Archive of Our Own ^beta

Will has seen too many horrors in his life, fought a thousand battles—physical and mental, in every shape and form. So sue him, it’s still hard to adjust to a new life that somehow feels so close to the one he’s been dreaming of all his life.

It’s been over a year since it all ended. It wasn’t easy; it took so much from each of them. They’ve lost people, paid the price with innocent lives, faced their worst nightmares head-on, but it’s over. It has been a year, and yet Will still gets nervous when someone spaces out during a conversation. He still double-checks when it snows. He still keeps the lights on all the time and wears too many layers. He wonders if the others feel the same way, or if it’s just him again, stuck in that corner of the past.

And another thing is, Will has always believed he knew his own ending. He knew where he would be when his friends got married and started families. He knew he would just be quietly listening to their conversations when the couples and their partners gathered. He knew he would be invited out of kindness rather than necessity. There were always two options.

Either a loveless marriage, one that exists only for the certificate, a piece of paper like a driver’s license or a passport. Or alone. A house with a single room and an open kitchen, some walls, maybe a television left on to create noise other than the chaos in his head. But never a home. He always thought that was the fate he has got from his mother.

So sue him if he still can’t believe he’s staring at a pair of suits lying on his bed, waiting for him to put them on in an hour, just as his boyfriend will come by to take him to his mother’s wedding. Life has a funny way of surprising him.

He looks at the two ties in his hands, placing them both carefully on the suit as he tries to figure out which one complements the navy blue better. When he notices he’s been stuck at this step for the last twenty minutes, a flutter of stress rises in his chest—but even that stress feels sweet, almost giddy. After a few minutes of comparing the ties, draping them over himself, and running through every possible color combination and outcome in his head, he finally decides on the light yellow one, setting the red one carefully back in the closet.

He quickly pulls on his white shirt and pants, then slips into the suit. His hair is still a chaotic mess from sleep, completely undone, but he actually likes how he looks. It took him a long time to get here, but after hearing it constantly from someone who truly loves you, you eventually start to feel right in your own body, he thinks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Satisfied after studying himself in the mirror and checking for every tiny flaw, he grabs the tie, ready to have his mom put it on.

His mom, who of course, is at the hairdresser, getting ready for her own wedding at this very moment.

“Shit,” Will hisses at the realization, standing frozen for a long moment, dumbfounded.

He moves back to the mirror. How hard can tying a tie be, right? Except he can’t even visualize how it’s supposed to look when it’s finished. He drapes it around his neck, attempts to tie it in front of his shirt, but it comes out… definitely wrong. Several more attempts leave him almost choking himself, and finally, he decides to give up before he ruins the freshly ironed collars of his shirt. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, and can’t help but laugh at himself quietly, the nervous tension fading just a little.

"Will! Are you done yet?" El's voice calls from the other room, snapping him out of his thoughts. Without replying, he quickly heads toward her.

She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, mouth slightly open as she tries to put on her eyeliner with all the care in the world. She’s already wearing her dark purple, shiny dress—the one she spent two months deciding on and buying. Her hair is still undone, and Will relaxes a little at the sight. She turns her head to look at him and gives a giddy smile.

"You look amazing already!" she says immediately. One of her favorite things to do is hype people up, and Will knows he’s one of her favorites.

Will blushes slightly. "Thanks, El. You too. That dress definitely was worth the torture you put us through for two months," he giggles.

"You’d definitely kick me on the head if you knew I’m still a little worried about it," El laughs back, continuing to carefully apply her makeup.

"Come on, that’s literally your color!" Will steps next to her to get a closer look at her makeup. He spots a purplish eyeshadow in her bag. "I’d say use this one."

Will knows that El will ask everyone’s opinion just to end up doing what she wants, and he loves that about her. But he also knows she likes it when people pay attention to the little details she cares about, so he always makes a comment to earn a giddy smile in return.

After watching her steady hands apply eyeliner perfectly for a few seconds, Will thinks… maybe she wouldn’t be the worst person to ask for help.

"El, do you, by any chance, know how to put on a tie?" he asks, holding up the tie and shrugging helplessly.

