Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wednesday, 2:08 p.m.

Will is pretty sure Mike has never been quiet for this long before. 

Well- quiet is maybe an overstatement. He’s made casual conversation, smiled politely, behaved normally by most usual standards, but in the two hours since Will made his- his announcement , there’s been an oddly thoughtful quality to him. Something is off.

In his defense, it’s probably a lot to take in - that your childhood best friend, with whom you’ve shared sleeping bags and clothes and basically everything else, has been keeping something from you for so long. It’s probably normal to have a bit of an adjustment period, and maybe Will’s just being petty or sensitive about it, but in his defense, the rest of the Party seemed to take it in stride, all things considered. They’d been at the lake, stretched out on their towels and passing a bag of chips around the circle, when Will had decided to say it:

So- um. I’m gay , he’d croaked out, as casually as he could manage. Dustin had choked on a chip. Max had raised her eyebrows. Lucas had squinted like he was trying to decide how to react, and El had cocked her head in mild interest. But after the initial beat of surprised silence, Dustin had grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and Lucas had thanked him for telling them, and Max had started bragging about how she’d always had an inkling, and it had been fine.

Mike hadn’t said anything, though - just sat there contemplatively, watching everyone congratulate Will and smiling along vaguely. Which isn’t a bad reaction, per se, but since it’s the reaction Will had cared about most, it’s a little disconcerting to get next to nothing out of it.

It’s especially obvious now, as he and Mike drop their bikes by the Wheelers’ front porch and Mike wordlessly leads the way inside the house. They’d already had plans to hang out after the lake, and Will’s pretty sure Mike would have canceled or something if he had a problem , but they haven’t spoken at all since splitting off from the rest of the Party on the way home, which is unusual for them. Usually, Mike is talkative to the point of being annoying - not to Will, of course, mainly because he’s in love with him, but still. He’s only ever quiet like this when he’s mulling something over, and Will has no idea what to do about it.

They slip into Mike’s room, both kicking their shoes off in the driveway, and flop down on the bed. Will takes care to arrange himself so that there’s a few inches of distance between their bodies, something he’s usually pretty careful about, but even more so now. Now that he’s revealed his first secret, he has to work twice as hard to keep the other. It’ll be much easier for Mike to figure out that Will likes him now that he knows Will likes boys in general, but Will would at the very least prefer the two realizations not occur on the same day.

Mike is leaning against the wall that the bed is pushed against, legs crossed as he drums his fingers absently against his knee, and Will decides he can’t take it anymore. “Are you okay?” he asks timidly, voice shaking a little. Like he said - he knows Mike probably would have said something if he was mad, or grossed out or anything bad like that, but he also knows that if Mike was one hundred percent cool with it he would have said so by now.

Mike glances at him, faintly surprised. “Hmm? Yeah.”

Will bites his lip, digging his nails into his thigh below where his now-dry swim shorts cling to his legs. He wants to change back into regular clothes, and was planning on maybe asking Mike if he could borrow some, but now he’s afraid to. “Are you sure? You’re being kinda quiet.”

Mike shakes his head, cracking a smile that makes Will’s muscles unclench just a little. “I’m just tired. Sorry.” He looks at him for a beat, then asks, haltingly, “are you okay?”

Will honestly has no idea. “I thought you were mad,” he admits in response, voice low. “About… you know. About me.” He leans back against the wall beside Mike, stretching his legs out so their positions match. He still doesn’t touch. He can’t.

Mike cocks his head at him, expression blank. “No. I was- thinking. Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know,” Will says, swallowing hard. Mike’s ankle twitches, nearly brushing his own. “Friends don’t lie, right? I was…” he shrugs awkwardly. “I mean, I’ve been lying. Technically. For a while.”

This makes Mike smile in earnest, and he knocks his leg against Will’s for real this time, lightly teasing. “I think this is a pretty clear exception to that rule,” he says warmly, and reaches over to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, Will, really. I’m sorry I made you worry, I was just…”

Will stares down at Mike’s hand in his, their fingers locked around each other. He flexes his hand, then squeezes, just to make sure it’s real. “Just what?” he asks, a little absently.

Mike is quiet for a moment, but this time Will recognizes it as the contemplative silence it is. When he glances up, Mike’s brows are drawn together, lips twisted like he’s trying to figure something out. “How do you know?” he asks finally.

Will blinks. “Um. Which part?”

“You know,” Mike mumbles, blushing and glancing away. His hand is still twisted in Will’s, but he gestures vaguely with the other one. “How did you figure out that you were…”

Will arches an eyebrow. “Gay?” he supplies, knocking his shoulder against Mike’s. It feels lighter to say it this time, less clunky on his tongue.

Mike glances back at him, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Will untangles his hand from Mike’s and scoots up on the bed, telling himself it’s just to get into a more comfortable position and not because he’s thinking too hard about the exact series of realizations that led to the conclusion that he definitively liked guys. “Um- I guess I just kind of always felt- off? Like, I knew something was different - mostly because people kept telling me I was a freak - but when you guys all started talking about girls and crushes and all that I started to realize why it didn’t match up.”

Mike swivels to face him, pulling his knees up to his chest and frowning. “So it was just not liking girls, then? That made you realize?”

Will flushes. “I mean- no,” he says, voice wavering a little. “That was just kind of what cemented it. After I was sure that I definitely didn’t like girls the way the rest of you did, I started to notice that a lot of the things you were talking about did line up with how I felt about- about guys.” His blush deepens, and he groans, burying his face in his hands. “God, sorry, this is embarrassing.”

“Hey, no,” Mike says gently, reaching over to gently pull Will’s hands away from his face. Will lets him, pouting miserably at him as their eyes meet again. “I’m not judging you,” Mike promises, “I’m just- curious, I guess.” He bites his lip. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, though.”

Will shakes his head. “No, I mean… it is kind of nice to talk about it,” he says truthfully. “I didn’t like keeping all this stuff from you. I usually tell you everything.” (Almost everything, anyway. But Mike doesn’t need to hear that clarifier.)

Mike laughs. “Yeah, it is kind of weird that I didn’t know. But it’s not your fault.” He pauses, an odd look passing over his face, but it smooths out again just as quickly. “So, um. Have you… liked anyone, then?” 

There it is; the question he’s been dreading having to answer for real. Lucas asked him earlier, in a show of support Will assumes, but he’d just laughed it off and said oh, not really , and deflected with something about Han Solo being his only real crush. He feels bad for lying, but they’d just been joking around, so not too bad. He’d known that eventually people might expect him to find someone he’s interested in, maybe even get a boyfriend a year or two down the line, and he’d been wondering in the back of his mind how he’d deflect away from that. If it’s even possible for him to like someone other than Mike. He’s sure he could feasibly learn to do it, but it’s definitely not a long-term solution. Not when Mike is always around to distract him.

He swallows. “Like I said earlier,” he manages, trying to sound believable even as his chest constricts, “not unless you count Harrison Ford.”

