blue street lights (his hazel eyes)

by bylerspresso

Summary:

“Has anyone ever told you how goddamn sexy you are?” Mike whispered against Will’s skin, feeling Will’s legs tighten around him, his dick brushing against Mike’s in a way that made Mike have to shut his eyes in order to not cum right there. Will curved his neck, exposing it to Mike’s teeth, gasping as Mike sank into it.
“Just you.” He stuttered, his hands clawing at Mike’s back, pulling him closer.
“Good.” Mike replied, his voice like gravel. “If anyone else ever did, I’d fucking kill them.”

Or,

Mike gives Will a ride home after Stacy’s graduation party. Will returns the favour.

Notes:

hihi this is my first time writing smut and i am not experienced so i hope you enjoy!! my tl has been so byler car sex pilled recently and i wanted to invite myself to the party.

Mike’s life has been nothing short of traumatic. He had lost his best friend, found him again, lost his girlfriend, found her again, almost died countless times, almost lost everyone he loved at least once, and watched his girlfriend die in front of his eyes all before he could even drive. But the worst event of his life so far was happening to him right here, right now; Stacy Albright’s graduation party. He didn’t want to be there - parties weren’t his thing (he had never actually been to one to confirm this, but he knew himself well enough). But, despite being the so-called “heart” of the party, he never got a say in anything they did.

Bullshit.

 

“Mike, seriously, we have to go to this party.” Dustin had told him earlier that afternoon. They - himself, Dustin, Lucas, Max and Will - had been lingering on the football field in those awful highlighter orange graduation gowns, having just been approached by Stacy with the invite. The first time she’d spoken to them since the 8th grade, Mike had noted. He wasn’t at all bitter.

“Yeah, man. What’s the other option? Hang out in your armpit of a basement?” Lucas implored.

Mike had scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his face contorting in indignation. “Oh, so, the basement that you’ve stayed in almost every weekend since you were ten suddenly isn’t good enough for you?”

“Oh my God, here he goes again with this shit.” Lucas groaned, while Dustin shook his head.

“Seriously, he acts like he would’ve let us hang out anywhere else.” Dustin muttered. Max let out a sharp, pointed sigh as she rolled her eyes.

“Mike, I’m going to be honest with you.” She started. “We have just graduated high school. Even after all the bullshit of the past six years, we made it. We’re here. With diplomas to show for it. Don’t you think we deserve to celebrate - really celebrate? Like, as in, do something other than play DND and eat your mom’s lasagne?”

“My mom makes the best celebration lasagne.” Mike had mumbled, affronted.

“Dude, I love Karen’s lasagne more than anyone. But this is our last chance to say we went to a high school party. And this is the party of all parties.” Dustin replied, pausing before adding. “Even Will wants to go.”

Mike had looked towards Will, who had up until then been quiet. He had a small smile across his face, the rare type that made his hazel eyes sparkle and crinkle, and showed his little bunny teeth that made Mike’s stomach feel warm. Mike tilted his head slightly towards Will, as if to signal that his words were only for Will’s ears. “Do you?”

Mike’s voice was softer than it had been before, his gaze flicking between Will’s eyes and the mole above his lip. Will had nodded, his cheeks pinking under the scrutiny.

“I mean, yeah. We’ve never gone to a party before. I think…I think it could be really fun. If you want to.”

“See?” Max had goaded, leaning into Will’s side. Mike hadn’t liked that. For some reason.

“Well, okay - say we did go. Hypothetically.” He had added, throwing a warning glance at Dustin and Lucas. “What’d the logistics be? How would we get there? Who’d take us home? What’s the party etiquette? What do we wear? When-“

“Oh, man, stop, stop! How do you manage to make a party nerdy?” Lucas sighed, his hands running down his face as Will snorted a giggle that Mike felt like an arrow in his ribs. “Listen, just ask Nancy or Jonathan. I’m sure one of them would bring us.”

“They have their thing at the WSQK tonight.” Mike countered. “Ask Nancy if you can borrow her car.” Dustin shrugged.

Mike’s brow furrowed. “Why me?”

“You’re the only one of us who has a license, man.” Lucas replied.

“Yeah, why is that?” Mike had asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Because since you have it none of us need to.” Max grinned.

“So I’m just your designated driver? Is that all you want me for?” Mike asked.

“Yes.” Replied Max, Lucas and Dustin.

“No!” Replied Will. Will glanced up at Mike, and for a second the world became just them. “If you don’t want to go then I won’t either.” He said, his voice low and private.

“But you want to go?” Mike asked, and Will hesitated before shrugging.

“I mean, I’ll have fun either way.”

“But you want to go.”

“Well-“

“Will.”

“I…yeah. I want to go.” Will had mumbled, bashful.

Mike let out a sigh of admission at that. Max, Lucas, and Dustin were…whatever. But he couldn’t say no to Will. He didn’t want to.

“Alright. I’ll ask Nance if I can borrow the car.” He groaned, met with a whoop from Max and a high five between Dustin and Lucas. “But I’m setting some ground ru-“

“Ground rules? You outdo yourself every time, Mike. Seriously. Have you ever thought about a career in comedy?” Dustin snorted, as Lucas slung one arm around his neck and the other around Max’s as he steered them away.

“Where are you guys going? We don’t even- We don’t have a plan yet!” Mike had called after them, his voice cracking with frustration.

“Walkie me!” Lucas had yelled back. Mike huffed a sigh, then turned to Will.

“Are you sure you wanna go to this, Mike? I don’t want you to just be looming in the corner while we all have fun.” Will had asked, his eyes wide and shining in the way that made Mike want to give his best friend the world on a silver platter.

“I’ll be having fun if I know you’re having fun, Will. You don’t need to drink to enjoy parties. Being sober in a room full of drunk people is probably fine. Exciting, even.”

 

It was, as Mike came to find out, not fine nor exciting. Mike was sweating through his collared shirt, his hair damp at his temples, clutching a red paper cup with flat soda that had warmed to room temp about half an hour ago. The bass boomed through the floorboards and vibrated up Mike’s whole body, so loud he couldn’t even really make out the song. Something bad, probably (even if it was something good, he’d never give Stacy Albright the satisfaction of complimenting her music taste, even if it was just in his own mind).

The room was busy, the air was stifling, and he hadn’t seen Max, Lucas, or Dustin in at least 2 hours. Will, of course, was in his direct line of sight. Mike always knew Will was pretty. It was, like, a fact of the universe. Like how E=mc^2. But here, under the reflection of Stacy’s shitty disco ball and neon lights, he looked almost angelic. He was dancing with some girl from his art class, a solo cup in one hand. His smile lit up his face, free and uninhibited in a way Mike hadn’t seen in years. He was like a flower, blooming under the sun, that Mike wanted to keep just for himself.

But he knew better than to pick pretty flowers.

Was it normal, Mike wondered, to want to keep his best friend all to himself? It had to be. It was the only way he’d ever felt about Will. That Will was someone to protect, someone to shield. His to protect. But recently, he hadn’t been so sure.

 

The seeds of doubt had taken root toward the end of March, settling into the quiet corners of the Wheeler basement like dust motes. College acceptance letters had begun to arrive in steady waves, pulling their world apart piece by piece. Lucas and Max were already planning their move to California; Dustin had secured his spot at UChicago. Mike and Will remained the final outliers, waiting for a pair of envelopes from NYU that felt heavier with every day they didn't arrive.

On that particular Sunday morning, the basement was thick with a lazy haze that had grown familiar. There was nowhere else they needed to be, and nothing they wanted to do more be with each other. Will was sprawled across the length of the sofa, his limbs loose and relaxed. Mike sat on the floor beside him, leaning back so his head rested right where Will’s hand dangled off the cushions.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” Will mused. His voice was airy, drifting through the stillness of the room. “In New York, I mean. If we get in.”

Mike didn't move his head, enjoying the grounding weight of the sofa and the proximity of Will’s hand. “If? Of course we’ll get in.”

“Then where are our letters?”

“They don’t want to come across too eager, you know?” Mike joked, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “They want to make us sweat, so we want them more.”

“You’re stupid,” Will whispered. He smiled, his voice dropping to a low, fond register that made the insult feel like a physical warmth.

Mike tilted his head back to look up at him. He found Will already watching him, his expression open and gentle.

“Hey,” Will murmured.

Mike’s grin widened, feeling a familiar spark of heat in his chest. “Hi.”

The light moment didn't last. Will blinked, and the softness in his eyes sharpened into something more serious, something guarded. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“If… when… we go to New York… I, uh, I don’t think we should..." Will hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly near Mike's hair. "I don't think we should room together.”

The air seemed to leave Mike’s lungs all at once. His eyebrows pulled tight, his entire face curling into a hard frown as he stiffened against the sofa. He pulled away from the cushions, sitting up straight so he could face Will properly. “What? Why? I thought that was the plan?”

“I mean… it was your plan, Mike,” Will said quietly.

“Why don’t you want to room with me? Am I too messy?” Mike’s words started to tumble out, frantic and defensive. “Because I can get better, I swear - I’ll keep my side of the room spotless.”

“Mike-“

“And I can cook! You know I can actually make things now, I wouldn't just leave it all to you.”

“Mike.”

“And I shower, like, regularly now-“

“Michael!” Will sat up, reaching out as if to steady the conversation. “It’s not about any of that. Trust me. I know you’d be a great roommate.”

Mike blinked. “But? There’s a but, isn’t there?”

Will looked down at his lap, picking at a loose thread on his blue jeans. “I just… I think it’d be better for us, both of us, if we have a little distance, I guess.”

“Distance?” Mike repeated the word like it was a foreign concept, something bitter on his tongue. “I don’t want distance.”

“Not distance. I didn’t mean it like that,” Will corrected quickly, looking pained. “I just meant… we’re going to college, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“And in college, you typically, you know, meet new people.”

“Why can’t we meet new people together?” Mike asked. He sounded younger than he had five minutes ago.

Will sighed, finally meeting Mike's eyes with a look of desperate honesty. “Mike, I meant… meet new people to date.”

The silence that followed was heavy. “Oh,” Mike said. The realization hit him like a physical weight, settling in his gut.

Oh.

“Yeah,” Will said.

“You think I’ll, like, stop you from dating?”

Will had sighed at that. “I mean, in a way, I guess.”

“How? I want you to be happy, Will, I swear.” Mike’s voice cracked slightly, the sincerity of it echoing off the wood-paneled walls.

“I know you do, Mike. And being your… being your friend is important to me,” Will said, choosing his words with agonizing care. “But I need more, from other people.”

“Why can’t you have more and still live with me? Why do they have to be mutually exclusive?”