She nods enthusiastically, quickly setting her eyeliner aside. She takes the tie from Will and gestures for him to stand still. He lowers himself to her level, and in just a minute, she has it perfectly in place. Will stares at himself in the mirror in surprise, while El beams proudly at her work.

"I’ve lived with an old man for two years, Will," she laughs, then exhales in an exaggerated, dramatic way. "It gives you all those weird skills instead of being able to curl your long, beautiful hair. So I’m heading to Max’s now to get my hair done. No need to thank me. Just make sure you get your weird bed hair sorted in time." She ruffles his hair a little before leaving the bathroom, jumping on her feet excitedly. Will laughs and shakes his head.

Ever since Joyce and Hopper decided to officially become a family, ever since Hopper had proposed to Joyce over a beautiful, romantic dinner, El had been the most excited about their wedding and everything leading up to it. It was her first time attending a wedding, and it was her dad’s. It would be their first celebration together—just their loved ones, maybe not so crowded, but filled with the people who truly felt like family.

Will, on the other hand, had his own worries at the beginning, unlike El. And that was fair. Hopper had probably loved Joyce for as long as El had known him, but it was all a little new for Will. All he wanted was for his mom to be happy after everything they had been through. The thought of her standing next to a man who might one day upset her was enough to make him feel sick. It took him a while to work through those fears.

As the years went on and Will got older, he became even more protective of Joyce. Finally, he could be the one to take some weight off her shoulders, to handle things for her, she deserved to rest after all the sacrifices she had made for him over the years. So, when she told him she wanted to accept Hopper’s proposal, he didn’t voice his concerns aloud—but Joyce, as always, sensed his worries anyway.

Because it wasn’t just about her, it was about him too. Her marrying meant having a father figure in his life again. A father figure who might not accept him. A life where he might have to hide in his own home again.

Sensing his concerns, Joyce carefully orchestrated opportunities for them to spend more time together. She asked Hopper to drive Will somewhere, invited El and him over for Sunday breakfasts, and sometimes left Will with Hopper while she spent some “girl time” with El.

Will had always known Hopper as the cop who was a little angry, the one who hated Mike, the one who had once even threatened him. So, naturally, he was skeptical about opening up and kept his distance as long as he could.

But over time, it became clear that the angry cop could be a great father figure. He could even tell Will that he accepted him as he was, and that there was no form of love that wasn’t beautiful.

As they grew closer, and Hopper was gradually included in Will’s secrets, Will slowly started dismantling the walls he had built around himself. He had always been afraid of letting another man into their lives after everything it had taken to get rid of the last one. But he could see how different Hopper was, how he would go to hell for Joyce. How he carefully chose his words with Will, never stepping over boundaries or making careless comments about things he didn’t fully understand. Will noticed the light in Joyce’s eyes whenever she laughed around him. And most importantly, Hopper never looked at Joyce as if she were weak, and he never looked at Will as if there was something wrong with him.

Eventually, Will told Hopper, half-joking, that he was old enough to kill an old man if he ever hurt his mom. They both laughed, and Hopper pulled Will into a hug, promising that he would always do his best for their family.

And today there he was, still standing in front of the mirror, hair undone, with only fifteen minutes left until Mike would be at his door. The thought makes his face flush red for some reason. The idea of attending an event with Mike, as a couple, does something to him, even though they’ve been together for a few months now. He wishes he wouldn’t mess this up by getting all shy—it’s just Mike, after all.

He grabs the hairspray El insisted he buy, which he’s oddly grateful for. She’d been adamant that his hair had potential for curls and had shown him how to take care of it. She was right, obviously. Will sprays a generous amount and shapes his hair exactly the way El taught him. The curls spring to life, voluminous and well-defined. A final spritz locks the style, hopefully keeping it in place for the whole night.

The mixture of nausea and excitement hits him the moment he finishes and realizes all he can do now is wait for Mike. He starts pacing around his room, repeatedly glancing at his reflection. Just thinking about being Mike’s date tonight twists his stomach into knots if he dwells on it for more than three seconds.

As if that weren’t embarrassing enough, he tries dancing in case they’ll have to. He places his hands on the imagined partner’s shoulders and waist, taking a few steps back and forth as if slow dancing.