Mike, predictably, doesn’t look like he believes this at all. Sometimes Will wishes Mike didn’t know him quite so well, if only because it makes it twice as hard to lie to him about feelings he shouldn't even have in the first place. “Will, I’m serious ,” Mike whines, poking him in the leg. “It’s fine if you didn’t want to talk about it with the Party yet or whatever, but I know there must have been someone at one point or another, right?” He pokes him again. “Thought we were best friends.”

That’s exactly why I can’t tell you , Will thinks. He scoots away, just by an inch or so. “I have lots of best friends,” he points out, “why would I tell you but not them?”

“Because!” Mike looks actually mildly irritated now, which is really not the direction Will wanted this to go in, but at least he doesn’t seem on the verge of figuring anything out. Not without a lot of help from Will, anyway. “I know we’re all best friends, but, like, it’s different, you know? I tell you things I don’t tell anyone else, you tell me things you don’t tell anyone else.”

“Only because you’re so annoying about it,” Will grumbles, but it makes Mike crack a smile again, which is good. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Mike.” He shrugs, aiming for casual, hoping Mike will follow his lead and just drop it already. “I’m more, like, conceptually gay than gay in practice.”

Mike snorts. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!” Will laughs, as Mike tries to poke him again and he swats his hand away. “Like, sure, in theory it’d be nice to- stop poking me!- it’d be nice to kiss guys or have a boyfriend or whatever, but I don’t see that happening for myself anytime soon.”

Mike abruptly stops trying to tickle him, eyebrows pulling together again like he’s personally offended. “Wait, you’ve never even kissed someone?”

Will rolls his eyes. “You’re unbelievable. Who around here would want to kiss me, Mike?”

“What do you mean?” Mike squawks, crossing his arms. “Why wouldn't someone want to kiss you?”

Will ignores the intense heart palpitations that come with that comment, and instead crosses his arms to mirror Mike. “I didn’t say why , I said who . In case you haven’t noticed, Hawkins isn’t exactly overflowing with a gay subculture.”

“Okay, true,” Mike allows. “But I’m sure there’s someone . You haven’t even tried?”

Will shakes his head, eyes darting away from Mike. He’s thought about trying, of course - there’s one or two guys at school that he sometimes talks to and thinks maybe , but he never follows through with it for fear of being wrong about the signals he’s picked up on, and also, more importantly, they aren’t Mike. “No. That’s scary. And a lot of work.”

“What about in college, though?” Mike presses, and Will’s not sure when in the last five minutes Mike made it his personal mission to help Will find guys to hook up with, but he’s pretty sure it’s a punishment of some kind from the universe. “If you end up in California or a city or something I bet there’s gonna be tons of guys throwing themselves at you.”

Will has to laugh at that, shaking his head. Mike is so earnest about everything. It’s hard to fight him on it for very long. “How would you know?”

“Because,” Mike huffs, frustrated, “you’re a catch.”

“I’m a catch?” Will squeaks, halfway around another laugh, because it’s- it’s objectively ridiculous, the way Mike says it, like it pains him a little but also like it’s so completely obvious, when in fact it isn’t obvious in any way whatsoever. “Since when?”

“Since- I don’t know, Will, you just are! You’re likeable. So people are going to like you,” Mike concludes, a note of finality in his voice. 

Will rolls his eyes. “Okay, let’s assume that’s true. I wouldn't even know what to do if a guy liked me, though.”

Mike stares at him. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe ask him out?”

“That’s what I mean!” Will says, blushing furiously. “Even if someone liked me now, or if I wanted to try to find someone to- date, or whatever, I wouldn't even know what to do.”

Mike cocks his head, looking him up and down contemplatively. “For which part?”

“Any of it.” Will shrugs, embarrassed. “I don’t know how to ask someone out, or how to act on a date, or how to- kiss, or anything like that.”

“Oh.” Mike’s expression clears, and he grins. “Well, like I said, you’re a catch, so I don’t think you’d need to worry about putting people off or something. And all of that stuff is way easier than it sounds, seriously.”

Will makes a face. “That can’t be true.”

“I’m serious!” Mike says, laughing a little. “Here, we can practice.” He shifts on the bed, arranging his legs beneath him and sitting up a little straighter, running a casual hand through his hair. “Pretend I’m a guy you like.”

The irony of this statement would probably strike Will as hilarious, if he wasn't too busy staring at Mike and wondering if he’s having a stroke of some sort. “What?” he rasps, blinking rapidly.

“Pretend I’m a guy you like!” Mike repeats, grinning goofily. “Practice asking me out.”

“Mike,” Will says helplessly, and it comes out as more of a squeak than anything else.

“Will,” Mike parrots, arching an eyebrow. “Come on, low stakes. I’m not gonna make fun of you or anything.”

“That’s,” Will tries, throat suddenly feeling very dry. That’s not what I’m worried about , is what he wants to say, but that begs the question of what he is worried about, which is a whole other can of worms. “Um. I don’t know about this.”

“It’s okay, Will, seriously.” Mike reaches over and squeezes his knee, still grinning at him. “Just try.”

“Um, okay.” Will takes a shaky breath. “So I should, like…”

“Here.” Mike scoots closer, grabbing one of Will’s wrists and gently guiding his hand to rest on his shoulder. “Put your hand on my arm like this, like you’re flirting with me.”

Will is going to pass out. “You- what? I don’t know how to flirt.”

“It’s okay,” Mike says again, still smiling so wide and easy, like it’s a perfectly normal situation. Like he’s not on the verge of making Will the youngest person ever to have a heart attack. “That’s why we’re practicing. Just kind of lean in a little, smile.”

Will exhales shakily, but does as he’s told, mostly for lack of a better idea. He offers a shaky smile, tipping his head toward Mike and running his fingertips over the curve of Mike’s bicep, bare under the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. “Like this?” he says, in a soft voice that he hopes sounds at least vaguely flirty. Because- Mike wants him to flirt with him, apparently. What the fuck.

Mike’s eyes widen, and he glances down at Will’s hand on his arm, just briefly. Will wonders if that’s too much, if he should pull away, shouldn't touch, but when Mike meets his eyes again he looks- pleased, almost, so Will resists the urge to yank himself away and hide under the blankets. “Yeah,” Mike says, so quickly and confidently that Will almost believes him. “Perfect. Now just- ask.”

“Um,” Will says, taking a shaky breath. He runs his hand over Mike’s arm again, mostly just to ground himself. “Okay, so.” He swallows. “Mike,” he says, trying his hardest not to break eye contact with the boy in question. Mike raises an eyebrow, maybe surprised that Will used his name, and Will coughs quickly to cover it. “Would you-” he rubs his thumb in a slow circle over Mike’s arm, the warm skin sending his heart aflutter, “-would you maybe want to go out with me?”

There’s a brief, tense pause, where Will falls quiet and bites his lip, hoping he did okay, and Mike just kind of looks at him. Will’s just starting to panic when Mike springs into motion again, bouncing a little on the bed as he leans away again. “There you go!” he says, perfectly chipper, which seems impossible given that Will feels like he’s about to faint. “That was great.”

