming impatiently. “Mm. I’ll colour while I wait.”
She slips off the counter, runs away and turns the corner for the living room. Will turns back to his pan with a gentle sigh.
Mike, finally back with the Walkman, steps back behind Will. He sets it down, one hand curled lazily around Will’s waist, the other trying to jam the mixtape into the Walkman.
Will’s lips curve. Mike rests his chin on his shoulder, finally prodding it in. He presses play, then sets it further away from the stove.
Should I Stay Or Should I Go? Is the first one that plays.
“My favourite,” He grins, glancing to the side to catch Mike’s close face. Mike hums in response, spooning his other arm around his waist.
“Mm. Of course. You think I forgot?” He shakes his head a little, then lets it rest on the back of Will’s shoulder. “It’s all little you used to sing.”
“Obsessive.” Will mumbles under his breath, flipping the bacon with tongs when one side is cooked. “And to think this is the summer you blatantly ignored me because your ‘skin burned too much’.”
Mike shakes his head a little, lifting it. He soothes a kiss onto Will’s skin just under his ear. “Don’t think about that,” A whisper, a plea.
“Gross.” Holly pulls with a groan, sliding back onto the counter top with a bucket of pens and pencils. The colouring book sits in front of her.
Will lifts his head from the pan at the same time as Mike, blinking over their shoulders, watching Holly already engrossed in colouring a flower pot.
A smile warps onto Will’s lips. The Walkman flicks over to something by The Smiths.
After a few moments of Mike’s pestering and lazy kisses, Holly’s hungry moans from the side, and Will’s quick hushes, he finishes up lightly burning the bacon and plating it up.
Mike and Will share a plate, sliding into the seats at the island counter. Holly does too, brushing her colouring things to the side, instantly chewing down on her bacon.
Between her eating, a choked gasp comes. “Oh. I’m interrupting your date time again.”
Mike swallows his bacon, eyes fluttering to his sister. He nods almost instantly, even if the thought has just registered in his mind. “Yep. You owe me a comic, and Will new paint.”
She frowns hard. “Fine, greedy,” Her eyes turn to Will, shaking her head. “Not you. Just Mike.”
— ୨ৎ and the summer begins, with the taste of your lips
SUNDAY, 1:45PM.
Each kiss that lines any inch of Will’s body is complete and utter bliss. Mike’s lips are soft and gentle, as if he’s won some sort of prize that he has to cherish each time he comes into contact with it.
Mike’s eyes, that always flutter with some sort of love and admiration, are soft. Creasing under his eyes as he smiles, trying to chew it away.
It’s something Will has always wished for. Deep down, somewhere in his bones–even if it’s wrong and degraded on the news–he needs the softness, just like he needs air to breathe.
He needed to feel the way his fingers twitch each time his hands run through Mike’s hair, or choke on the soft gasp that passes his lips when Mike kisses scars he’d always hated as a kid.
He’d tie an entire lasso around the moon, and bring it down, if that’s what his boyfriend wanted. He’s fairly certain it goes both ways, too.
“Earth to Byers?” Mike’s tease pokes through, fingers prodding his cheek. “Hello? Where’d you go just now?”
Will blinks, eyes lifting from Mike’s mouth, and up to his eyes. His lips curve just so. “Thinking about you.”
Mike’s cheeks flush a rosy red, eyes averting to the abandoned game of Guess Who just beside them. He huffs a quiet breath, lifting his eyes. “Mm? What about me?”
“I don’t know, just,” He shakes his head a little, fingers trailing and landing on Mike’s curled up knees.
Mike’s lap over his after, tracing his knuckles. Soft, soft, soft.
“You. Does that make sense?”
Mike, even if he’s as patient as ever when it comes to him, shakes his head with a tiny snort. “No, Will. Not really.”
He chews on his bottom lip before a sigh can pass, carefully taking in Mike’s features. The expression lined on them, so gentle and concerned–as if Will has ever had a bad thought about him.
His lips tug at that. “It’s not bad, Mike. Just–you know,” He shrugs, skin flaring up into a messy red. “I love you, and I think that–”
“Hold on. Are you breaking up with me?”
Will’s head snaps back to him, brows raised sky-high. He quickly shakes his head and shuffles a little closer. “No, what? Mike, shut up.”
He bites on his bottom lip to refrain from saying anything else, eyes fluttering a little apologetic. A sheepish smile lines his lips.
“No, I–I’m being appreciative,” Will narrows his eyes, glancing down to their messy intertwined hands. “I’ll be real, our lives fucking sucked, right? They sucked.”
He shakes his head, glancing back up to Mike. “And I was thinking at how–just–fucking insane it is. To have this,” Their hands part, only for Will to gesture between them. “This softness after everything.”
Quietness seeps into his bones, running his hands back over Mike’s, twisting them back together. “You think we deserve it? After all of it?”
Mike hums for a long moment, before ultimately nodding his head. “Yeah. We definitely deserve it,” Then, more quietly, leaning in a little more, “And whoever says we don’t, is a mouthbreather. ‘Kay?”
Will smiles wider, huffing a scoff. Mike cracks his own little smile and sighs deeply. “I love you too, Will. More than you realise.”
Will thinks about giving the sun and the moon to him. Whichever he’d prefer. He’d definitely scold his hands and melt his skin just to grab the blaze for him.
Mike pulls a hand away gently, sliding it to Will’s cheek, pulling him in. Will only allows this now, because Holly is upstairs sleeping and not about to crash their date.
His lips curve involuntarily when his eyes close, which is around the same time as their lips graze, drawing a gentle breath from both of them.
Mike’s lips are just as soft as he remembers, maybe a little more chapped now that winter is rolling around and curling coldness deep into their bones, but still mellow.
His touch is still as gentle, even if his fingers dig into his skin like Will is about to get up and run away, drawing him closer and closer.
Will breathes a shaky sigh, fingers finding themselves at the back of Mike’s neck, curling up into the growing out slight-curls. Mike tilts his head to offer a better position, and Will selfishly takes it.
He could get used to this. He might already be too comfortable with it.
When they part, foreheads pressed together and breathing out little sighs across each other’s lips, it feels just like summer. Warm and engulfing, sweet and hot.
“I love you.” Will’s eyes flutter open, blinking up to a starry-eyed Mike.
And it’s the truth, like it has been since they were seven years old on a swing set, just barely grazing their fingers together.
He loves Mike Wheeler. Forevermore, probably.