The second his eyes catch his own reflection in the mirror, he freezes, yanking his hands away as if they’ve been burned. His hands immediately cover his face as he steps back, mortified.

“Oh my god,” he mumbles behind his hands.

Then he hears the car pulling up outside, the horn blaring shortly after.

“Oh my god.”

He rushes back to the mirror for one last check, takes a deep breath, and sprints toward the door. He spends a minute waiting there, steadying his breathing and heartbeat.

“It’s just Mike,” he repeats to himself before finally opening it. His eyes immediately find Mike, leaning on his car, already staring at him. Mike waves.

Will smiles back as he closes the door and walks toward Mike.

Mike gets up from where he’s leaning, his eyes scanning Will from head to toe, and Will is sure he’s already about to explode under the attention.

“Hi.”

“You look… good. Really good.” Mike says instantly, sounding a little breathless. It’s so much like the first days of their relationship that it warms Will’s heart immediately. Seeing Mike in the same state as himself takes away some of his nervousness.

“You too.” Will replies simply, though he’s sure his voice betrays the awe anyway.

“Uh, should we get going now?” Mike asks, fidgeting with his hands and visibly blushing.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

When Will expects Mike to open the door for the driver’s seat, he just walks over to the side Will’s supposed to sit on. He opens the door and looks over at Will. Oh, god.

Will can’t help the smile tugging at his lips as he walks toward Mike. He slides into the passenger seat and settles in. Before Mike closes the door, he places a hand on it.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, looking up at Mike through his lashes.

Mike exhales a shaky breath, keeping his eyes locked on Will’s. He doesn’t reply for a few long seconds, and they just stare at each other. Then Mike gives him a smile, snapping out of his trance.

“Yeah, of course.” His low tone matches Will’s.

As Mike closes the door, he moves to his own driver’s seat and immediately opens the windows before even turning on the engine. Will steals a quick glance at him and sees him sweating visibly, and it’s not even a warm day. Will notes this down to tease him later—some time when he’s not internally dying too.

Eventually, Mike starts the car. It’s a quiet, nice moment despite the awkwardness. The clock shows around seven, the setting sun ahead of them, painting the sky in orange and pink. It’s so beautiful that Will’s fingers itch to draw. He turns toward Mike and sees an even better picture in front of him: the sun hitting Mike’s face at just the right angle, his eyes shining in thousands of shades of brown, perfectly matching his freckles. He taps his fingers mindlessly against the wheel, following the rhythm of the song, barely mouthing the lyrics. It’s all beautiful to look at.

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,

It touches my foolish heart.

He smiles big. Yeah, it’s a nice moment.

Mike catches his gaze and the attention makes him squirm a little, but he returns the smile.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asks, trying to break the awkwardness.

Will decides to be honest. “Nervous, awkward, and warm.” He laughs.

Mike exhales a long breath, as if he’d been holding it for a while, and laughs along.

“Jesus, me too! I don’t know what’s gotten into us.”

"It's so much like our first days, isn't it?" Will asks, both of them still laughing as the tension slowly fades.

"And…" Mike turns toward Will mid-sentence, pointing a finger at him in the air. "I'm not going through all that again." He adds, and with a quick move, grabs Will's hand.

Will can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He squeezes Mike's hand. Just like that, the awkwardness disappears completely, and they fall into their own, familiar rhythm.

"Why not? I thought it was cute."

"It is cute. But I don’t wanna squirm the whole night. I just wanna reach out and hold your hand, you know?" Mike turns toward Will as the laughter dies down, replaced by peaceful smiles.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too." Will gives another squeeze before letting Mike’s hand rest back on the wheel.

The wedding is happening in a field in a quiet part of Hawkins, organized by Steve and Robin and a few people they knew from their works. The rest of their drive to the field is peaceful. They sing along to the radio, hold hands, steal quick kisses when there are no cars around. It all makes Will feel more alive than he's ever been. He is 17 and in love and so, so happy. Sometimes, when he catches his own reflection on the glass, he barely recognizes himself—his cheeks flushed, lips aching from smiling.