Will snorts, feeling slightly hysterical. “Okay, whatever.”

“I’m serious!” Mike insists. “You were direct. Charming. Here, we can keep going.” He readjusts again, regaining what is apparently his fake-date posture and pulling an overexaggerated lovesick expression before Will can fully process the word charming . “Wow, that sounds great!” he says, in a weird, gravelly voice, and places his hand on Will’s knee. “Time and place?”

“Oh,” Will laughs. Mike’s cheesy, over-the-top acting does make it a little easier to do this, he has to admit. It feels less serious. “I don’t know, I guess- where do people go on dates, do you think?”

Mike’s face rearranges itself into his normal expression, and he rolls his eyes. “You’re a terrible actor,” he sighs, and Will thinks oh, you sweet idiot . He’s a great actor, actually, but hopefully Mike never finds out how and why. “I don’t know, it’s really up to you. Where would you want to go on a date?”

Will thinks about it for a second, then bobs his head, straightening his spine and leaning back in. He reaches over to squeeze Mike’s forearm. “How about the ice cream place?” he offers in a faux-seductive voice. “Paula’s Cafe? Friday at three?”

A complicated series of emotions flash across Mike’s face, and he laughs lightly, leaning in and matching his facade. “I’d love to,” he says, complete with a fake, pleased little giggle that kind of makes Will want to climb into his lap and kiss him full on the mouth.

He pulls back before he’s tempted to follow through with it. “Okay, cool.”

“Cool,” Mike agrees, perfectly serious. “You did good.”

“Only because it’s you,” Will says unthinkingly, then flushes. “I mean- only because the stakes are low, you know? I’m way more comfortable with you than I’d be with some random guy.”

Mike’s ears turn pink. “Well, I should hope so,” he says, clearly aiming for sarcasm but sounding more pleased than anything else. 

Will rolls his eyes, studiously ignoring the butterflies that are spreading throughout his abdomen. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, nudging a socked toe into Mike’s knee. “Whatever. It was still awkward with you, so.”

“Not that awkward,” Mike says, shrugging. “It was cute. You’d be fine, I promise.”

Cute , Will’s brain echoes dumbly. He briefly considers throwing himself out the window. “Okay,” he squeaks. “If you say so.”

Mike squints at him for a minute, then clears his throat. “I mean, we could keep practicing. If you want.”

“You want me to ask you out again?” Will asks, arching an eyebrow.

Mike shrugs. “If you want to, sure. But you said there was other stuff you’re worried about, right?”

“Um, I guess?” Will glances at the clock. “We really don’t have to keep doing this, though. Don’t you want lunch or something? And I thought you wanted to play video games.”

“Stop deflecting,” Mike groans, flicking his forehead. “Here, let’s practice being on a date.”

Will wants to tell Mike exactly what a terrible idea this is. What comes out of his mouth, though, is; “Okay, fine.”

Of course, Mike is ridiculously pleased by this. He claps, bouncing on his knees and giggling a little, not unlike the fake one he did when Will asked him out. “Okay, cool. So, we’re at ice cream, yeah? Just- talk to me.”

“I am talking to you,” Will deadpans. “What would I even say, anyway?”

Mike shrugs. “I don’t know. First dates are supposed to be about getting to know someone, right? You basically just ask as many questions you can think of until you land on something you’re both interested in.”

What Will would like to point out is that his ideal first date would be with someone he already knows, but he can’t do that for obvious reasons. Instead, he asks, “And exactly how many first dates have you been on?”

Mike scowls. “Fuck off. Three. Four if El counts. And half of those times got me a second date, so. Not a horrible success rate, all things considered.”

“Blech.” Will makes a face. “Okay, I guess.” He purses his lips, looking Mike up and down as he thinks. He’s a little sunburnt, his freckles more prominent than usual. His hair is disheveled, his lips quirked into a little smirk, his eyes alight as he watches Will. He tries to imagine some other guy in Mike’s place, sitting across from him at a cafe table asking him mundane questions about himself, and it’s kind of a nice image, if he really thinks about it, but it’s not the same. He doesn’t want awkward flirting and boring first dates. He wants Mike . “Um. How’s school?”

Mike laughs, leaning back on his hands and shaking his head. “That’s your best opener?”

Will tosses a pillow at him, scowling. “Fuck off! How am I supposed to know how to start a conversation with some hypothetical guy that doesn’t exist? I don’t know what we have in common or anything about him.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Fine. Make up some stuff about him, then.”

“That’s so much work,” Will groans, flopping back onto the pillows. “I know how to have a conversation. It’s more the- the flirting, and the kissing and whatever,” he mumbles, blushing.

“Hmm.” Mike looks at him for a long moment. “Okay.”

Will blinks. “Okay what?”

Mike shrugs. “Kiss me.”

Will’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“Kiss me,” Mike says again, clambering up to hover over him and raising his eyebrows. “If you’re worried about it. We can practice. I’ll teach you how.”

“W- you- what?” Will manages, breathless and croaky, leaning further back into the pillows in an attempt to escape from where Mike is utterly overwhelming him, propped up on his hands peering down at him. “You want- Mike, you don’t want that.”

“Of course I do,” Mike says, like it’s obvious. “I want to help you.”

“I don’t think you understand what helping means,” Will huffs, placing a firm hand on Mike’s chest and giving him a gentle shove. To his credit, Mike sits back on his heels again, but he doesn’t scoot nearly far away enough for Will to remember how to breathe. “You’ve already helped. This is different.”

“Not that different! You need practice, I want to help you practice.” Mike spreads out his arms, giving him a look like here I am.

“You don’t want to kiss a gay guy,” Will insists, sitting up and glaring at him. “You think you’re being a good friend, but you’re just gonna end up feeling weird.”

“Am not!” Mike insists. “It’s not like it’s just some guy, it’s you . We’re friends. It’s not that weird.”

“It’s not that- Mike ,” Will groans, covering his face with his hands. “You’re so…”

“Look,” Mike says, a little more softly this time. He glances away, shuffling around uncomfortably on the bed. “If you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine. I just thought, you know, we’re friends and it might help and- and it could be fun. But you don’t have to, if you don’t want- with me, I mean.”

Will lifts his head, brows drawn together. “Wait,” he says, taking in the slump of Mike’s shoulders and the nervous twitch of his fingers against the duvet, “you think my problem with this is-”

“I shouldn't have assumed you’d want to just because I’m a guy,” Mike says quickly, flushing and looking away. “I’m probably not even your type anyway. It was dumb.”

“What- no, Mike,” Will says, a little helplessly. He crawls over to him, gently placing his hands on his shoulders. “Mike, hey, look at me.” Mike reluctantly peers up at him, pouting a little, and Will smiles, fighting the insane urge to laugh. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable, okay? It’s not because I don’t want to.” He taps a finger against Mike’s nose. “You’re kind of a catch too, you know,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. 