“Because college is where we find out who we are when we aren’t attached at the hip twenty-four seven,” Will explained. He looked weary, as if he had practiced this speech a dozen times in his head.

“We’ve been separated twice since we met, Will, and we both hated it,” Mike reminded him, his voice rising in desperation.

“That’s completely different. The first time, I was stuck in a literal alternate dimension, and the second, I was states away,” Will countered, a small, sad smile flickering on his face. “This time, I’ll just be across the hall.”

Mike looked away, his jaw tight. He had envisioned a specific future - the two of them against the world in a tiny, cramped dorm. Domestic bliss. “I just thought… I just thought we’d do it together.”

“Oh, Mike.” Will reached out, briefly squeezing Mike’s shoulder, and Mike tilted his head to rest above Will’s knuckles like a cat seeking heat. “We are doing it together, I promise. I couldn’t do it without you.”

Mike blew out a long breath, trying to dispel the tension in his shoulders. “Together. Just… across the hall.”

“Across the hall,” Will promised. There was a beat of still, fragile silence before Mike spoke.

“Alright, Will,” He sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa again, though the ease of the morning had vanished. “If that’s what you want.”

Ever since then, Mike just couldn’t shake it off. Will wanted distance from him. Will didn’t need him anymore. Will would find someone else, someone to do everything Mike did but better.

 

Back at Stacy’s party, Mike’s hand tightened around his cup. He was sure Lucas and Dustin probably felt the same, when they realised they were going to college so far away from each other. It’s probably how Jonathan and Argyle felt, too, when Jonathan moved back to Hawkins after Season 4. It’s just how people felt when they cared about their friend. Their best friend.

Mike hadn’t lied when he said he wanted Will to be happy. He did, truly. He wanted Will to be loved because Will deserves to be loved and he deserves to experience everything that comes with it. Mike knows that.

So why does the thought of it make Mike want to rip his hair out follicle by follicle?

He looked out to the dancefloor, where Will was still in the center. Looking like a goddamn angel. Nobody was worthy of him. Nobody. That must be it. He was the only one who really saw how special Will was. None of those New York guys would get it. They couldn’t make his tea like Mike could. They couldn’t soothe Will after a nightmare like Mike does. They couldn’t love him like Mike loved his best friend.

Across the sticky floor and the hazy, neon-tinted air of the living room, Will’s head turned. He found Mike’s gaze with an accuracy that felt like a magnetic pull, his expression shifting from a carefree laugh to something focused and quiet. He didn't hesitate; he simply stopped dancing, leaving the crowd behind. Mike watched, as Will began to weave through the crush of bodies. He slipped past shoulders and around outstretched arms, never once breaking eye contact. As he drew closer, the frantic thump of the bass seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the inevitable approach of the person who had always known exactly where to find him.

Will stopped inches from Mike, the heat radiating off him in waves. He had to tilt his head back to bridge the distance, looking up with an expression that was dangerously playful.

“Hey, Mr. Doom and Gloom," he said, his voice light and melodic, cutting through the heavy bass of the speakers. "Do you come here often?”

“Do I hang out in Stacy’s living room often? Is that what you’re asking me?” Mike smirks, the tension in his chest easing just enough for him to reach out. He settled a hand on Will’s forearm, the skin there warm and slightly damp from the dance floor. “Are you okay?”

His voice is low, a private frequency beneath the noise of the party, but Will hears it anyway. Will’s eyes flicked down to Mike’s mouth, then back up, his pupils blown wide. He looked like he was debating a silent war between his drunk mind and his sober one. When Will reached out and looped his fingers around Mike’s tie, giving it a sharp, short tug, Mike was trying sure which side won.

“Why are you wearing a tie to a party, Mike?” Will mumbled. He was looking up through his lashes, a look so heavy and intentional it makes Mike’s throat go dry. “You’re so serious all the time. Like… like a soldier. Or an office worker. Did you leave your briefcase in the foyer?”

Blood rushed to Mike’s cheeks in a sudden, violent heat. He didn’t know whether it was the suffocating temperature of the crowded room or the proximity to the boy in front of him. “Are you drunk, Will Byers?” Mike scoffs, his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he crooks his head to the side.

Will lets out a small, breathless giggle that vibrates right through Mike’s hand. “Are you gonna tell my mom?” he whispers, his eyes dancing with a secret, hazy light.

Mike shakes his head, mesmerized. “No. I'm not telling.”

“Good.”

“Your hair’s a mess, Will,” Mike says, a desperate attempt to break the tension he isn’t sure is mutual, his fingers twitching against Will's arm.

“Fix it for me then.”

Mike blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“Or are you too shy?” Will challenges, a daring tilt to his chin.

“No, no. I-I can fix it.” Mike lifts his hand, his touch hesitant at first before his fingers sink into the strands. It’s impossibly soft, catching the light as he smooths the stray locks back into place. Will doesn't pull away; instead, he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. It’s a moment that feels devastatingly domestic, yet the air between them is charged with a sudden, electric weight - a tension so thick Mike can feel it in his teeth.

“There,” Mike breathes, his hand lingering a second too long against Will's temple. Will opens his eyes, his gaze searching Mike’s face. “You’re too tall, Mike.”

“I’m-”

Before Mike can finish the thought, Will tugs harder on the silk of the tie, forcing Mike to stumble forward and lean down until they are eye-to-eye. The world shrinks until it’s just the two of them, the smell of Will’s shampoo, and the frantic hammering of Mike's heart.

“Better,” Will murmurs.

“Y-yeah,” Mike stammers, his pulse drumming in his ears. “So much better.”

There is a pause where neither of them moves, a suspended second where the tie is the only thing tethering them together.

“Can you come with me to the kitchen?” Will asks, his soft voice dropping an octave. “I need another drink.”

Mike blinked as if he was waking up from a dream. “Kitchen. Yeah. Totally. Let’s - uh, let’s go to the kitchen.”

Will didn’t let go of the tie. He turned on his heel, leading the way through the crowd while keeping Mike firmly snagged by the fabric. Mike follows, stumbling slightly, his face a permanent shade of red. He feels like a dog on a leash, led by a hand he’d follow anywhere without question, and as the friction of his jeans becomes suddenly, uncomfortably tight, and a familiar heat begins to swirl in his stomach, he frantically tells himself it’s just the adrenaline of the party. He keeps his head down, focused entirely on the moles on the back of Will’s tan neck as they disappear into the hallway.

The kitchen is cooler and empty. Will releases Mike’s tie and hops to sit up on the counter, his legs swinging and his eyes dazed. Mike leans against the island, loosening his tie with one hand.

“Have you seen the others?” Mike asks, his voice slightly strained.

“I might’ve seen Dustin with Stacy and Megan earlier,” he chirps, leaning back with a heavy, relaxed sway. “He’s, like, the man of the hour around here since the stunt he pulled with his speech.”

“I still can’t believe he did that,” Mike mutters, leaning against the counter beside him, trying to regulate his breathing.

“It was pretty cool, you have to admit,” Will says, a giggly, lopsided smile spreading across his face. He nudges Mike’s shoulder with his own. “Really… brave of him. Don't you think?”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, though his focus is entirely on the way Will’s eyes are shimmering under the kitchen lights.

“Do you still have yours?” Will asks suddenly, his voice dropping into a softer, curious tone.

“My…?”

“Your Hellfire shirt.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s in my closet,” Mike says, letting out a huff of a laugh. “But, you know, it doesn’t exactly fit.” He gestures vaguely to his frame, the lean muscle of his shoulders stretching the fabric of his button-down. Over the years he had grown into himself, and his body was something he was content with. Proud of, even. “I’m not exactly fourteen anymore.”

Will’s gaze drags slowly over Mike’s chest, a look so blatant it makes Mike’s heart lurch. “I know,” Will murmurs, his voice a low vibration.

“Oh. You, uh, you—”

“Oh, hey.” The moment shatters. Chance, a tall jock with tan skin and an easy, athletic gait, wanders into the kitchen. Mike immediately stops slouching, snapping his spine straight to reach his full, intimidating height. “Wheeler,” Chance nods, then his eyes lock onto Will, softening. “Will, hey.”

“Hi, Chance.” Will beams, his smile wide and bright. Mike bristles. Why the hell is he smiling like that?

“I’m surprised to see you here tonight,” Chance says, stepping into their space. “I mean, Stacy mentioned she invited you guys, but I really didn’t think you’d show.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Will says, leaning forward, his movements fluid and loose from the alcohol.

“I bet.” Chance’s eyes drop to Will’s arms, where tiny goosebumps have prickled the skin. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” Will replies, his voice light and airy. He casts a fleeting, mischievous glance toward Mike. “I run pretty cold anyway.”

“Well, here, take this.” Without hesitation, Chance shucks off his letterman jacket, the heavy wool thudding as he drapes it over Will’s shoulders. “Look, I’ll be back for that later. Maybe we could go somewhere more… private?”

He throws a pointed, dismissive glance at Mike, then grabs a fresh beer from the table and disappears back into the party. Mike stares at the empty doorway, then turns to Will, who has pulled the oversized collar of the jacket up to cover the lower half of his face.

“What the fuck?” Mike snaps, the words bursting out of him. “What?” Will asks through the fabric, his muffled voice sounding far too amused.

“You - what - are you serious?”

Will giggles, a bubbly, infectious sound that only makes Mike’s blood boil more. “It’s just a jacket, Mike, jeez. You’re acting like it’s a hickey.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?” Mike demands, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Will lowers the jacket just enough to show a wicked, drunken grin. “Can I tell you a secret?” He leans in close, smelling of sweet punch and his mom’s lavender laundry detergent. “I’m not cold at all.”

Mike stilled. “Then why are you wearing Chance Lawson’s jacket?”

“I’m flirting with him, Mike. God.” Will rolls his eyes, his face burning. “Max told me that guys like it when you wear their jackets. Makes them feel all protective and stuff.”

“Well, he isn't here now,” Mike scoffs, stepping closer until he’s looming over Will. “So can you take it off?”

“No,” Will stammers with a playful pout, huddling deeper into the wool. “It smells nice. I like it.”

“It doesn’t match your coloring,” Mike says, his voice tight and desperate as he searches for any logical reason to strip the other boy of the jock's claim. “It looks stupid on you.”

Will’s eyes narrow, though they’re still dancing with that hazy, flirtatious light. He reaches out, poking Mike in the chest. “You know what I think, Michael Wheeler?”

“What?”

“I think you’re je-”

“What’s up, party people!” Dustin burst in, smelling of sweat and cheap cologne, effectively killing the heavy, suffocating tension that had been seconds away from snapping. Mike instinctively stepped back, running his fingers through his hair.