At some point, their quiet music is ruined by an impatient car that keeps beeping the horn over and over again annoyingly. At first, Mike pretends not to notice, his hand tightening on the wheel, his jaw set. But after a few long honks it’s impossible to ignore.

Just when Mike’s about to look back from the window, the car comes into view as it pulls up beside them. And of course—who else could it be? Max pokes her head out from the passenger seat window, her hair whipping wildly in the wind, followed by El leaning out from the backseats.

“Hey losers!” Max yells, her grin wide and reckless, while Lucas edges the car even closer, laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Mike annoyedly shakes his head, though Will notices the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He knows Mike well enough to catch that almost-hidden smile.

“Race you to the field?” El shouts, her voice carrying over the rush of air between them.

“Loser has to drink till drunk!” Max adds, and both girls try to high-five from window to window, nearly falling out in the process.

“No fucking thanks, I’m not trying to die,” Mike yells back, gripping the steering wheel tighter, half laughing, half serious.

“Boring loser!” Max fires back immediately, practically screaming the words. She and El collapse into another fit of laughter, and for a second Will honestly thinks they already are drunk. But no—this is just them. Loud, carefree, alive. And somehow, watching them, Will feels lighter too, as if their joy spills over into him.

“You’re ruining your hair, just saying!” Mike yells, and for once he sounds like a dad instead of a teenage boy.

“Don’t care!” Max retorts, but before she can add more, El tugs her back inside the car, probably lecturing her about exactly how Mike’s right. Will chuckles to himself.

“They’re so…” he murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief, the fond smile refusing to leave his lips.

“They really are,” Mike finishes, this time openly laughing, his shoulders relaxing again.

And just like that, the irritation of the honking is gone, replaced with warmth—the kind that only comes from knowing you belong to a group of people who will never stop driving you insane, but will also never stop making life brighter.

Once they arrive at the field, almost everyone else is already there. Dustin is darting around after helping Steve with the music system, Jonathan adjusting his camera and making sure everything works fine, Robin and Nancy busy with fireworks and placing flowers on every table.

It’s a quiet kind of mess—chaotic but warm. Will instantly feels the difference in the air, like it’s not just a wedding but something theirs, something built by the people he loves most.

Within twenty minutes, almost everyone has gathered. Parents, close friends, siblings, Hop’s friends from work. It’s not really crowded, but even so, Will feels a knot forming in his stomach. For a second it threatens to overwhelm him.

Then his mom’s voice echoes in his memory, how she made sure he knows it'll be a safe place for him and that's what matter the most for her. And just like that, the knot loosens. He takes in the crowd again, this time with clearer eyes, realizing that more than half of these people would defend him in an instant if he ever needed them to. He instinctively scoots closer to Mike. Without a word, Mike throws an arm over his shoulder, anchoring him, holding him close. Will exhales softly and lets himself lean into it.

After everyone finds their places, Robin bounces over to them, her excitement impossible to contain. That’s Will’s cue—the ceremony is about to start. But before it does, there’s one person he needs to see.

“Robin, could you take me to her before it starts?” he asks, almost urgently.

She nods without hesitation, grabs his hand before saying a word, and drags him along with her usual determination.

They’ve brought Steve’s new caravan to the field so Joyce could get ready in it. Even before they reach the door, Will can hear laughter spilling out—the girls helping her, their voices light and happy. It makes his chest tighten in the best way.

He doesn’t wait. The moment he steps inside, his eyes land on her. Joyce’s reflection catches him in the mirror, and her whole face lights up instantly.

“Baby!”

Before she even has the chance to stand, Will rushes to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind the chair. He squeezes her tightly, like he’s five years old again and never wants to let go. She squeezes back as best she can, laughter caught in her throat.

“You look so handsome!” she says, spinning slightly in her chair so she can really look at him.

Will beams, his heart swelling. “Look at you, Mom!” he blurts out, almost in disbelief. She’s radiant. Different, lighter, glowing.

Joyce gives him an appreciative smile, one hand reaching for his. “Everything’s okay, right?” she asks, her voice softer now, searching his face.

Will tilts his head to the side, and in that moment he sees the resemblance in more than just their features. The little habits, the nervous gestures—he knows exactly where he gets them from.