A slow, shy smile spreads across Mike’s face, and he giggles a little. “And you say you don’t know how to flirt,” he teases, poking a finger into his ribcage. Will yelps and flinches away, laughing, and the tension breaks as Mike pulls him back in by the wrists, looking at him fondly. “So does that mean you want to?” he asks, sounding oddly hopeful.

Will stops laughing, squinting at him. “I don’t know. You don’t think it’s weird?”

Mike shakes his head. “It’s only weird if we make it weird, right?”

Will absolutely doesn’t trust himself to not make it weird, but he wants to kiss Mike so much that he decides it doesn’t matter. “Okay.” He pauses, then adds, “you’re not gonna make fun of me for being bad at it or anything?”

“Oh my God, Will, I swear,” Mike laughs. He gives his wrists a playful tug, and Will falls halfway onto him, their faces suddenly very close together. “First off, it’s not even that hard. Second, like I said, the whole point of this is so you can practice without judgment, right?”

“I guess,” Will murmurs. He’s definitely staring at Mike’s lips. He realizes, suddenly, that he’s probably allowed to do that now. What the fuck.

“Right,” Mike says softly. He inches closer, not even seeming to realize he’s doing it. “So. Should we?”

“Yeah,” Will whispers, before he can think better of it. “Yeah, what should I- what do I do?”

Mike swallows hard, shifting a little. “Um. I guess… this is a pretty good starting point, I think. Maybe- put your hand on my face?”

Will takes a shaky breath and nods, lifting a hand to his cheek and gently pressing against Mike’s warm skin. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. His voice has suddenly gone all soft and gentle, encouraging, but there’s a hint of something else, too. A little bit like desperation, if Will’s brave enough to characterize it that way. “Like that. Now tilt your face up, slowly. If it’s a first kiss you want to give them time to react. Catching people off guard doesn’t generally end well.”

“Oh yeah?” Will smiles a little, thinking about how if they were just a little closer, that smile would be pressed against Mike’s. “You gonna reject me?”

“After I had to beg you to kiss me?” Mike counters, arching an eyebrow. “As if. Okay, just lean in a little more, and then-”

Their lips meet before Mike gets the rest of the sentence out. Will is shaking a little, his fingers twitching against Mike’s face as he carefully presses his lips against Mike’s. It’s sweet, gentle and dry and barely there, just a press of skin on skin. It shouldn't be all that interesting, really, except that it’s Mike , and Will can smell his cologne and feel the light quiver of his bottom lip between his own and he’s so warm , radiating summer heat. Even if he’ll never have this again, Will can die happy saying Mike Wheeler was his first kiss.

Mike pulls back after a minute, looking a little dazed. “Good,” he whispers. “That’s- good. Try moving your lips a little this time, though, okay?” he says, and Will doesn’t have time to ask this time? before Mike’s diving in again, this time reaching up to grasp the front of Will’s t-shirt, holding him in place. Will parts his mouth a little on instinct, losing himself a little in the feeling of Mike’s lips skating across his own, still slow and soft but more active, this time. More tangible. He likes it, he realizes - not just because of the objective fact of it being Mike and kissing , but because it feels nice, is nice, feeling the gentle motion of another person’s body in such proximity to your own. He’d never really thought about it like that before, hadn’t allowed himself to. Now that he is, he never wants to stop.

Mike’s grip on his shirt tightens a little, and he pulls him in closer, digging his teeth very gently into his lower lip. Will releases a breathy whine, which is possibly the most embarrassing noise he’s ever made in his life, and Mike pulls back immediately, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he says, sounding a little out of it. “Too much?”

Will shakes his head, not even caring how desperate he looks right now. “No, no, it’s…”

“Oh.” Mike squints at him for a minute, a shyly pleased look spreading across his face. “It’s… good?” he supplies hopefully.

Will wheezes out a laugh. “Shut up,” he mumbles. “Yes. How am I doing?”

“Good,” Mike answers immediately, then flushes. “I- yeah. Very good.” He stares wildly at him for a beat, cheeks pink and eyes wide, before his face sets into a look of determination. It’s so Mike that Will almost laughs - the crinkle of his eyebrows and the purse of his lips that he regards his science homework with, a tricky campaign, a puzzle that’s missing a piece. I’m gonna figure this out , it says, and maybe Will should be scared of that, but it’s so very reminiscent of his best friend that he can’t really be that pressed.“Some more practice would probably help, though,” he says seriously, and oh, Will loves him so bad. “Just to be safe.”

Will doesn’t have the brainpower to question why Mike seems to want to continue kissing him, mainly because he’s too busy celebrating. “You want to french me or something, Wheeler?” he asks, and only remembers to be horrified with himself after the fact.

Mike is unperturbed, though, laughing and knocking their foreheads together. “I’m starting to think you’re lying about this inexperience thing.”

“I’m not,” Will giggles, nudging Mike’s nose with his own, just because he can, because Mike is that close to him and doesn’t seem to want to pull away. Whatever is going on in Mike’s brain right now, Will is considering it an apology from the universe for all the shit it’s put him through. “Guess I’m just a natural,” he quips, with a sly smirk.

“What have I gotten myself into,” Mike murmurs, but he kisses Will again before he can answer. Will’s ready for it this time - he meets him halfway, sliding the hand on his face back into his hair, tangling his fingers in it. Mike cut his hair a while ago, and while Will sometimes misses the longer curls, he suddenly decides that the new style has its advantages. For example, it’s much easier to tousle it, to tease out all of his curls beneath his fingers and use it as leverage to pull Mike closer without it getting tangled. 

Another bonus: Mike responds very well to this tactic, exhaling sharply against Will’s lips as he slumps into him, smoothing out the hand on his chest and running it over his clavicle. He pushes at him, just a little, until Will shuffles back to lean back against the headboard of his bed. Mike follows - not that he has much choice, given that Will is practically dragging him with him by the hair - and then he’s in his lap, hooking his arms around Will’s neck as he slips his tongue into his mouth.

Will is a little startled - he’d been getting the hang of moving his mouth, letting Mike graze his teeth over his lips and press in closer, but the reality of Mike’s tongue licking over his teeth is suddenly much more real. He whines again, not bothering to feel embarrassed about it this time, particularly when it seems to encourage Mike. He’s met with an answering groan, followed by a gentle suction on his lower lip. Feeling a little bolder, Will tries taking over control a little, using his grip on Mike’s hair to tilt his face to the side and give himself a better angle to trace his tongue over Mike’s lip. He can feel the way Mike’s mouth curves up into a small smile at the sensation, and it spurs him forward as he slots his tongue into Mike’s mouth in earnest, exploring every inch of it and getting rewarded with Mike’s breathy sighs.

After a few moments of this, Mike disconnects the kiss, his lips abruptly trailing away from Will’s and down over his jaw and to his neck. This is also different, though it does grant Will a much needed second to breathe. He lets his head fall back against the headboard, staring incredulously at the ceiling as Mike mouths at his clavicle. They’ve skipped over at least a step or two, here, but Will is not nearly foolish enough to complain. He knows Mike will stop at the first sign of hesitation from him, so he focuses all of his remaining brainpower not giving him any such sign.