“Dustin, hey. Where were you?” Mike’s voice comes out thin and breathless, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon rather than spent five minutes standing still in a kitchen. The adrenaline from Will’s proximity is still humming under his skin, making his movements twitchy and restless.

Dustin saunters over to the punch bowl with a level of confidence that borders on the theatrical, dipping his solo cup into the neon-colored liquid. “Oh, you know. Just making out with Megan Davidson in Stacy’s parents’ en suite. No big deal.” He wears a smug, lopsided smile that screams for attention. Mike’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. For a second, the frustration over the jacket is eclipsed by genuine shock.

“No way.”

“Way,” Dustin chirps. He takes a long sip, then his eyes widen as they land on the heavy wool draped over Will’s shoulders. “Hey, Will… is that- is that Chance’s jacket?” He lets out a low whistle of approval. “Dude, way to go!”

“What? Don’t congratulate him!” Mike snaps, his face twisting in a scowl.

“Mike, I’m maybe one of the straightest guys in Hawkins and even I can appreciate Chance Lawson’s… well, everything,” Dustin says, gesturing vaguely into the air as if Chance’s physique were a work of art.

“Yeah, alright, maybe the guy is vaguely good-looking in some way,” Mike concedes, his tone dripping with reluctance. “But he’s a prick. Or did we all conveniently just forget about that?”

Dustin sighs, looking at Mike with a pained expression of pity. “Mike. Michael. My sweet summer child.”

“You spend too much time with Steve,” Mike mutters.

“Do you think I was in that en suite with Megan for her personality?” Dustin asks, raising an eyebrow. “Trust me, with what we were doing up there, her personality was the last thing on my mind.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I respect people, Dustin,” Mike counters, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe I see them as more than just… bodies.”

“You don’t have to take it so seriously, Mike,” Will interjects. He’s still leaning against the counter, looking hazy and beautiful and entirely too comfortable in another man’s clothes. “Sometimes people just want to… feel good with a good-looking person. Is that so wrong?”

Mike falters, the conviction in his voice wavering under Will’s heavy-lidded gaze. “Well, no-“

“Besides. Maybe I can fix him,” Will says with a playful snort. He nudges the empty cup toward Dustin. “Hey, Dustin, get me another drink?”

“Coming right up, Byers,” Dustin says, refilling the cup with practiced speed that came far too naturally. “Think you can chug it?”

“Watch me.”

Mike can’t help it; he stares, mesmerized, as Will tips his head back. The line of his throat is elegant and pale, moving rhythmically as he drains the cup in one go. To Mike, he looks like a god - something far too radiant for a suburban kitchen in Indiana. Something to be worshipped.

Dustin cheers, clapping Will on the back. “I’ll see you guys later. I have a Megan Davidson to find.”

“We’re leaving at 1:00 AM sharp, Henderson!” Mike calls after him, but his authority is undermined by the fact that he can't stop looking at Will. Mike’s eyes flick down. A small, sticky drop of red punch is trailing down the curve of Will’s chin, catching the light. “You, uh, you have some…”

Will pokes his tongue out to the side, licking the corner of his mouth with a clumsy, drunken grace. “Did I get it?”

“No- just- here, let me.” Mike reaches up, his pulse spiking as he cups Will’s chin. His touch is light, but his hand is steady as he swipes his thumb across Will’s bottom lip to catch the stray drop. He doesn't pull away immediately. His thumb lingers, the pad of his skin pressing into the softness of Will’s lip. The air in the kitchen suddenly feels several degrees hotter, thick with the smell of sugar and the unsaid things that always seem to hang between them. Mike swallows hard, his gaze locked on Will’s mouth.

“You’d be hopeless without me,” Mike whispers, his voice dropping to a low, rough register that vibrates in the small space between them.

“I know,” Will murmurs. He doesn't pull away; instead, he leans just a fraction of an inch into Mike’s palm, seeking the warmth of his hand. Mike blinks, his breath hitching as the weight of the moment threatens to pull him under. He needs to say something - anything - to break the spell before he does something he can't take back.

“You, uh. You look pretty flushed,” Mike says, his voice a bit more frantic than he intended. He lets his hand drop from Will's chin, but it lingers near his shoulder. “I think that jacket is… too warm for you.”

Will’s eyes are dark, shimmering with a hazy, drunken confidence. “You can take it off me if you want.” Mike’s heart gives a violent thud against his ribs.

“I can?”

“I’m waiting for you to, Mike.”

He’s waiting for me, Mike thinks, his brain effectively stalling. 

Mike blinks. The air in the kitchen feels like it’s turned to liquid. Mike reaches out, his movements slow and deliberate, and slides the heavy wool of Chance’s jacket off Will’s shoulders. He doesn't let it drop; he lets his fingers trail down the soft, bare skin of Will’s arms. His touch is light but deliberate, tracing the delicate line of Will's triceps, brushing over the tiny moles and the fresh prickle of goosebumps. His eyes never leave Will’s, locked in a silent, dizzying exchange.

Will lets out a shaky breath, a small, triumphant smirk playing on his lips. “Now you’re the one who looks flushed,” he teases, his voice light but eyes heavy.

“Do I?” Mike asks, his voice barely a breath.

“Yeah.”

“I guess that’s just what you do to me,” Mike admits. The honesty of it feels like a confession, raw and unshielded. Will smiles at that - a shy, genuine expression that breaks through his drunken bravado, his bunny teeth on full display. It’s the version of Will that Mike keeps tucked away in the safest part of his memory.

“I’m going to miss your smile,” Mike says suddenly, the thought catching in his throat. “In New York, I mean.”

Will’s expression falters, his brow furrowing. “What?”

“Just… I was looking forward to waking up to it. Every day,” Mike continues, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I had this whole image in my head of our room, and the light coming through the window, and you just… being there.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Will says, his voice losing its playfulness. He looks away, his jaw tightening as he stares at a random spot on the floor.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t mean it.”

“Of course I mean it, Will-”

“No, Mike. Don’t. Just… please.” Will looks back at him, and for a second, the alcohol-induced haze clears and Will’s eyes are deep and vulnerable. “I don’t want to think about New York. Not tonight. Not when we're here.”

Mike feels a pang of guilt, realizing he’s poked at the very bruise Will was trying to hide with the party and the drinks. He reaches out, squeezing Will’s forearm gently. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. I promise.” Will relaxes at the touch, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him.

He reaches out, snagging Mike’s tie once more, though this time the tug is softer, an invitation rather than a command. “Come dance with me?”

Mike lets out a nervous, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not a dancer, Will. You know that. I look like a folding chair trying to be a person.”

Will tilts his head, his eyes dancing with that infectious, giggly light again. “For me?”

Mike looks at him - really looks at him - and knows he never stood a chance.

“…Alright,” he breathes. “For you.”

Anything for you.

The dancefloor was a cesspit of clammy air and jagged elbows as Mike was led on by Will. The beat of the song is thick and driving, a synth-heavy pulse that seems to vibrate in Mike’s very marrow. He feels stiff, a jarring contrast to the fluid way Will begins to move. Will’s hips sway with an effortless rhythm, his eyes half-closed as he catches the tempo. He looks ethereal under the rotating party lights - streaks of blue and magenta cutting across the bridge of his nose and the curve of his throat.

"Come on, Mike," Will urges, leaning in until his lips nearly brush Mike's ear, his voice a warm, humid slip of sound against the music. "Dance."

Mike doesn't know how to dance, but he knows how to follow Will. He reaches out, his hands finding the narrow span of Will’s waist, his fingers almost meeting around it in a way that sent a jolt through Mike’s gut. The contact is electric. Through the thin fabric of Will's shirt, Mike can feel the heat of him, the slight tension of muscle, and the way Will immediately leans into the touch. Mike finds his own rhythm then, a slow, grounding sway that keeps him anchored while Will spins a web around him.

I know you’re hypnotising, fantasising, hypnotising...

Mike is utterly mesmerized. He watches the way Will’s hair flops over his forehead, the way his damp skin catches the neon light, and the soft, breathless smile that hasn't left his face. Will opens his eyes, finding Mike’s gaze in the dark. He reaches up, draping his arms loosely around Mike’s neck, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. The height difference means Mike has to look down, and the view is devastating. Will looks up at him with a raw, unfiltered adoration that the alcohol has stripped of its usual defenses.

"You're doing it," Will giggles, the sound vibrating against Mike’s chest. "You're dancing."

"I'm just holding onto you so I don't fall over," Mike admits, his voice husky.

He tightens his grip on Will's waist, pulling him a fraction closer until there’s no aid left between them. He feels a sudden, fierce sense of…something. He wants to shield Will from the crowded room, from the prying eyes of people like Chance, from the looming shadow of a city that might try to take this version of them away. In this moment, under the strobe lights and the heavy synth, Mike doesn't care about New York or anything other than Will’s eyes on his. He just wants to stay in this hypnosis, where Will is the center of the universe and Mike is the only one allowed to hold him.

Don’t stop when you hear me calling,

Don’t stop when you hear me shout out,

Fire in my heart…

 

1AM arrives all too soon. The transition from the humid, bass-heavy atmosphere of the living room to the biting chill of the front porch makes Mike’s head swim for a second, but he keeps his feet planted. He has his arm looped firmly around Will’s waist, anchored by the fact that Will is resting almost his entire body weight against Mike’s side, his head lolling near Mike's shoulder.

“Where the fuck are Max and Lucas?” Dustin groans, leaning his back against Stacy’s porch railing as if his legs have finally given up the ghost.

“I don’t know, but I told them-”

“To meet you at the front door at one AM sharp. We know, Wheeler. We were there for the briefing,” a dry voice cuts in.

Mike looks over his shoulder to see Lucas and Max approaching from the side of the house. Their faces are glowing, flushed with alcohol and a sort of dazed, windswept look that Mike pointedly decides not to analyze.

Lucas gives a mocking, crisp salute as they reach the steps. “Officer Sinclair reporting for duty to Major Wheeler. Ready for extraction, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, stand down, soldier,” Mike mutters, rolling his eyes even as he instinctively pulls Will a fraction closer, tightening his grip on Will's hip. “We’re going. Move it.”

“Can’t we stay just a little longer?” Will pouts, the sound muffled against Mike’s collar. He looks up through his bangs, his eyes dark and pleading.

“Yeah, Mike. Just a little longer?” Max mimics, though her version of the pout is sharp and mocking, her eyes glinting with mischief. It’s far less endearing than Will’s.

“No way,” Mike says, his voice regaining some of its usual authority. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll never leave, and I don’t think Stacy will think we’re as cool in the morning light when her parents come home.”

“Boo. Party pooper,” Will grumbles, though he doesn't fight it. He lets himself be steered down the driveway, his steps stumbling into Mike’s as the group follows them toward Nancy’s station wagon.