“Of course,” he reassures, dropping to his knees in front of her chair so he can meet her eyes. “It’s your day. I should be asking you that.”

“I’m happy,” she replies simply, smiling in a way that tells him it’s the truth. And Will realizes he’s never seen her look so happy, so certain, so at peace. It’s all the reassurance he needs.

He squeezes her hands, grounding himself in the moment.

“Good,” he whispers, and he means it.

And before Will even understands what’s happening, El is dragging him out of the caravan, muttering something about how now it should be girls only and how the ceremony is about to start. He raises his hands in surrender and leaves without protest, laughing under his breath at her seriousness.

Back at the field, he finds Mike right where he left him. Will sits down on the chair Mike has kept for him, and almost immediately Mike throws an arm around his shoulders again, like no time has passed at all.

It’s only then Will notices the faint trace of Mike’s cologne. Something clean, sharp, but warm, too. Without even thinking, he leans into Mike’s side instinctively. Mike presses his face into Will’s curls in return, and Will lets out the smallest breath.

It feels… good. Better than good. To sit here in front of all these people and not have to hide. To let them know that they love each other and it doesn’t have to be a secret. It’s not dangerous, not wrong, not something to flinch away from. It’s right here.

At some point they both go to greet Mike’s family. His mom, Holly, and Nancy—just the three of them now. Karen pulls them both into warm hugs, holding on maybe a little longer than Will expects. Holly, of course, insists that she should be allowed to sit with “the boys,” tugging at Will’s sleeve and pouting dramatically when Karen shakes her head. She doesn’t win that battle, but she does manage to get a joint hug out of both Mike and Will, which seems to satisfy her for the moment.

By the time they return to their table, the air has shifted. The lights go out, plunging the field into a soft darkness. A hush spreads through the crowd, and then—slow music begins to play.

Will’s heart leaps instantly, pounding against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. He feels it not only for himself, but for his mom. For everything this moment means to her, for how long she’s waited, for how hard she’s fought just to have such kind of happiness. The weight of it all makes him dizzy, but in the best way.

Mike must sense it. His hand finds Will’s under the table, squeezing once, firm and steady. The silent I’m here.

Will lets the air out of his lungs slowly, his smile trembling but real.

The quiet music drifts across the field, mixing with the faint hum of crickets in the grass and the last glow of the setting sun. Everyone rises as Hopper takes his place at the front. His suit is slightly wrinkled, his tie maybe a little crooked, but the way he stands, shoulders back, chin up, it’s obvious how nervous he is at the moment too. Will can't help but laugh at his eyes going back and forth on the audience.

Then the music swells, just slightly, and Joyce appears.

For a heartbeat, everything stops. She steps out from the caravan, her dress flowing softly with each step she takes across the grass. Her hair, pinned back with small white flowers, glimmers in the light. She doesn’t look like the tired mom Will’s used to worrying about. She doesn’t even look like the Joyce who spends nights pacing around with a cigarette in hand. She looks radiant. Happy in a way Will has never seen before.

Will’s throat tightens instantly, his eyes burning. He doesn’t want to cry, but he also kind of does.

Mike’s hand squeezes his again, as if to anchor him. He doesn’t look over but he knows Mike is smiling too.

Joyce’s eyes flicker across the crowd, scanning until they find Will. Even in the middle of everything, she beams at him, just for a second.

When Hopper and Joyce finally say their vows, Will can’t hold it in anymore. The tears slip down his cheeks, but he’s smiling the whole time.

When they kiss, the whole crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Fireworks—Robin and Nancy’s doing—light up the sky in bursts of color. Joyce pulls Hopper into another kiss, laughing against his lips as sparks explode above them.

Will feels Mike’s arm curl tighter around his shoulders. He leans into him fully now.

“Must be a magical feeling,” Mike whispers, his voice low enough to be lost beneath the echo of cheers and the crackle of fireworks. He’s looking down at Will, his face carefully composed, almost unreadable, except for that unmistakable awe shimmering in his eyes.