Eventually, though, Mike works his way back up to Will’s lips, his kisses more gentle this time when he presses in again, slow and sweet. He slots their lips together and lingers for a long moment before he breaks the kiss - no! - and rests his forehead against Will’s, breathing hard. “You’ve seriously never kissed anyone before?”

Will shakes his head. Whatever power of flirting he’d momentarily gained has now been officially kissed out of him. “No.”

“Mm.” Suddenly, Mike’s eyes widen, and he jerks back, his kissed-red mouth dropping open in horror. “Holy shit, I just stole your first kiss, didn’t I?”

Will can’t help but laugh at the notion that he’d rather have his first kiss with someone who isn’t Mike. “My first, like, five kisses, technically,” he teases, poking a finger into his cheek. “But if I cared about that I wouldn't have said yes. Can’t steal what is a gift.”

Mike blushes. “A gift?” he asks shyly, running a fingertip over the inside of Will’s wrist.

Something about the question pulls Will back into reality. Mike isn’t his boyfriend. Mike is his friend , who thinks he’s doing him a favor, and after today Will’s never going to get to kiss him again. 

Right.

“Yeah,” he says softly, withdrawing one hand from Mike’s hair and brushing the back of it against Mike’s cheek before dropping both hands entirely. “Yeah, I’m- I’m glad you’re my first kiss.” He smiles a little. “And the first guy I’ve ever asked out, technically.”

Mike laughs softly. “It’s an honor,” he agrees quietly. “You’re really glad?”

Will nods. This, at least, he’s sure of. “Yeah, ‘course. You’re my best friend.”

Mike’s lips twist, then settle back into a smile. “Right, yeah,” he says quickly. “Good.” His eyes dart to Will’s lips. “Do you feel- better? Less… worried, or whatever?”

It depends on which worry he’s talking about, but that’s too much to explain when his lips are still tingling with the phantom feeling of Mike’s against them. “Yeah, I do.” He grabs Mike’s hand on a whim and squeezes tight. “Thank you.”

Mike swallows, still looking inexplicably concerned. He darts forward, pressing another quick, firm kiss to Will’s lips. Will makes a soft sound of surprise, but kisses back because obviously , and tries not to be disappointed about it when Mike disconnects from him again. “Good,” Mike decides when they part, giving Will a goofy smile. “So we’re cool, then?”

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Will laughs. “For the record, though, I still think this whole thing was super unnecessary.”

Mike clutches a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. Are you saying you didn’t like kissing me? Would you rather have asked out someone else?”

“No,” Will says truthfully, which luckily seems to be the answer Mike’s looking for. “It was fun. For me, at least.” He blushes.

“For me too,” Mike says with a grin, which doesn’t, objectively, make all that much sense. Mike should probably feel way weirder about kissing a guy than Will does. But then again, Will doesn’t really have any expertise about what straight guys do and don’t feel weird about. Mike waggles his eyebrows at him, reaching out to squeeze Will’s knee. “Looking forward to our date on Friday.”

Will snorts, shaking his head. “Okay, idiot.”

Mike grins, squirming up onto the pillows beside him and tossing an arm around his shoulders. “Want to see my notes for the new campaign?”

“Always,” Will replies, settling against Mike’s side and trying not to think about how warm Mike’s body felt against his own while they were kissing. Mike pulls his notebook out of his backpack and starts flipping through it, humming to himself idly. “Hey, Mike?” Will asks after a beat, smirking to himself a little.

“Hmm?”

Will blinks innocently up at him. “Are you gonna make out with every gay guy that comes out to you, or just me?”

Mike hits him over the head with his notebook, which Will takes to mean no, Will, you are my one and only.

Thursday, 12:43 p.m.

“You have a hickey,” Dustin says matter-of-factly, tossing his backpack on Will’s bed and eyeing him quizzically as he flops down next to him. 

Will flushes. “And you are here uninvited,” he counters. “Who even let you in the house?”

“You said I could come over to play that new video game, remember?” Dustin says, conveniently ignoring the second question. “I’m here to take you up on it.”

“I don’t remember specifying a day or time,” Will grumbles, scooting out of the way to make room for him as he starfishes across the entire bed. “Did you invite other people over, too?” he asks - it wouldn't be the first time, and Will’s not opposed , but he is going through a bit of a personal crisis at the moment so a heads-up would have been nice.

“No,” Dustin sniffs. “Lucas and Max are on a date and Mike is MIA.”

Mike . Will hasn’t talked to him since the day of the kissing, which isn’t inherently weird , because it was only yesterday, and they’d been perfectly normal after the kissing had happened. But the more he’s thought about it, the more he’s spiraled. What if Mike decided it was weird much later, when he had space away from Will to think about it? What if Mike thinks Will decided it was weird, and his feelings are hurt? And most importantly, how is Will going to live the rest of his miserable life without kissing Mike again?

“Well, the video games are in the living room,” he says tersely to Dustin. “Help yourself.”

“No, no,” Dustin says, waving a hand around in the air. “That’s the premise for why I’m here. Now I’m much more interested in who the hell you’ve been shacking it up with in the thirty-six hours that you’ve been out.”

“I’m not- shacking it up with anyone,” Will yelps, entirely too defensively. “And it’s not a hickey.”

Dustin gives him an unimpressed look. “What is it, then?”

“A- bruise. I was hit. By a- a tree branch.” Will winces. Damn it, Mike . It’s not even that big of a mark, to be fair, just a light purple mark on the edge of his collarbone, but it’s also the exact sort of mark that can’t really be caused by anything other than another person’s mouth. He’d noticed it this morning, and has spent a solid chunk of the day obsessing over it, occasionally reaching up to run his fingers over it in mild awe. On the one hand, it’s kind of validating to have proof that the whole day wasn't some sort of fever dream. On the other, it’s embarrassing, and impossible to explain, and has he mentioned that he hasn’t heard from Mike?

“Uh huh.” Dustin rolls his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar. Just tell me, man, this is exciting!”

Will grimaces, his hand flitting to his neck again. “Is it?”

“Totally!” Dustin lets his head fall back to hang off the mattress. “Hey, El!” he shouts through the open doorway, and there’s a pattering of footsteps before El appears, sporting a yellow sundress and a floppy straw hat that covers half her face.

“Yes?”

Dustin points to Will’s neck. “Has Will told you anything about that?”

“Oh.” El’s face spreads into a wide grin, and she steps into the room, carefully bending the brim of the hat out of her face. “No, he’s been acting cagey. But I heard Joyce say something to Dad about needing to have a talk with him.” She waggles her eyebrows, and drops herself unceremoniously into Will’s desk chair. Will, mournfully, thinks of the book he’d been reading before Dustin appeared in the doorway and hijacked everything.

“God,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Guys, it’s seriously not a big deal.”

“It is,” El says, readjusting her hat again. “You said you liked boys and then you found one on the same day. That’s very impressive.”

“I didn’t find one ,” Will huffs, before he can think better of it, and then winces. “It’s not like that,” he corrects weakly instead, which probably does approximately nothing to help his case.