“Shotgun!” Lucas shouts the second the car is in sight, breaking into a sluggish jog.

“No way,” Mike calls back, not missing a beat as he fumbles the keys out of his pocket. “Will sits in the front.”

“Come on, man! My legs are cramping, I need the legroom,” Lucas protests, hovering by the passenger door. “Pretty please?”

“No. That’s Will’s seat. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, Lucas, give it up. It practically has his name engraved on the dashboard,”

Dustin jeers, sliding into the back seat and pulling Max in after him by her elbow. Mike helps Will into the car, his hands lingering on Will’s shoulders to make sure he’s settled before he leans in. The interior of the car smells like old French fries and Nancy’s perfume, a sharp contrast to the party.

“You alright? Are you cold?” Mike murmurs, his voice dropping.

 

Will sinks into the upholstery, looking up at Mike with a look that is terrifyingly open. “I’m perfect.”

Mike swallows, hard. The word hangs in the air, vibrating against the sudden silence of the car. “Yeah. Yeah, you are,” he breathes.

His mouth moves before his brain can catch up, the confession falling out in a low, rough whisper. Will hums, a small, vibrating sound of contentment as he leans his head back against the headrest. Mike freezes, wondering if the alcohol drowned out his slip of the tongue. As Mike climbs into the driver’s seat and pulls the door shut, the atmosphere stills. The backseat is a chaos of Lucas and Dustin bickering over bullshit, but in the front, the air is thick and still. Mike can feel Will’s eyes on him.

It isn't the hazy, flickering gaze from the dance floor; Will has sobered up just enough for his stare to feel heavy and purposeful. Mike glances over as he shifts the car into reverse, meeting Will’s eyes. The blush of the drink is still painted across Will's cheekbones, but his expression is searching, his lips parted as if he’s waiting for Mike to say it again.

"What?" Mike asks, his voice cracking slightly. Will sighs.

"Drive, Mike," he whispers, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just drive."

“Can you put some music on?” Max called from the backseat, edged so close to Lucas she was practically on his lap.

“Can you put a seatbelt on?” Mike countered as he started the car, but his hand moved to the radio anyway.

Will perked up as the first notes bled out into the air of the car.

Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream she said…

“Oh,” Will breathed, his voice small yet bright. “I love this song.”

Mike turned the radio up.

 

He dropped Dustin off, first. He could’ve dropped Will off then, too, but instead took the turn that led to his and Lucas’ neighbourhood.

“Hey, Mike, you sure you’re sober?” Lucas laughed from behind him.

“Yeah, obviously. Why?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious of Mike’s unnaturally calm voice. “‘Cause you’re normally so strict about the logical ways to drop us all home. It’s always Dustin, Will, and then Max and I.”

“Maybe I feel spontaneous tonight, Lucas. Is that a crime?”

Lucas snorted. “For you? Yeah.”

“Shut up. That was rhetorical.” m

“Shut up. That was rhetorical.”

“That’s so not funny.”

“I thought it was a good impression.” Will teased.

“See, Will liked it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s different.” Mike replied.

Max sighed. “Yeah, Lucas. You know how Mike is. Will’s special.”

Will ducks his head, a bashful smile spreading across his face.

Mike blinks, keeping his eyes on the road. But his thoughts are far from the car. “What do you mean by that?” Mike shot back to Max.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Just, you know. It’s always been you and Will.”

It’s always been you and Will.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Of course.”

“You okay, Mike?” Lucas asks. Mike nods, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to speak. 

It’s always been you and Will.

“Heres - uh, your house. Your house is here.” Mike mumbles as the car idles outside of the Sinclair residence. Max reached out to ruffle Will’s hair, leaning in to whisper something Mike doesn’t quite catch in his ear.

“See you, Wheeler!” She calls before exiting the car. Lucas claps a hand onto Mike’s shoulder and huffs a laugh.

The car door clicked shut, leaving a sudden, ringing quiet in the small cabin.

“Thanks, Mike. Seriously.” Lucas leaned through the window one last time, then turned his attention to the passenger seat. “And thank you for convincing him.”

Before Will could offer a humble shrug, Lucas leaned in. He pressed a quick, grateful kiss to Will’s cheek - a brief, brotherly touch - before pulling back and following Max toward the house.

Mike went rigid. His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned a sharp, porcelain white.

Will didn’t notice the tension beside him. His eyes remained fixed on the Sinclair porch. He watched as Max and Lucas reached the doorway, where Erica’s silhouette stood framed by the hallway light. Lucas didn't pull away; he kept an arm slung over Max’s shoulders, tucking her close. As they walked, he pressed his nose into her temple, murmuring something private into her ear while his free hand idly twirled a stray red curl around his finger.

“I’m so glad they made it out together,” Will murmured, his voice thick with a quiet kind of relief. “Like, even after everything… it’s still them. Lucas and Max.”

The silence that followed was heavy. It wasn't the comfortable quiet they usually shared, but something pointed and sharp.

“Mike?”

Will turned. Mike was already staring at him, as if he was seeing Will for the first time.

“What?” Will’s voice dropped to a whisper. The weight of Mike’s gaze made his nerves jump.

“Nothing,” Mike grunted. He tore his eyes away, focusing on the driveway as he shifted the car into reverse. He backed out of the Sinclairs' lot with a jerk, the tires crunching over the gravel. After a moment of heading down the dark, suburban street, he cleared his throat. “Can we… can we go for a drive?”

Mike didn't say I don't want you to leave me yet. He didn't have to. Will knew what he meant.

“Yeah, Mike,” Will replied. “We can go for a drive.”

They drifted through the winding roads of Hawkins. The radio played at a low hum, beneath the steady rhythm of the pavement. Will stared out the window, his finger tracing aimless circles on his denim-clad knee, his mind lost in a melody he was humming under his breath.

“What was that?”

Will blinked, startled out of his thoughts. Mike’s jaw was set, a hard, rhythmic pulse working in his cheek. He kept his eyes locked on the road ahead.

“What was what?”

“That. What… what Lucas just did.”

Will’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “What? He just kissed my cheek, Mike.” A small, breathless huff of a laugh escaped him. “It’s no big deal.”

Mike offered only a noncommittal grunt, his grip on the wheel never wavering.

Will sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. “I don’t know how you’re going to survive when I actually get a boyfriend, you know.”

The car swerved slightly as Mike’s hands twitched. “I thought we said we weren’t going to talk about New York tonight.”

“I know, but-”

“But since you brought it up, I have been thinking about it. New York.” Mike suddenly veered toward the shoulder, the car jolting to a halt. He killed the engine, and the world went dark and still. “And about what you said about distance.”

“Mike-“

“No, no. Let me speak.” Mike took a ragged breath, turning in his seat to face Will. “When I said I was okay with it before, I was lying. And I don’t like lying to you. The thing is, Will, I want to live with you. I want to do New York with you. I want to do life with you. Not, like, ‘across the hall’ with you, but really with you.”

He was talking faster now, the words tumbling out as if he were afraid they’d be taken back.

“I want to be there when you get in from class and be the first person you complain about your professors to. I want you to get annoyed about the mess on my desk, and I’ll promise to clean it even though we both know I’m lying. I want all of that domestic bullshit with you because it wouldn't feel right with anyone else. Just with you.” Mike leaned closer, his eyes pleading. “And I know you think I’ll get in the way of you dating around, but I swear to God, right now, I won’t. I would never get in the way of your happiness. Will.”

“But you already do, Mike.” Will’s voice was broken, barely a thread of sound.

“What?”

“By saying things like that. You can’t- you can't just say that and expect me to just… move on.”

“Move on from… what?”

Will let out a jagged, bitter laugh. “Holy shit. You seriously don’t get it.”

“No, I do. Just… tell me what it is. I want to make sure you get it, too.”

Will let out a harrowed breath, looking Mike right in the eyes. “Every single day for the past six years has been hell on Earth because of how much I love you, Mike.”

Mike’s mouth opened slightly, his brain seemingly stalling. “What?”

“You want to know why I can’t date other guys with you around? Because I’ll constantly be comparing them to you. And you don’t even realize it. You talk about how you want this life with me, Mike, but you don’t mean it how I need you to mean it. Because you’re not like me. You can’t want me like I want you. I’m just your best friend, and that’s all I ever can be. But you still keep me on a hook instead of just letting me go.”

Tears finally spilled over, hot and tracks against Will’s skin. “Please. Just let me go.”

In the cramped, dark space of the car, something inside Mike finally snapped into place. It was a physical sensation, like a bone setting or a lock clicking home. He looked at Will - really looked at him - and the realization hit him. They weren't like Lucas and Dustin. They were never going to be. He didn't want a best friend. He wanted Will. 

He was in love with him. Maybe he had been for a lifetime.

“Will.”

“Mike, I-“

Mike didn't let him finish. He reached out, his hand sliding to the back of Will’s neck, and pulled him forward.

The kiss was frantic and messy. Will let out a sharp gasp against Mike’s mouth, a sound of pure shock that quickly melted into a desperate, yielding pressure. There was the lingering, sugary taste of party punch and the frantic heat of their breathing. Mike acted on pure instinct, his thumb brushing against Will's jaw as he tried to pull him even closer, wanting to erase every inch of space between them.

Will was the one to pull back. He scrambled against the passenger door, his lips reddened and his chest heaving.

“What the- what the fuck?”

Mike stayed leaned forward, his hand still hovering in the air where Will’s neck had been. He looked dazed, his eyes dark. “I didn’t know how else to… I didn’t have the words, so I just-”

Will’s eyes were wide and misty and shining with tears, and his lips were swollen in a way that made Mike’s gut stir. 

Will bit his lower lip. “Do you really want me?” His voice was small, vulnerable even. Mike leaned in again, his nose brushing Will’s and his voice hoarse. 

“I need you. I love you.” There were tears in Mike’s eyes now, 

“Will you love me in the morning?”

“I can’t do anything else.”

Will’s eyes searched Mike’s, looking for any hint of a cruel joke or a misunderstanding, but he found only raw, terrifying honesty. The silence broke when Will reached out, his fingers trembling as they curled around the nape of his neck, yanking him back in.

The second kiss was nothing like the first. It was certain. Will let out a low, shaky sound into Mike’s mouth, his hands moving up into Mike’s hair as Mike’s hands were firmly settled on Will’s waist. 

The gear shift was in the way. The center console was a barrier. Mike groaned low in his throat, cursing Nancy for having such a cramped car. He cursed himself for thinking of his sister at a time like this. He broke the kiss just long enough to shove the driver's seat as far back as the tracks would allow.