Will can’t look away. The colors bursting above them reflect in Mike’s gaze, turning brown into flickers of red and gold, like tiny galaxies alive just for this moment. His chest feels too tight, he forgets the rest of the world around them for a moment. It's just them and something delicate between them.

“It must be,” Will finally manages, his own voice thinner than he intends, barely more than a breath.

Mike leans down and presses a quick, tender kiss to Will’s forehead, then he gently turns Will back to the scene unfolding in front of them. Together, they clap and cheer along with everyone else, their smiles mirroring the joy around them.

As the applause settles, the mood softens. The music shifts into a gentle, slow dance, filling the evening air with a quiet intimacy. Open Arms by Journey, Will recognizes.

Joyce and Hopper get the first dance, hands clasped, eyes locked so tightly that the rest of the world fades into a blur around them. Lucas is the first to rise, offering a hand to Max, who takes it with a laugh, and they drift into their own little bubble.

Lying beside you, here in the dark

Feeling your heartbeat with mine

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere.

Soon, the stage fills with couples. Jonathan pulls Nancy by the waist without asking, and she giggles, melting into his arms. El tugs Dustin along, their movements more playful than graceful, but the joy is unmistakable. The soft lights ripple across the crowd, reflecting in smiling eyes and shimmering hair. Robin gently takes Vickie’s hand, both of them hesitant yet sweetly nervous, stepping into the midst of the dancers. Before settling into the rhythm, Robin flashes Will a quick, mischievous wink, then places her hands on Vickie’s waist, completely focused on her and forgetting the rest of the world. Will can’t help but smile as he watches them all, caught up in their happiness.

Then the chair next to him shifts, and before Will can even turn to see, Mike is there, extending his hand. No trace of nervousness, not even a hint—just a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips as his eyes lock onto Will’s. Instinctively, Will takes Mike’s hand before a word is spoken.

“Dance with me,” Mike says softly.

“Are you—”

“Yes,” Mike interrupts, just as Will starts to protest, about how they don’t have to if he’s not comfortable. “I want to, if you want it too,” he adds.

Will smiles so wide it makes his cheeks ache for a moment. He rises from his seat, and in that instant, all the worries and nervousness from earlier dissolve. Everything heavy, everything bad, fades the second Mike’s hand is holding his.

They find their place among the couples on the dance floor. Mike’s hands slide to Will’s waist, drawing him as close as possible until their bodies press together. One of Will’s hands is guided to rest on Mike’s chest, the other settling on his shoulders. Mike keeps Will’s hand there, held gently but firmly, right over his heart, thumping like it wants to escape. Will leans in, letting their foreheads meet, and the urge to close the remaining space between them becomes almost unbearable.

And here you are, by my side

So now I come to you, with open arms

Nothing to hide, believe what I say

Will lets his head rest lightly on Mike’s shoulder, letting him take the lead in their slow dance. The warm, familiar scent of Mike’s cologne fills his senses, grounding him completely, while Mike’s hands trace gentle, soothing circles on Will’s waist. Nothing in the world has ever felt this safe. Nothing has ever felt better than being able to love so openly, right here, in front of everyone. Screw the dance, Will decides, and wraps his arms fully around Mike. Mike mirrors him instantly, their bodies holding onto each other as if the rest of the world has disappeared.

Max catches Will’s gaze and beams at him, instantly drawing Lucas’ attention. The four of them share a moment, smiling at each other, and Lucas gives them a small, approving thumbs-up. It’s a quiet acknowledgment, but to Will, it feels like the entire world is smiling back.

Being reminded of the world around them, Will’s eyes search for his mother. After a moment, he finds her—and she’s already looking at them, her gaze soft and filled with so much love. Seeing her still thinking of his happiness even during her own first dance fills Will’s chest with warmth. She gives him a small, subtle gesture with her closed eyes, and Will returns it with a genuine, heartfelt smile.

Just as the song nears its end, Will turns back to Mike and notices the way he’s searching for something, his expression open and hopeful. If they’ve made it this far, and this is their first dance together, Will thinks, fuck it.

He leans forward, closing the small space between them. Mike meets him halfway, pressing back with the same careful eagerness. The kiss is soft and tender, nothing like how they are in private, more restrained, but every second feels precious.