“What’s it like, then?” Dustin demands. El nods along, making her hat bounce.

“None of your business,” Will grumbles. “Why are you wearing that thing, anyway?” he asks El, jerking his chin in the direction of her hat.

El folds her hands neatly in her lap. “I’m trying out hats this week,” she says primly, like that explains everything. “If you didn’t find a boy, who did you kiss?”

Will bites his lip. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you guys have to promise not to be weird about it.”

“Nope,” Dustin says cheerfully. “Go ahead.”

Will rolls his eyes. “It’s- Mike,” he spits out anyway, because he doesn’t actually think he can keep it bottled up any longer. Apparently, he can keep his sexuality under wraps for five years, but he kisses Mike Wheeler a couple times and he forgets how to lie. 

“It’s what?” El yelps, eyes widening in glee. Her hat falls off her head and lands softly on the carpeted floor, and Dustin sits up so fast Will thinks he hears some bones crack.

“Mike’s gay?” Dustin says, grinning and bouncing a little on the mattress. “Dude, that’s so perfect, now you can-”

“No!” Will squawks, flushing and shaking his head frantically. “No, no, he’s not- I mean, we’re not, that’s not what happened. It was just…” he pauses, trying to think of how he can possibly describe what it was just . “He, uh,” he starts, wincing, “he found out I’d never, like, asked anyone out or flirted or kissed someone, so he was just helping me practice.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Will stares down at his pillow, picking a loose thread on the corner. Then Dustin clears his throat delicately. “He was what now?” he asks in a strained voice, like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Don’t look at me like that, okay,” Will complains, lifting his hands to shield him from the twin stares boring into the side of his head. “It was his idea.”

“It was his idea to kiss you?” El asks. She leans one elbow on his desk and rests her chin on her first, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Yes!” Will squeaks, cheeks flaming. “He said it wouldn't be weird because we’re friends.”

“You guys being friends makes it not weird to kiss each other?” Dustin asks, arching an eyebrow. “That’s some pretty interesting logic from a guy who got a hundred percent in physics last year.”

“A hundred and two, actually,” Will corrects unthinkingly. “But I had to help him with some of the extra credit.”

Dustin snorts. “Maybe he thinks kissing you will get him extra credit in allyship.”

Will opens his mouth, feeling oddly defensive of Mike and his admittedly ridiculous ideas, but Dustin is actually probably not far off with that theory, so he lets it go. “Yeah, well, whatever. Don’t be weird to him about it, okay? I’m just telling you so that you’ll shut up about the-” he gestures vaguely to his neck, thinking he’ll probably actually spontaneously combust if he has to say the word hickey again. “Y’know.”

“If you think telling us that you made out with Mike is going to make us stop asking questions, you’re out of your mind,” Dustin says, grinning. Will has to close his eyes and remind himself that at least he’s supportive, at least no one’s grossed out by me, surely this is better than that in order to stay calm.

When he opens his eyes, El is staring at him, lips twisted delicately in concentration. “What?” he asks tiredly, resigning himself for the inevitable half hour of teasing that will follow this conversation until one of them gets bored.

“You and Mike are friends,” El says slowly. “But he kissed you?”

“Yes,” Will groans, exasperated. “It’s seriously not that big of a deal, okay? Friends can kiss sometimes.”

Dustin squints. “Dude, I’m a good friend, and no offense or anything, but I don’t really think that offering to kiss you would be my first reaction in that situation.”

“It’s Mike, though,” Will insists. He’s not really sure why he’s so intent on defending this whole thing, especially since he’d thought it was just as weird when Mike first suggested it, and he’s been spiraling about it ever since. Maybe he just wants to downplay it so El and Dustin won’t figure out why he agreed to the thing in the first place. “He doesn’t- he’s different. He’s not like- he’s not like anyone else.”

El rolls her eyes. “Well, that’s true.” Her face brightens, and she grins. “Have you talked to him since?”

“No,” Will huffs, face dangerously red. “Well- I mean, we hung out after and it was fine, but I haven’t talked to him since then.”

“You should call him!” El chirps excitedly. “I bet he’s freaking out.”

Dustin snorts. “Oh my God, yeah, he definitely is. No wonder he was so weird when I radioed him this morning.”

Will whips his head back and forth between them, panic rising in his stomach. “He was weird?” he asks, in a high-pitched squeaking voice. “You think he’s freaking out?”

“Aww,” El coos, lifting herself out of her chair and clambering up onto the bed next to him. She winds an arm around his shoulders and squeezes tight. “It’s okay, Will. He won’t be mad at you .”

“Yeah, he’s probably just embarrassed,” Dustin points out. “It always takes him like twenty-four extra hours to realize how insane some of his ideas are than it takes everyone else.”

“Don’t be mean,” Will murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. “He’s sweet. I don’t want him to feel bad about it.”

El squeezes his shoulders again. “Of course not,” she says gently. “You should call him. Just to clear the air.”

“Mmph,” Will grumbles, tipping his head to rest against her shoulder. “Maybe. Later, though.” He glances at Dustin. “Can we play video games now?”

“Please,” Dustin groans, rolling off the bed and grabbing El’s hat off the floor. “But put this on first,” he demands, already fitting it onto Will’s head.

Will frowns at him, the edge of the hat flopping into his line of vision. “Why?” he asks petulantly.

“Makes you look more fun,” El explains cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder before hopping to her feet. “What video games are we playing?”

Thursday, 6:37 p.m.

The phone rings seven times before Mike picks up, which is long enough for proper panic to overtake Will. He’s gone over what he wants to say at least fourteen times in his head, but he hadn’t accounted for what he’d do if Mike didn’t pick up. What if Mike starts icing him out like he did that year in Lenora? What if Mike’s not home, and Will can’t reach him today, and Mike ends up thinking Will’s icing him out? Will doesn’t want to turn any of this into a big dramatic thing , but he might have to if Mike won’t talk to him.

He’s considering hanging up when he hears the click of the line being picked up, and a voice floats through the receiver.

“Hello, Wheeler residence?”

“Oh.” Will swallows. “Hey, Mrs. Wheeler. Is Mike there?”

“Oh! Hi, Will,” she chirps. “Yeah, he’s in his room, let me go grab him.”

There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, followed by a muffled call of Mike’s name, and then he’s there - Will can tell, somehow, just by the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line. “Hey,” Mike says, sounding a little breathless. “Hey, hi, what’s up?”

“Hi,” Will laughs nervously, wrapping his finger in the phone cord. “Not much, just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Mike says, and clears his throat. “Yeah, cool. Anything in particular?”

Will can’t really remember what his speech was going to be, but now that he’s actually talking to Mike - who doesn’t seem mad or put off at all - he decides it doesn’t matter. “Not really. I just haven’t seen you.”

“Yeah,” Mike replies, a little regretfully. “I wanted to hang out but- well, whatever. How’s your day?”

Will laughs again, a little more genuine this time. “Good,” he answers. “Dustin came over.” He decides to leave out the part about him and El tag-teaming to make him panic about the- practicing , because, well. “We played Zelda.”