“Come here,” Mike breathed, his voice a command and a plea all at once.

He didn't wait for an answer. Mike reached across, his hands hooking under Will’s arms and hoisting him over the console. Will moved eagerly, his limbs tangling for a second before he was hoisted into Mike’s lap. The steering wheel pressed into Will’s lower back, and the roof of the car felt inches away, but neither of them cared.

Will straddled Mike’s thighs, his knees tucked into the sides of the driver’s seat. The change in perspective was dizzying. For the first time, Will was looking down at Mike, his hands framing Mike’s face, his thumbs sweeping over those sharp cheekbones.

“You’re serious?” Will whispered, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Mike, if you’re not serious, I’ll never-”

“I’m serious,” Mike interrupted, his hands sliding down to rest firmly on Will’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest, so close he could feel Will’s heartbeat. “I’m so serious it’s terrifying.”

Mike pulled him down again, and this time the kiss was slower, deeper. Mike’s hands wandered, tracing the line of Will’s spine through his shirt, while Will’s fingers tangled in the dark curls at the nape of Mike’s neck. Mike’s hands moved down, down to the hem of Will’s shirt before sliding underneath the fabric to settle on Will’s ribs. His tongue was busy, too, mapping every inch of Will’s mouth, savouring the taste of punch and Will. 

“Mike…” The name was a ragged vibration against Mike’s mouth. A low, guttural groan tore from Mike’s throat in response. When Will tried to create even an inch of distance, Mike surged forward, his hands tightening on Will's waist to bridge the gap, chasing the contact like a starving man.

Mike finally understood how some people became cannibals. 

Will’s breath hitched, coming in short, uneven bursts. “I’ve- I’ve never...” he managed, his forehead resting against Mike’s. “I’ve never done this. With anyone.”

Mike froze for a heartbeat, his eyes wide and dark in the dim cabin. “Never?”

“I always hoped…that it’d be you,” Will admitted, his voice barely audible over the low hum of the heater. “I just spent so long convinced it would never actually happen. That I’d never get to have this. Get to have you.”

Mike looked up at Will, his face painted blue from the street lamps. The heat in Mike’s gut stirred again, his pants tightening as he buried his face in Will’s neck, tracing the line of it with his nose. 

“God, Will.” Mike’s voice was a wrecked whisper against Will’s skin. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

In answer, Will shifted. It was an instinctive, primal, heavy movement, his weight settling more firmly into Mike’s lap. The sudden, intense friction drew a sharp, stifled moan from Will’s throat as he sought out the heat between them. “I think,” he panted, his eyes fluttering shut, “I’m starting to get an idea.”

Mike’s focus shifted back to Will’s neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a sharp nip that made Will’s back arch. As Mike’s mouth worked against him, Will’s fingers dug into Mike’s shoulders, his body moving in a slow, desperate search for more. He needed more of Mike, and that fact made Mike’s head swim. 

“You really need me, don’t you?” Mike murmured, and Will nodded his head feverishly.

“So - fuck - so badly.” Will whined, his hot breath ghosting against Mike’s ear as he rutted against Mike’s hips, each movement more insistent than the last. “For so goddamn long.” 

Mike pulled back from Will’s neck, his eyes fixed on the blooming dark mark left by his teeth, and the sight mixed with the feeling of Will’s weight on his lap made him positively dizzy. A sudden urge overtook him. He wanted to feel more.

The hot palms of his hands slid from Will’s waist down, down, and slipped under his jeans and underwear, gripping the curve of Will’s ass so tightly it was sure to leave marks. He kneaded the flesh, which was soft and smooth under his touch. Will’s back arched as he threw his head back in a moan, inadvertently backing his ass further into Mike’s grasp. Mike seized the opportunity to attach himself again to Will’s neck, this time focusing on the dip where his neck met his shoulder. He nipped at it as Will thread his fingers through Mike’s hair, giving it a sharp tug that sent a jolt of electricity through Mike. He liked that.

He captured Will’s mouth with his own again, both of their lips slick with saliva. It was disgusting, really, but so filthy that Mike couldn’t help himself. He sank his teeth into Will’s pillowy bottom lip as he dug his hands further into the swell of Will’s ass.

“God, these fuckin’-“ Mike’s voice was hoarse with frustration. He couldn’t stand having the fabric of Will’s jeans between them any longer. He slid his hands out, which was met by a dissatisfied whimper from Will.

“Mike-“

“I know, baby, just - fuck - give me a second.” The petname slipped out so naturally Mike didn’t even notice as he fumbled with the button of Will’s jeans, sliding the zipper down. “Need you out of these.” 

Will’s bare thighs were soon pressed against Mike’s legs, Mike’s pale hands gripping the tan skin there. Will blushed as Mike looked up at him, his breathing laboured. Will’s hair was a mess, his lips were swollen, his eyes glassy and needy. He was a vision of temptation crafted solely for Mike. 

“You’re so beautiful, Will.” Mike breathed, his voice low. “Like an angel. My angel.” He clarified. Will giggled at that, his forehead dropping to meet Mike’s.

“Are you sure you didn’t have anything to drink tonight, Mike?”

“I’ve never been more sober in my life.” Mike promised, his hands reaching back again to find Will’s ass again as his lips captured Will’s in another kiss. 

One of Will’s hands slid from Mike’s hair, down his torso, and landed on his still-clothed dick. Will began to palm at it, his hand small against the expanse of Mike’s lap, as his hips continued to grind.

“Mike, please-“ Will’s voice was high pitched and breathless. He was begging. He buried his face in the crook of Mike’s neck as Mike’s head fell back against the headrest as Will began to fumble with Mike’s pant buttons.

“Will, you don’t have to-“

“I want to.” Will whispered as he slid down Mike’s body and came to rest between his knees, the space cramped by the steering wheel. Mike reached a hand out and rested it on the crown of Will’s head, as if to shield him.

“You might hit your head down there.” Mike murmured, smoothing down Will’s hair. Will leaned forward, resting his cheek on Mike’s knee as his hands worked Mike’s pants down his legs with a touch that was almost reverent.

“You’ve got me.” Will whispered, almost to himself, in a voice so small and trusting it made Mike’s heart melt. 

Mike’s pants finally hit his ankles, and Will paused for a moment, and just…took it in. His eyes flicked up to Mike’s, then back down to his dick which was still covered by his boxers.

“Are we really doing this?” Will murmured, his eyes meeting Mike’s again. Mike blinked.

“Do you…do you still want to?” 

“More than anything.” Will replied. He swallowed, hard, before leaning into Mike. He trailed a line along the shape of Mike’s dick with his nose, which earned him a low groan from Mike. He ghosted down to the tip, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses on the fabric. He had sobered up from the punch, but now he was completely intoxicated by the scent of Mike. It was almost overwhelming - the warmth, the smell, how badly Will’s body ached for Mike. His hands came up to rest on Mike’s pale thighs as his face pressed deeper into Mike. He let out a shuddering breath that sounded more like a whine, his glazed eyes looking up at Mike.

It was the filthiest thing Mike had ever seen, his dick so hard it was painful. 

“Will,” Mike breathed, his voice ragged, “stop- stop teasing me.” He said, low and strained and clinging onto control.

Will slipped his fingers into Mike’s waistband and slowly, painstakingly slipped his boxers down. 

Mike’s dick sprung up, long and thick, the tip grazing his navel. Mike looked down at Will, the dim light almost casting a shadow of Mike’s length onto Will’s face, a visual which made a heat coil in Mike’s stomach. Will reached out a tentative finger, barely grazing the tip with a feather-like touch. Mike let out a strangled groan as Will’s finger traced from tip to base. 

Mike let out a frustrated, pained huff. His hand, still resting on the back of Will’s head, pulled Will in ever so slightly. The other wrapped around his own base, bringing the tip to Will’s plush lips. Will looked up at him through his lashes, his gaze dreamy, almost worshipful. Mike ran the tip of his dick along Will’s lips, coating it in a mix of his own and Will’s saliva as Will whined.

“Do you think you can take it all?” Mike murmured, his voice dropping into something more predatory. More dominant. Will nodded, his throat bobbing. That didn’t satisfy Mike. “Use your words, baby.” 

Will bit his lip, holding back a moan from Mike’s words. It was embarrassing, really, just how into Mike he was. “Yeah. I can take it all. I want to. Please, Mike - please.” His voice was barely a breath, his lips moving against Mike’s tip in a way that sent shockwaves through Mike’s nerves. Mike let out a low groan. 

He guided his dick into Will’s mouth, past his lips, until he was almost halfway in - the most of him Will could take. Feeling Mike so heavy and warm on his tongue made Will moan, the sound muffled but the vibration felt throughout Mike’s body. Mike stroked the shell of Will’s ear with his thumb, his other hand coming to his cheek to brush away the tears that had gathered in the corner of his eyes. He wouldn’t tell Will that the sight of his tears turned him on more than anything else - he’d save it for the next time. Because there would be a next time. 

Mike’s hand tightened in Will’s hair as he watched, fascinated, as Will’s jaw worked to accommodate the sheer breadth of him, the flushed skin of Will’s cheeks stretching taut. Every time Will tried to swallow, the muscles in his throat constricted around Mike, a rhythmic, pulsing pressure that made Mike’s head thud back against the headrest and his eyes roll back in ecstasy.

Will was making those small, pathetic sounds again - high-pitched, muffled whines that vibrated against Mike’s skin. He looked small, huddled between Mike’s knees, his entire world narrowed down to the heat and the weight filling his mouth.

“That’s it,” Mike rasped, his eyes fluttering shut for a second as Will tentatively tried to bob his head forward, taking a fraction of an inch more. “Just like that, Will. Good boy.” 

The praise seemed to break - or heal - something in Will. A fresh wave of tears spilled over, tracks of wetness shining on his cheeks in the blue light. He leaned into the contact, his tongue sweeping frantically around the underside of Mike’s length, trying to taste every bit of him, his nose grazing Mike’s abdomen. The slick, wet sounds filled the quiet space of the car, punctuated by Will’s hitching breaths. He was struggling, his nose bumping against the dark, curling hair at Mike's base, but he didn't pull away. He just whined harder, a desperate, pleading noise.

Mike reached down, his thumb finding the corner of Will’s mouth, stretching it just a little wider to help him. The sight was ruinous - Will’s eyes were glazed and rolling back, his face flushed a deep, messy red. He looked completely wrecked, a fragile, shaking mess that Mike had systematically unraveled.

“You’re so tight,” Mike groaned, his hips giving a small, involuntary twitch upward. “You’re shaking, angel. Do you want me to stop?”