Max’s voice rings out with a cheer, quickly followed by overlapping laughter and applause from the other party members around them. They both laugh into the kiss before pulling back, breaking apart just enough to catch their breaths. When Will looks up, he sees nothing but love in Mike’s eyes—no embarrassment, no regret, no hesitation—just pure, unguarded love. He can’t help it, he just smiles.

They’re tugged out of their bubble when Max and El each grab an arm, pulling them toward the grass with mischievous grins. It’s to sprawl out on the field and drink while the party carries on around them, of course.

Steve appears like some kind of smug bartender, handing out bottles after loudly declaring Joyce and Hopper had given them permission “just this once.” The group erupts in cheers of his name, chanting like he’s the hero of the night.

“I’d think you little shits were already drunk if I didn’t know better,” Steve mutters as he turns away, though the laughter and shouting behind him only gets louder. Max takes charge immediately, cracking the bottles open and filling whatever cups they’ve scavenged, pressing one into each of their hands.

“Have you guys ever been drunk before?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Everyone but Lucas shakes their heads. She whirls toward him, and the two of them dissolve into laughter. “Holy shit, this is gonna be fun.”

Will stares at the cup in his hands for only a moment. He wants this, actually. He wants to lose control, but on his own terms, surrounded by the people who love him. He wants to wake up with a pounding head and a blank memory, laughing as someone fills in the gaps of the night before. So without another thought, he tilts his head back and downs the whole thing in one go, the burn making his eyes water, but he reaches for another anyway.

Mike watches him, brows climbing higher with every swallow. He takes the smallest sip from his own cup, eyes narrowing like he can’t decide if he should stop Will—or just admire the fire in him tonight.

He decides on the latter.

Will’s hazy eyes drift toward Mike’s cup, still almost untouched. “Why aren’t you drinking?” he slurs lightly, curiosity bubbling past the warmth spreading through his chest.

Mike chuckles, the sound low and easy, and reaches over to ruffle Will’s curls. “Because I’ve got someone to drive home tonight,” he says, smiling softly. “And someone to take care of—because he looks like he’s very determined to get drunk.”

Will tries to glare at him, but the grin breaking across his face ruins the effort completely. The tips of his ears are warm from more than just the alcohol. He mutters, “Okay, mom.” but he leans into Mike’s hand anyway, letting it stay there a second longer than necessary.

Max and El cheer him on as they down their own cups in record time, and soon enough they’re egging everyone else to keep up. Dustin takes advantage of Lucas’ tipsy state, coaxing a dramatic confession out of him that his so-called “favorite movie” actually sucks. Lucas protests weakly, but his laughter gives him away.

After a few more drinks, El and Max are completely gone—dancing in chaotic circles, tripping over their own feet, and dragging anyone within reach to join them. Max tugs at Mike’s arm insistently, but he resists, shaking his head and planting himself firmly on the ground. Turns out Max can still hurl insults at Mike even while drunk, and she does it with slurred enthusiasm.

When they go for Will next, he doesn’t put up much of a fight. He tries to get up, swaying with determination, but the moment he’s upright, he stumbles backward. Mike reacts instantly, catching him and lowering him gently back to the ground.

And Will, apparently, is a very clingy and talkative drunk. The second Mike’s hands steady him, he collapses onto the grass and lays on Mike’s lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His head tilts back, curls spilling everywhere, and he giggles when their eyes meet.

“I fell,” he announces between hiccup-like bursts of laughter, as if it’s the funniest revelation in the world.

Mike glances down at him, taking in the wide, shiny eyes, the dazed smile, the flush painting his cheeks pink from the alcohol. For a moment, he just stares. It takes him a couple of steadying inhales before he manages to answer.

“Yeah, you did,” he says softly, laughter escaping him too as his hand slips into Will’s curls, brushing them back despite how hopelessly mussed they are.

Will melts into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as if Mike’s lap really is the safest place in the world. He shifts his head slightly, like sleep might claim him right then and there.

“You make a good pillow,” he mumbles, words slurred and soft, almost lost in the noise of the party. His hand pats Mike’s leg lazily, like punctuation.