“Oh, yeah, he told me,” Mike says, a little distractedly. “He said I should come too, but I had to help my mom with some stuff. Also, I figured he probably hadn’t run the fact that he was coming over by you yet, so.”

“He definitely didn’t,” Will chuckles, “but it’s fine.” He swallows, and then, on a whim, adds, “I missed you, though. We missed you.”

Mike hums, sounding pleased. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, how’s that?”

“Okay,” Will says, relieved. “Yeah, we should hang out. Do you want to come over in the afternoon?”

“Sure,” Mike replies easily. “Two-thirty?”

“Sounds good,” Will manages, throat dry. 

“You okay?” Mike asks, sounding faintly amused. At least one of us is having fun , Will thinks bitterly, and then immediately feels bad. He did have fun, when it was actually happening. If he could go back in time, he’d probably still agree to it, because kissing Mike was fun and surprisingly easy and quite possibly the singular best experience of his life. He just wishes, more than anything else, that he could find a way to do it again. 

“I’m fine,” he says, wholly unconvincingly.

“Uh huh,” Mike hums, disbelieving. “You know, we could go to the cafe tomorrow instead. Go on that date.” Will groans, rubbing a hand over his face, and Mike laughs gently. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be weird. I thought it was funny,” he tries, sounding genuinely apologetic this time.

“It’s fine,” Will is quick to reassure, even though it’s sort of not, but that’s not Mike’s fault. “It’s only weird if we make it weird, right?”

Mike laughs, warm and gentle. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Good.”

There’s a beat of silence where Will wonders how he’ll ever be able to come back from this, and then there’s a muffled shout on the other end of the line and Mike groans. “Shit, sorry, my mom’s calling me. Dinner or whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, taking a steadying breath. “For our date,” he jokes, and is rewarded with another soft laugh.

“Right,” Mike confirms fondly. “Bye, Will,” he murmurs, voice soft and gentle, and Will has to swallow up a lump in his throat as he returns the sentiment and hangs up.

El flounces in from the other room, now sporting a black beret. “You talked to him?” she asks, grinning, and Will gives her a look as he untangles his hand from the phone cord.

“Yes,” he huffs, and then, on second thought, “mind your own business.”

“What did he say?” El asks, completely ignoring his request, and hops up onto the counter beside him. “Did he confess his love for you?”

“For the last time,” Will gripes, exasperated, as he turns and starts rifling through the cupboard for some sort of snack to fill the void currently occupying his abdomen, “he doesn’t have any love to confess about.”

El makes a disapproving noise. “Of course he loves you,” she says matter-of-factly, as Will reemerges from the cabinet with a box of Pop-Tarts in hand. “He is your friend. And he kissed you!”

“As practice,” Will reminds her. He tears open a packet of Pop-Tarts and pops two in the toaster. “I can’t keep telling you this. He’s straight.”

“You said he liked kissing you, though,” El stresses. “I do not think he would like kissing you if he didn’t like boys.”

And Will can’t really deal with thinking about that right now, so he turns on his heel and heads down the hall, effectively ending the conversation.

“I’m eating your Pop-Tarts!” El calls as he turns the corner into his room, and Will briefly entertains the idea of smothering himself with a pillow.

Friday, 2:28 p.m.

Will spends most of the next day locked in his room, avoiding El’s constant pestering and his mom’s vague but pointed questions about his social life , or whatever. It’s bad enough that he had to tell his friends about his idiotic self-indulgence, but explaining to his mother why he has a purple bruise at the base of his neck but no boyfriend is a line that he can’t bring himself to cross.

He keeps replaying the feeling of Mike’s lips on his own, the solidness of him, the way his breath hitched appreciatively when Will took a little more initiative, and before that- the flirting. The fake date request. It was all so nice , and Will wants to live in that memory forever, but every time he thinks about it, he’s hit with a wave of guilt. Mike didn’t know what he was getting into, letting Will kiss him, and granted, Will did try to tell him how crazy it was, but he didn’t try that hard. He’s still glad it happened, of course, but he doesn’t think Mike will be when he finds out the truth.

By the time Mike actually arrives, Will has worked himself back into a panic, enough so that when he answers the door to find Mike standing on the other side, he forgets to offer any sort of greeting and winds up staring him down for a long moment. 

“Um,” Mike says after a beat, laughing awkwardly, “hi?”

Will blinks, shoving away the memory of Mike in his lap and trying his best to smile convincingly. “Sorry, hi,” he manages. “Sorry. Um- come in, I was just-”

“Will,” Mike interrupts, reaching forward and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Breathe.”

Will takes a shaky breath. “Sorry,” he says again, and Mike gives him a look. “I’m being weird. Come in, let’s just watch a movie or something.”

“Actually,” Mike counters, squeezing his shoulder once and then stepping back, looking oddly nervous as he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels, “I was thinking maybe we could go for a drive instead? It’s so nice out.”

“Oh,” Will says, and now that Mike mentions it, it is a pretty nice day. He hadn’t really noticed, on account of all the panicking. “Yeah, sure.”

Mike smiles, looking relieved. “Cool. We can take my car.” He holds out a hand, and Will takes it, a little hesitantly, as he trails after him over to Mike’s car in the driveway. 

“How’s the campaign writing going?” Will asks, just for the sake of something to say, as he releases Mike’s hand and climbs into the passenger seat. 

Mike brightens. “Good! I think I’ll have it ready by next week. Do you want to do some art for it?”

“Always,” Will says with a grin, his shoulders relaxing at the familiar territory. 

“Awesome.” Mike drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat of the music playing softly from the radio. “I’ll show you my draft later if you want.”

Will bobs his head in agreement, and Mike glances at him, eyes soft and- fond, maybe. It’s the same look he gave him right before he kissed him for the first time. Will has to firmly train his eyes on the dashboard before he indulges that thought for too long.

They chat mindlessly for a while as Mike drives them around town, the windows down and warm summer air blowing in Will’s face. It’s pleasant, and normal, all things considered, but Will can’t help but feel like they’re both purposefully avoiding the subject of the practice . He considers breaking the tension with a joke about it, but he’s worried Mike might take it wrong. He’s already acting a little squirrelly, laughing too quickly and tapping the steering wheel with an increasingly fast beat.

“So,” Mike says after a while, when there’s a lull in the conversation, “now that you’re out and- and everything, are you gonna try to start dating?”

Will laughs, leaning back and propping his feet on the dashboard. “Probably not until college,” he says, trying very hard not to think about the last person he’d asked out, which is very difficult when said person is behind the steering wheel, “like I told you, it’s so much work to try to find gay guys in Hawkins.”

Mike hums, his voice a little bit higher pitched than normal, and when Will glances over at him, his knuckles are turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. “Interesting,” Mike croaks. “You don’t think someone could come to you?”

“Um,” Will stalls, squinting at him and trying to figure out what, exactly, is stressing him out so much. “I guess then I might say yes, if I liked the guy enough. But that seems like wishful thinking.”