Will shook his head violently, his hair rubbing against Mike’s stomach. He choked out a babbling, wet sound that was meant to be a no, his fingers clutching Mike’s knees so hard his knuckles turned white. He wanted this; he wanted the ache in his jaw and the way Mike was looming over him, dark and dominant. He surged forward again, forcing himself to take more, his throat hitting the head of Mike's dick with a blunt, heavy thud that sent a jolt of pure electricity through Mike’s spine.

“Shit-“ Mike gasped, his hips bucking up and off of the seat, sliding his dick further down Will’s throat, as far as it could go. Something in Mike snapped. He moved both hands to frame Will’s face, holding it in place. “Is- is this okay?” He stuttered, his face red and eyes needy. Will looked up at him, and slowly slid Mike out of his mouth, just enough to talk.

“Use me.”

And that was all Mike needed. His hands, clamped like a vice around Will’s face, pulled Will towards him. Mike didn’t wait. He guided Will back onto him with a sudden, forceful shove, the thick length of him sliding home until Will’s face was pressed flush against Mike. A wet, choked sound died in Will’s throat as his eyes went wide, the sheer depth of the intrusion forcing his head back. Mike’s rhythm became a frantic, driving force, desperate for the feel of Will’s mouth around him. 

The car was silent save for the low hum of the radio, the rhythmic, slapping sound of skin hitting skin and the ragged, desperate way Will tried to pull air through his nose. Mike’s thumbs pressed into the hollows of Will’s cheeks, keeping him anchored as he surged forward again and again. He was relentless, his movements sharp and demanding, carving out space where there was none. Every time Mike hit the back of Will's throat, a high, strangled vibration shuddered through Will’s entire frame, his fingers digging frantically into Mike’s quads.

“Look at me,” Mike commanded, his voice a low, jagged grunt.

Will struggled to obey, his vision swimming and dark, but he forced his eyes upward. He looked completely undone - face damp with tears and saliva, his expression a mask of dazed, helpless love. Seeing him like that, pliant and willing, pushed Mike over the edge. The heat in Mike’s gut flared into a blinding, white-hot pressure.

He didn't slow down. If anything, he moved faster, his hips slamming into Will with a raw, bruising intensity. Mike let out a long, pained moan, his fingers clutching Will’s hair as he buried himself one last time, deep and unyielding. He held him there, his body jerking as he spent himself, the two of them tangled together in the heavy, humid silence of the car.

“Holy shit-“ Mike’s voice broke off into a moan, loud and uninhabited. He kept Will pressed against him for a moment before pulling his dick out from Will’s mouth, a string of saliva connecting his tip to Will’s lips like a web before it dissolved. Will was panting, and bruises around his lips were already starting to blossom. Mike swallowed, hard, as he watched his own cum drip down Will’s chin. He reached out, swiping his thumb along Will’s bottom lip - just has he had earlier in the night - cleaning Will’s mouth before wiping his hand onto his shirt. Will gave a small, crooked smile, so threaded with adoration that it hurt to look at. Mike sighed. 

“Did I…did I make you feel good?” Will whispered, and Mike’s heart lurched.

“Yeah, baby.” Mike murmured, wiping at the stream of Will’s tears on his cheeks. Will leaned into the touch, nuzzling against Mike’s hand. Then, Mike was struck with a bolt of guilt. He had an angel on his knees in front of him, and he was letting him go untouched? That was probably a sin, if you read between the lines of the Bible.

“Get in the back.” Mike choked out. Will blinked, once, his face flushing even more at the directness of Mike’s order. He climbed over Mike, settling himself along the middle of the car. Mike soon followed, positioning himself above Will, his forearms straining to hold his weight.

Mike swallowed, his eyes raking down Will’s body. “Flip over.” he said. “Onto your stomach.”

Will complied, and Mike’s lips quirked into a smirk. “You’re so good for me, baby. Follow my instructions so well.” 

Will huffed, his face resting on his crossed forearms. Mike traced a finger down his spine, stopping at the waistband of his boxers, then slowly over the cleft of his ass, applying a pressure that made Will’s breath hitch. 

He circled the fabric above Will’s hole as Will’s back arched, a quivering moan escaping him as Mike pressed harder.

“I love this ass.” Mike whispered as he leaned down, bracketing Will’s hips with his forearms. His eyes flicked to Will’s, then back to Will’s ass. He reached down, his nose grazing the base of Will’s spine as he caught the waistband of Will’s boxers in his teeth. Will gasped as Mike slowly, methodically, dragged his boxers down, exposing him fully. Mike’s hands pulled them the rest of the way, sliding them down Will’s legs and off his ankles and throwing them somewhere in the front of the car. “I love these thighs.” He punctuated his statement by nipping at the crease where Will’s thighs met his backside, earning a sharp breath from Will. 

Mike didn't give him a second to recover before his hands were there, hooking into the sides of Will’s hips and pulling him back, forcing Will’s lower half to rise as he was dragged toward the edge of Mike's reach. Mike’s face was inches from the tan, trembling skin, and he didn't hesitate; he buried his face between the cheeks, his tongue sweeping in a broad, hot stroke from the base of Will's tailbone down to the tight hole.

Will let out a sound that wasn't even a moan, really - it was a startled, high-pitched yelp that cut off into a frantic pant. He felt Mike’s nose nudging and searching, the heat of Mike’s breath ghosting over the sensitive skin before his tongue returned, sharper and more insistent this time. Mike was tasting him with a frantic, unhinged hunger, his mouth working against the soft flesh as if he were trying to devour him whole.

“How- how do you know how to do this?” Will panted, the words coming out before he knew it, Will’s hazy, overheated mind letting it slip as he gripped the car’s upholstery until his nails dug into the fabric. Mike was focused, his tongue lapping at the entrance with a rhythmic, steady pressure that made Will’s vision swim with white spots. He was using his teeth to nip at the surrounding skin, his hands squeezing the cheeks to spread him wider, exposing every hidden inch to the cool air and Mike’s scorching mouth.

Mike pulled back slightly, and Will whined from the loss of contact. “I, uh. I read up on it.” Mike’s voice was low. Will looked over his shoulder, incredulous.

“You read up on how to eat a guy’s ass?”

“Just in case you ever needed tips.”

Will’s head slumped down again. He’d remind Mike of how totally weird that was later, when Mike’s tongue wasn’t working miracles on him. Mike dived back in, hungry and impatient. 

“Mike- oh god, Mike,” Will whimpered, his head thumping down onto his arms. He felt completely exposed, his body twitching with every wet, sloppy slide of Mike’s tongue. He had never imagined it would feel like this - so heavy and invasive and perfect. Mike sounded like he was starving, a low, guttural growling noise vibrating in his chest that Will could feel through the contact of their bodies.

Mike’s thumbs pressed into the dimples of Will’s lower back, anchoring him as he delved deeper, his tongue flickering against the tight ring of muscle in a way that made Will’s entire body go rigid. A high, broken whine spilled out of Will’s mouth, his hips jerking forward in a desperate attempt to escape the intensity, but Mike’s grip was a vice. He wasn't done. He was just getting started, his mouth moving with a confident, predatory grace that suggested he’d been practicing this in his head for years.

The feeling of Mike’s tongue, relentless and invasive and so deep inside him, finally snapped the last thread of Will’s control. His back arched into a rigid, trembling bow, his fingers clawing uselessly as a high, frantic keening sound tore from his throat. 

“Mike-Mike, wait, I’m-I can’t-” Will scrambled for words, but they came out as a broken, babbling stream of nonsense. “Too much, please, it’s too much-it’s everything, you’re everything-oh god, please-“

He was shaking, his hips bucking in a clumsy, desperate rhythm that only fed Mike’s hunger. The world reduced down to the wet, slapping sound of Mike’s mouth and the white-hot pressure building behind Will’s navel. When the release finally hit, it was violent and messy and left Will’s vision blurred. He collapsed forward, his forehead hitting the seat with a dull thud, his voice trailing off into a series of soft, pathetic whimpers. He was still coming, his muscles twitching in a long, drawn-out aftershock, while he continued to mumble Mike’s name against his own skin like a prayer. 

Mike kissed Will’s ass again, and then his tailbone, and moved his way up Will’s body to press a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of Will’s ear, moving Will’s body so he was lying flat on his back. Will’s legs, still shaking, slowly moved up and hooked around Mike’s waist, Mike’s tie crooked and dangling down. 

“Take your- take your shirt off.” Will breathed. Mike, obviously, complied, undoing his tie painstakingly slowly, then moving on to methodically unbutton his shirt. Will let out a low whine of frustration. 

“What’re you so desperate for, baby?” Mike murmured as he shucked his shirt off his shoulders.

“Need to clean the seats.” Will’s chest was heaving, his eyes wide and impatient. “Nancy-“

“Is that seriously what you’re thinking about right now?” Mike murmured, a laugh playing on his lips as he began to remove Will’s t-shirt. Will’s brow furrowed, his eyes tracking down Mike’s now fully exposed body.

“Well…” His quiet voice trailed off as he ran a finger down Mike’s torso. “Maybe not anymore.” He admitted with a shy smile. Mike smirked, zeroing in again on Will’s neck and collar bones, which were littered with his marks. The sight was addictive, one that Mike could get used to for the rest of his life. 

“Has anyone ever told you how goddamn sexy you are?” Mike whispered against Will’s skin, feeling Will’s legs tighten around him, his dick brushing against Mike’s in a way that made Mike have to shut his eyes in order to not cum right there. Will curved his neck, exposing it to Mike’s teeth, gasping as Mike sank into it. 

“Just you.” He stuttered, his hands clawing at Mike’s back, pulling him closer.

“Good.” Mike replied, his voice like gravel. “If anyone else ever did, I’d fucking kill them.” 

All the blood in Will’s body rushed to his dick at that, his head dizzying as he gasped, his head hitting the seat with a dull thud. Mike’s lips trailed down from his neck to Will’s chest, sucking and biting a path to his navel. He stopped, resting his chin on Will’s stomach, looking up at Will with dark, shining eyes. 

“You know what’s funny?” He murmured. Will’s hand moved from his back to his hair, burying his fingers in Mike’s soft curls. “This would’ve happened eventually.”

Will stilled. “What would’ve?”

“Us.” Mike gestured between himself and Will, his voice small, almost young. “Someone would’ve knocked some sense into me at some point.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Will’s lips quirked into a soft, almost sad smile. “But I would’ve waited anyway.”

“You would’ve?”

“I mean, I would’ve dated around. But I was always going to be yours, Mike.” Will replied. “I don’t think I was built to be anyone else’s.”

Mike didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He could barely even think. He surged up, crowding Will against the car door as he kissed him again, his tears mingling with Will’s as he pulled him closer, deeper. He wrapped his lips around Will’s tongue, sucking it, letting saliva drip from their mouths down Will’s chin and clavicles. 

Mike’s head was spinning, a heavy, heady fog clouding his mind as he pulled back from the kiss, the silver thread of their saliva glistening in the dim, blue-tinted light of the cabin. He looked down at Will, whose chest was still rising and falling in shallow, jagged heaves, and then his gaze dropped to where Will’s release had pooled across the pale, smooth skin of his stomach. 

Without a word, Mike reached down, his fingers skimming over Will’s hip before dipping into the cooling heat of the fluid. He swiped two fingers through it, mixing the slickness with the dampness still coating his own chin from their kiss. Will watched him, his eyes glazed and wide, a thin, high-pitched hitch catching in his throat as Mike brought his hand back up, showing him the wet sheen on his knuckles.

“You’re so sensitive,” Mike rasped, his voice a low, vibrating growl that seemed to settle deep in Will’s bones. He shifted, his weight heavy and solid between Will’s spread thighs, and reached down to find the tight heat he had just been devouring with his mouth moments ago

Will’s breath hitched into a sharp rhythm as Mike pressed the pad of his middle finger against him. The slick mix of saliva and Will’s own seed made the contact wet and audible in the quiet of the car. Mike didn't rush; he watched Will’s face, tracing the way his eyebrows knit together and his pretty lips parted in a silent, desperate O. Slowly, with a deliberate, agonizing pressure, Mike pushed the tip of his finger inside.

“Mike - oh, fuck,” Will gasped, his head thumping back against the seat. His fingers, still tangled in Mike’s dark curls, tightened, pulling with a frantic, uncoordinated strength. He was shaking again, a deep tremor that started in his knees and bled into his core as Mike’s finger slid in, bottoming out against the tight muscle. 

“You’re so small, Will. So goddamn tight for me,” Mike murmured, his thumb rubbing circles against the base of Will’s tailbone to keep him grounded. He began to move his finger in a slow, dredging stroke, feeling the way Will’s body tried to both clamp down and yield at the same time. Will was babbling again, a soft, incoherent stream of please, please, please that made Mike’s pulse thud a violent rhythm against his ribs.

Mike dipped his hand back to Will's stomach, gathering more of the slickness before adding a second finger. He pushed in slowly, the friction creating a wet, squelching sound that made Will’s face flush a ruinous, dark red. Will’s legs hooked tighter around Mike’s waist, his heels digging into Mike’s back as he tried to pull him closer, trying to force the fullness deeper.

“I need to make room for me, baby,” Mike whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of Will’s ear as he began to scissor his fingers, stretching the entrance with a methodical, predatory focus. “I don't want to hurt you. I want you to take all of me.”

Will’s response was a broken, high-pitched whine, his hips jerking upward in a clumsy search for more. He looked completely wrecked - dazed, damp with sweat, and utterly pliant. He was nodding feverishly, his hair a mess against the upholstery, his entire world narrowing down to the stretching, burning fullness of Mike’s fingers preparing him for something even heavier. 

“I’m ready, Mike, please -“ He gasped, his nails digging into Mike’s back. “I need more. I need you.” 

“I know, baby. And you’re being so patient for me. So good.” Mike’s voice was a caress, soothing Will as he continued to work his fingers inside of him. 

Slowly, he removed his fingers from Will, and Will’s breath hitched, feeling empty and cold. Mike straightened his back, leaning to the front of the car.

“There should be some - here.” Mike pulled out a condom from the glove compartment, his ears pink. “Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

Will smiled. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Your dork.” Mike murmured, and Will knew he meant it. 

Mike’s hands were shaking, a fine, frantic tremor that made the crinkle of the foil wrapper sound deafening in the heavy silence of the backseat. He caught the edge with his teeth, tearing it open, his eyes never leaving Will’s. Will was a mess - legs spread, chest heaving, his skin painted in those cool blue shadows - and the sight of him waiting, open and expectant, made Mike’s heart hammer a violent rhythm against his ribs.

He rolled the latex down, the motion awkward and hurried, his breath catching as he felt the sheer weight and heat of his own pulse. As soon as he was ready, he moved back into the space between Will’s thighs, his knees bracketed by Will’s shaking legs. He settled his weight, the head of his dick finding that wet, readied entrance, and for a second, he just breathed, his forehead dropping against Will’s.

“Will,” Mike rasped, his voice breaking. “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me to stop if-”

“Don’t stop,” Will interrupted, a sharp, desperate command. He reached down, his fingers curling around Mike’s forearms, pulling him forward. “Don’t stop, Mike. Please.”

Mike didn't. He surged forward with a slow, heavy deliberation, burying himself in one long, uncompromising thrust.

The air left Mike’s lungs in a violent, ragged gasp. He went rigid, his arms locking as he felt the way Will’s body clamped down around him. Shit.

“Fuck - Will,” Mike choked out, his eyes flying open, wide and blown-out with shock. “You’re so-God, you’re so tight. I can’t-I can barely move.”

Will’s head hit the seat with a dull thud, his eyes rolling back as he took the full length of him. A high, strained whine whistled through his nose, but instead of pulling away, he did the opposite. His heels dug into the small of Mike’s back, and his hips gave a small, instinctive upward tilt, grinding his own heat against the base of Mike’s dick.

The friction was agonizingly perfect. Mike let out a pained, guttural sound, his teeth grazing his bottom lip as he forced himself to stay still, letting Will’s body adjust to the length. But Will was impatient, his breath coming in short, needy bursts as he shifted again, a slow, rotating grind that forced a jagged moan from Mike’s throat.

“Wait, wait,” Mike groaned, his fingers digging into the upholstery on either side of Will’s head. “I’m gonna-I’m gonna lose it if you do that.”

“Then move,” Will asked, his voice a broken, breathless whisper. He looked up at Mike through his lashes, his face flushed and wanton, his expression a dazed mix of pain and worship. “Move, Mike. I want to feel you move.”

Mike didn't need to be told twice. He pulled back, nearly all the way out, before slamming home again with a bruising, desperate intensity. The sound of their bodies meeting was a wet, heavy slap that echoed in the car, followed by the sharp, broken hitch in Will’s breath. Will met him halfway, his hips bucking up to catch the force of every thrust, his body seeking out the friction as if he were trying to disappear into Mike completely.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. 

Will clawed at Mike’s back, leaving red streaks that stood out against the pale muscle there. 

“You’re right.” Mike groaned, the sound coming from low in his throat. “You really were built for me.” 

He became more forceful, then, his hips snapping against Will’s, chasing the high they both so desperately wanted. He slid in and out of Will so perfectly, bottoming out and then thrusting back in with a hunger that didn’t feel human. 

Mike was lost in it, his moans loud and breath hot against Will’s ear, when Will pushed him back slightly.

“Mike, wait, wait-“

Mike pulled back, his eyes searching Will’s for any sign of discomfort or distress.

“You okay? Am I- is it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Will bit his lip, shaking his head. “I want to be on top.” He whispered. He pushed his hips forward, rolling them over so Mike was sitting on the car bench, Will hovering above his lap. Will’s hands were bracketed on either side of Mike’s shoulders, Mike’s hands coming to rest on the tan swell of Will’s backside, gripping it, kneading it. 

Will’s eyelashes fluttered closed as he sank slowly, slowly down onto Mike’s cock, his head thrown back in pleasure as a whine escaped his lips. 

Mike groaned again, his grip on Will’s cheeks tight. “Holy shit.” 

In his daze, Mike caught what was on the radio. 

One look at you and I can’t disguise, I’ve got…hungry eyes…

He would’ve laughed at the cliche if Will didn’t feel so goddamn good. 

I can feel the magic between you and I…

Will panted into Mike’s open mouth, filling it with moans as he moved a slow, steady rhythm against Mike’s hips. 

It wasn’t enough for Mike. He needed to see Will unravel again. He shifted, slumping down, digging his fingers deeper into Will’s soft flesh. Will stuttered a gasp as Mike grabbed his hips, lifting him up, before slamming him back down, meeting him with a thrust. 

“Mike!” Will moaned as Mike continued to bounce him, Mike’s own hips snapping up as he brought Will down with a primal, animalistic force. The sounds Will is pulling from Mike’s throat can’t be described as anything other than filthy and obscene, desperate huffs that accompany the slap of skin and wet thrusts like a porn orchestra. Will was no better composed, his head thrown back, his whimpers filling the car. 

Will moved his hand from Mike to the car window, which was fogged with condensation, to steady himself as he began to writhe against Mike, his body getting more and more sensitive. Mike continued to bounce him with one arm, the other coming to Will’s front to wrap around his sensitive cock. Will gasped as Mike began to jerk it in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck- Mike- fuck!” 

“I’ve got you, baby. You know I do.” Mike groaned against Will’s ear, nipping at his earlobe. “I always have.”

He thrust upwards, hard, and Will broke all over again. He moaned as he came, his release covering his lower stomach and Mike’s fist. Mike fucked him through his orgasm, not letting up for a second. He was greedy, now - greedy for the feel of Will’s hole around him. 

“Will, baby -“

“Take it.” Will’s voice was barely a breath, so fucked-out that Mike wondered if he remembered his own name. “Take what you want.” 

Mike flipped their position, pulling out momentarily to press Will onto his stomach, pinning him there with Mike’s own chest. The car was cramped and Will was spent, but Mike was hungry, and he wasn’t going to let a silly thing like space keep his dick from Will’s hole. 

He leaned on his forearms as he slid back inside Will again, his pace punishing and hard. Will pulsed around him as Mike bit deep into his shoulder. 

“So-“ Thrust, “Fuckin’-“ Thrust, “Perfect.” Mike grunted. Will responded with a keening mewl, muffled by the upholstery of the car bench. 

His rhythm was frantic, Mike’s hands moving to Will’s hips, forcing him to meet his every thrust as he drove forward with an unforgiving speed. Mike’s vision blurred, the blue streetlights streaking into static. It was too much - the feel of Will, the sounds of him, how he looked writhing and blushing underneath Mike. 

“Will, I’m - fuck.” Mike’s voice broke with pleasure as his hips snapped forward, the fire in his gut finally flaring to its peak as he thrust one last time, spilling his cum into the latex. His head fell forward, in between Will’s shoulderblades as Will gasped, feeling Mike’s heat spill inside him. Mike’s chest heaved against Will’s back, yet he pressed slow, soft kisses to the nape of Will’s neck, sweat dripping down from his forehead. He closed his eyes and just breathed in the scent of Will and their sex, inhaling it like a drug. 

“So pretty.” Mike’s voice was a soft vibration against skin, punctuated by a lingering kiss. “My angel.” Another kiss followed, slower this time. “I love you.”