Mike shakes his head slowly, smiling ruefully as he turns off onto a side street in downtown Hawkins. “What makes you say that? I told you you’re a catch.”

“You’re my friend,” Will mutters, trying not to sound bitter about it. “You have to say shit like that.”

“It’s true , though,” Mike insists, his fingers abruptly stopping their beat on the steering wheel as he sends Will a disapproving look. “You’re smart, and you’re creative and talented and cute and- and you’re a good kisser, and…” he trails off, blowing out a breath and looking faintly embarrassed as the car shudders to a halt along the nearest curb. Will frowns, glancing around at their surroundings and wondering why they’ve stopped, until his gaze lands on the sign for Paula’s Cafe hanging in the window directly across from the car.

Will’s heart leaps into his throat, and he whips around to stare at Mike, his mouth open in a half-question. Mike meets his eyes sheepishly, flushed an adorable shade of pink. “I was wondering,” Mike says haltingly, eyes darting all over Will’s face, “if your offer from before still stood?”

“You- what?” Will asks, frozen in place, voice gone all weird and tight. This can’t be happening. He must be misinterpreting something. It’s the only explanation for any of this.

“The cafe. At three,” Mike reminds him in a low voice, dropping one hand through the steering wheel and reaching over to hook his pinky finger through Will’s. “That’s what we said, right?”

Will glances at the dashboard clock where, sure enough, the numbers displayed read 2:59 p.m. “Y-yeah,” he manages shakily, “you want-? With me?”

Mike huffs out a soft laugh, staring down at their interlocked pinkies. “After you left the other day,” he murmurs, “I just kept thinking about how nice it is to hang out with you, and how I always feel so alone after you leave, and how I- I basically just always want to spend time with you. Which I already knew, but after all the- the kissing and everything, I started wondering what it would be like to get to kiss you like that all the time, and it- it sounded really nice, and then I realized that maybe I like spending time with you so much because I like you .” He smiles nervously, glancing hopefully up at Will’s face. “So I thought I’d just- I’d just see if you might be interested in putting all that practice to good use. With me. Just in case I happen to be the type of guy you’d be interested in.”

Will feels wetness at the edges of his eyes, and he’s mortified to realize he’s tearing up, just a little. He can’t believe Mike is the one sitting here baring his soul, looking so endearingly nervous and biting his lip like he’s expecting a rejection. He never thought he’d have something like this handed to him, especially with Mike, his Mike, his best friend. He’d barely even considered the possibility of any guy liking him, ever , and now he gets the only one he’s ever wanted? It’s a little unbelievable, if he thinks about it. 

He sniffs, reaching up with his free hand to swipe at his eyes, and Mike’s expression pinches with concern. “Hey, Will,” he says, reaching up as if to touch his face before seeming to think better of it and dropping his hand, “hey, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, you can totally say no and we can pretend this never happened, I just thought-”

“No, Mike ,” Will cuts in, waving his hand around frantically, “you’re- of course I want that, of course you’re the type of guy I’m interested in, you’re-” he half-laughs, hysterical. “You’re the only type of guy I’m interested in.”

“Oh,” Mike breathes, awed, and a slow smile spreads across his face, looking almost like a little kid with the way his happiness emanates from him, his cheeks bunched up with his smile and his voice light and giggly when he asks, “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Will says, laughing tearfully as he tangles their fingers together properly. “Of course.”

“You said you didn’t like anyone!” Mike accuses, but he’s still laughing, relieved and sweet and so, so happy. Will can’t believe he makes Mike happy like that. “You said!”

“I lied,” Will admits with a shrug, grinning. “Sorry.”

Mike tugs their joined hands up to his lips and kisses Will’s knuckles. “Hmm. That’s a breach of Party rules, you know,” he hedges, quirking an eyebrow.

Will hums, feigning regret. “I know,” he murmurs, shaking his head. He places his other hand on top of his and Mike’s intertwined ones and squeezes. “Apologies. I drew first blood.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees mournfully, though it’s undercut a bit when he kisses Will’s hand again. “You could make it up to me,” he offers slyly, resting his chin on Will’s knuckles.

Will leans in closer, smirking. “Yeah? Any idea how?”

Mike kisses him, his free hand coming up to grip his cheek as he drags him in, and it’s so good , even better than it was two days ago in Mike’s room, because this time Will knows exactly what to do. He slots their lips together, winding one hand in Mike’s hair like he knows he likes and angling him to the side for a better angle. Mike hums appreciatively, his tongue slipping into Will’s mouth and curling around his own, coaxing a soft whine out of Will. It’s not the most ideal position - the center console is digging into Will’s hip, and he has to twist his body awkwardly so that they’re face to face, but it’s Mike , and Mike likes him, and they’re kissing , and this is the best day of Will’s life.

They come up for air after a long moment, Mike’s breathing ragged and his expression awed as he looks him over. “Holy shit,” he whispers, and squeezes Will’s hand again, seemingly involuntarily.

Will laughs softly. “You said something about me being a good kisser?”

“Shut up,” Mike whines, knocking their foreheads together, and then, reluctantly, “yeah. I think- I think maybe I’ve been super gay this whole time and you just, like, opened the floodgates.”

“Happy to help,” Will giggles, brushing their lips together again. 

“Shut up,” Mike says again. Will kisses him sweetly, and Mike runs a hand over his bicep, squeezing appreciatively before he pulls back again. “God,” he whispers, dazed.

“Does it feel different?” Will asks, running his thumb across Mike’s cheekbone, mesmerized by the warmth of his skin, the freckles dotting it. “Different than kissing a girl, I mean?”

Mike tilts his chin up until their lips connect in the ghost of a kiss that sets Will’s heart aflutter. “Yeah,” he rasps. “S’ better.”

Will raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Mhm. Feels right.” Mike kisses him again, deeper and more fully this time like he’s trying to prove his point. “Maybe that’s just ‘cause it’s you, though, I don’t know,” he adds.

Will smiles, feeling like he might just float away into the warm summer air if not for Mike’s arms looped around him, holding him in place. “Do you think dating a guy would be different?” he asks, trying to mimic the flirty tone Mike had taught him just three days ago.

Mike’s eyes flutter open, and he grins, nudging their noses together playfully. “Probably,” he says, faux-serious, “I mean, it’s Hawkins, so there’d be a lot of sneaking around, but I think I could make it work. In theory, obviously.”

“In theory,” Will agrees, nodding. “Right.” 

“I mean,” Mike says, leaning back a little to look at him properly and arching an eyebrow, “it would take some adjustment, you know. I might need some practice.”

Will grins. “Oh yeah? I might know someone who could help with that.” He traces a fingertip over Mike’s knee right below the line of his shorts, pleased by the goosebumps that follow in its wake.

“Yeah?” Mike tilts his head to the side, his wide smile a beacon of light in the shaded area. “You should give him my number.”

“I will,” Will promises, and smacks another quick kiss to his lips. “Now, I believe we have a date to go on?” he asks, and Mike laughs as he follows him out into the pleasant summer day.