He murmured the words against the sensitive line of Will’s neck. Will let out a shaky giggle, the sound fluttering in the cramped space of the car. He reached back, his fingers searching until they tangled in Mike’s damp, messy curls, pulling him just a little closer.

They lay like that for a long time, the only sound was the steady rhythm of their breathing and the hum of the radio. Eventually, the reality of their surroundings began to creep back in. Mike shifted, stretching his arm toward the front of the car to fish Will’s discarded boxers off the floorboards.

“Where the hell are we even parked?” Will asked, his voice still a bit breathless as he looked out the fogged-up windows at the dark silhouettes of the trees and the deep blue of the street lights. 

Mike offered a casual shrug, tugging the fabric back toward him. “Hopefully nowhere Hopper can see.”

Will winced, his expression shifting into a flat stare. He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling of the car. “Don’t bring my dad up, please. It’s a total mood killer.”

“Right, sorry. My bad.”

Will shifted, glancing down at the state of the interior. “So, uh, the car seats-”

“Yeah, I’ll probably have to pay to get them cleaned,” Mike said. His voice was low and distinctly smug as he looked at Will. “Worth it, though.”

Will felt heat creep up his neck that had nothing to do with the temperature in the car. “So… what now?”

“Like, immediately now, or like…?” Mike trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“Both.”

“Well, immediately now, I’m gonna get you dressed,” Mike began, ticking points off in his head. “Then I’ll bring you home, help you clean up, and then we’re gonna go to sleep.”

Will watched him, his hand still resting tentatively near Mike’s shoulder. “You’ll stay the night?”

The smugness flickered, replaced by a momentary flash of hesitation. “I - uh, I mean, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Will said, his voice dropping to a quiet, honest plea. “Please. Stay.”

The drive back was quiet, with Will back in the passenger seat and Mike driving slowly, careful of any bumps in the road, his hand anchored firmly on Will’s thigh. Will’s head was slumped back in the seat, his gaze warm and fixed on Mike’s profile, fingers trailing patterns on the back of his hand. 

The tires crunched over the gravel as they finally pulled up to the cabin. The porch light was harsh, yellow against the dark woods, perfectly framing Hopper’s silhouette. He was standing there like a statue, waiting. Will let out a long, low groan that seemed to vibrate through the entire car.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“What do we do?” Mike asked, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“What - we get out of the car, Mike. And you don’t say anything. Just let me handle it.”

“Right. Okay. No talking. Got it.”

They climbed out of the car, and Will started up the wooden steps of the porch with Mike trailing closely behind him. Mike kept a hand loosely wrapped around Will’s elbow to keep him steady as they approached the man at the door.

Hopper was dressed in his usual flannel pajama pants and a white vest, his arms folded tightly across his massive chest. He didn't move as they reached the top step.

“Where’ve you been?” Hopper asked, his voice gravelly and dangerously calm.

“I - we - were... at the afterparty,” Will stammered, trying to keep his eyes level.

“The afterparty. Right.” Hopper’s gaze didn't flicker.

“It’s true, sir. We-”

“Wheeler,” Hopper cut him off, his voice dropping an octave but his eyes still on Will. “Kid, I’m not even going to look at you. Because if I do, you’re not seeing New York, and I’m seeing the inside of a prison cell. You aren’t even here to me. You don't exist.”

Mike swallowed hard, his hand dropping from Will's elbow. “Right. Sorry.”

Hopper shifted his attention, pointing a thick finger directly at Will. “You. Get to bed. Your mom is going to have some choice words for you in the morning, I’m sure of that.”

Will lingered for a second, glancing back at Mike and then at the dark driveway. “Can Mike stay? It’s way too late for him to drive back home.”

“Who’s Mike? There’s no Mike here. I don’t see any Mike. As far as I’m concerned, Mike is safely at home in his own bed.”

The tension broke just enough for Will to breathe. “Night, Dad,” he murmured, heading for the door.

“Night, Mr-”

“Come on.” Will didn't let Mike finish. He reached back, grabbed Mike by the wrist, and pulled him quickly into the safety of the house.

Once the front door clicked shut, the heavy silence of the cabin was immediately replaced by their frantic whispering. Will didn't stop until they were down the hall and safely inside his bedroom, the door muffled by the wood.

“What happened to no talking?” Will hissed, spinning around to face Mike.

“I’m sorry! I cracked under the pressure!” Mike’s hands flew up in a frantic gesture, his voice a strained, hushed pitch.

“There was no pressure!” Will threw his head back, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. “There was literally zero pressure! He was ignoring you! He was actively pretending you were a ghost!”

“That’s the pressure!” Mike whispered back, pacing the small patch of carpet between the bed and the desk. “The silence? The pointing? He looks like he could snap a telephone pole in half with his bare hands, Will. I felt like if I didn't say something, I was going to combust.”

Will sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes. “He told you that if he looked at you, he’d go to jail. That was your cue to be invisible, not to try and say goodnight.”

Mike slumped against the doorframe, letting out a long, shaky breath. “I just wanted to be polite.”

“Polite,” Will repeated, a small, tired smile finally tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well.” Mike walked over, sitting down heavily beside him. “At least I’m an idiot who gets to stay the night. Here. With you.”

Will leaned his head against Mike’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “Don't get too comfortable. You still have to face my mom at breakfast.”

Mike groaned, sinking lower into the mattress. “Right. Maybe I should just climb out the window now.”

“Stay,” Will murmured, grabbing the hem of Mike’s shirt to keep him grounded. “I’ll protect you.”

“That’s usually my job.” Mike was quiet for a moment, before he whispered; “You know what tonight is, right?”

Will smiled. “Graduation?”

Mike rolled his eyes fondly as he caught Will’s hand. “Well, yeah, but what else?”

“I don’t know, Mike. Tell me.”

Mike pressed a kiss to the back of Will’s hand, his dark eyes boring into Will’s hazel ones. “The start of forever. You and I. A whole lifetime of loving each other.”

“That’s so cheesy.” Will whispered, though tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. 

“It’s true.” Mike shrugged, leaning forward to bump his nose against Will’s. “And I’m gonna make sure you feel it. Every single day.”

 

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the cabin, casting a soft, hazy glow across the room. It was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds in the woods and the low, steady sound of Will’s breathing.

Mike stirred slowly, the weight of the previous night’s adrenaline replaced by a heavy, comfortable warmth. He didn't open his eyes right away. It took a moment to remember where he was, but then the scent of the room hit him - paints, old paper, and the faint, clean smell of Will’s shampoo.

He shifted his head on the pillow, blinking his eyes open. Will was still fast asleep beside him, buried deep under a heavy quilt. Only the top of his head and one cheek were visible, his dark hair messy and fanned out against the white pillowcase. He looked incredibly peaceful, his features relaxed in a way they never quite were during the day.

Mike stayed still for a long time, just watching him. He felt a swell of love that made his chest feel tight. He reached out, his movements slow and careful so as not to disturb the silence, and traced the line of Will's jaw with the very tip of his finger. Will didn't wake, but he made a tiny, contented sound in his throat and shifted closer to the warmth of Mike’s hand.

Leaning in, Mike pressed a lingering kiss to the temple of Will’s head. He moved downward, his lips brushing against the bridge of Will's nose, then the apple of his cheek.

“Will,” Mike whispered, his voice thick with sleep. “Hey. Wake up.”

Will let out a soft moan, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to retreat further into the blankets. Mike just leaned over him, propping himself up on one elbow. He began to pepper tiny, light kisses all over Will’s face - his forehead, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth.

“Go away,” Will mumbled, though he was already starting to smile, his voice muffled by the quilt.

“Can’t,” Mike murmured against his skin. “I’m a ghost, remember? I’m haunting you.”

Will finally opened his eyes, the hazel depths clouded with sleep and a gentle, hazy warmth. He looked up at Mike, his gaze softening as he took him in. He reached out a hand, sliding it up Mike’s arm to rest at the back of his neck, his fingers curling into the dark curls that were even more tangled than they had been the night before.

“You’re an annoying ghost,” Will whispered.

“I’m a persistent one.” Mike lowered his head, pressing a proper kiss to Will’s lips - long, slow, and sweet.

When they pulled apart, they stayed close, their foreheads resting against each other. The house was starting to wake up; they could hear the faint clink of a coffee mug in the kitchen and the heavy thud of Hopper’s boots on the floorboards in the next room. But here, in the small space between them, the world felt perfectly still.

Will’s thumb traced the line of Mike’s lower lip. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough,” Mike admitted. He kissed Will’s palm, his eyes never leaving Will’s face. “You ready?”

“No.” Will groaned. “I haven’t even showered.”

“You’re disgusting.” Mike smiled.

Will huffed a laugh, glancing away for a moment. “So,” he started, looking back to Mike with vulnerable eyes. “It’s morning.”

“It is.” Mike confirmed, pulling Will closer. “And I still love you.”

“Oh.” Will’s voice was a whisper as Mike kissed him one last time, before pulling him up. 

“Who knows,” Mike says, fishing around Will’s closet for a tshirt, “maybe we won’t be the most eventful thing at the breakfast table.”

Around ten minutes later, Mike and Will made the shuffle of shame to the kitchen. Joyce was at the fridge, getting orange juice, Hopper was frying bacon, Jonathan was at the table next to -

“Nancy?” Mike blinked. Nancy’s head snapped up, her face flushing. 

“Mike? What’re you doing here?”

“I stayed the night after bringing Will back. What are you doing here?”

Nancy looked to Jonathan, then back at Mike, who was staring at her The Clash t-shirt that was definitely not hers. “Since you hijacked my car, Jonathan offered to bring me to the WSQK. And he offered me a ride back, but I didn’t want him to go out of his way, so I…spent the night too.” 

Jonathan’s eyes were fixed on Will. More specifically, his neck. “Hey, Will, what-“

“I’m pretty cold. Is anyone else cold? I’m, uh, going to put a hoodie on.” Will interrupted, turning on his heel back towards his room, his cheeks burning.

“Will I put a fire on, honey?” Joyce called after Will.

“No, mom! It’s fine!” Will’s voice was strained. Mike moved to sit down at the table, across from Jonathan, whose eyes bore into the top of his head.

“Uh, bacon’s great, Sir.” Mike smiled back at Hopper, who offered a dismissive grunt in return. 

Will came back, sitting in the seat next to Mike, who reached out and tangled his fingers with Will’s. 

They gave each other a glance out of the corners of their eyes, and they knew they’d be okay. Because it was still, and always would be, them - Mike and Will.

“You better not have spilled anything in my car, Mike.” Nancy murmured, throwing a pointed glance in his direction

Shit.