“I do?” Mike chuckles, raising a brow. If Will were sober, he’d be mortified to be doing any of this in front of their friends.

“Mhm,” Will hums, the sound more a sleepy sigh than an actual word. “I could decide better if you—” A hiccup interrupts him, making him wince before continuing. “If you stay over tonight.”

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up. That hadn’t been part of the plan. Apparently, Will had his own.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t keep talking,” Max mutters, and El immediately bursts into a laugh that sounds more like she’s choking.

Mike feels his face heat up instantly. “Shut the hell up.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to cuddle my boyfriend?” Will pouts, lifting his head just enough to glare at Max before turning those big, pleading eyes back to Mike. His tone drops dramatically, as if he’s acting out a tragic play.

“Nothing,” Max replies, smirking, “just gave me a little heart attack, that’s all.” She raises her hands like she’s surrendering.

Will ignores her and cups Mike’s face with both hands instead, squeezing his cheeks together until Mike’s lips pucker. His giggles bubble up uncontrollably as he tugs Mike down closer to him.

“Will you?” he asks, voice small and almost childlike, as if the wrong answer might actually break him.

Mike sighs, but his lips soften into a smile as he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Will’s nose. “I’ll see, okay?”

Will erupts into more giggles, eyes scrunching shut. “Tickled,” he manages between laughs, still holding onto Mike’s face like he’s never letting go.

“Good to know,” Mike says before leaning down to press more little kisses all over Will’s face, his hands wrapping firmly around Will’s body to keep him from protesting. Will giggles and mutters some nonsense between his laughter, hiccup-like and breathless, trying to push him away but without any real effort. His hands don’t even leave Mike’s shoulders, like he doesn’t really want him to stop.

Eventually, Mike takes pity on him and slows down, pressing one last kiss to his temple before resting his chin on top of Will’s curls. The two of them stay like that, listening to the muffled hum of music and the occasional burst of laughter from their friends. For a moment, it feels almost unreal, being here, at a wedding, out in the open, holding onto Will like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No hiding, no pretending. Just them.

He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until he feels Will shift against him. At first, Mike thinks it’s just another attempt to get comfortable, but then he notices the scrunch in Will’s face, the way his body tenses.

“Mike,” Will says suddenly, voice small but laced with panic. His wide eyes lock onto Mike’s, and Mike feels his stomach drop.

“What happened?” he asks quickly, concern rising in his chest.

“Think I’m gonna—” is all Will manages before Mike’s brain catches up.

“Shit.” Mike reacts instantly, sitting him up and guiding him over to the empty spot behind them. “Here, right here.”

Will barely has the chance to nod before he’s already throwing up, and Mike only just manages to hold him steady. Somewhere in the background, Max and El groan dramatically, while Lucas laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. Mike doesn’t pay them any attention. His focus is only on Will—keeping a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles, murmuring soft reassurances he’s not even sure Will can hear.

When it’s finally over, Will coughs a few times and leans weakly against Mike, his face pale and his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Why’d that happen?” he asks, his voice hoarse, still catching his breath.

Mike crouches a little to meet his eyes, handing him a wipe and steadying him by the shoulder. “What did you think was gonna happen when you drank almost the whole bottle?” he jokes gently, trying to lighten the mood.

“’M sorry,” Will mumbles, and his tone is so soft, so guilty, that it tugs at Mike’s chest. He shakes his head instantly.

“No, no—hey, I’m kidding. You had fun, right? That’s what matters. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.” He rubs Will’s arms up and down, grounding him, and watches as some of the tension eases from Will’s posture.

“Okay.” Will nods slowly, leaning into the touch, letting his breathing even out. For a moment, Mike just studies him—the trust in his eyes, the vulnerability, the way he still smiles through the mess of it. God, he loves him.

“But we’ve gotta take you home now,” Mike says softly, brushing a stray curl away from Will’s damp forehead. “It’s getting pretty late anyway. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, please.” Will sighs, almost relieved.

Mike helps Will sit up, steadying him as he blinks rapidly. “Alright… you’re up,” he says, voice gentle. Will leans into him instantly.

"We're leaving. Will's had enough fun tonight," Mike announces to their friends, hearing a few playful complaints in return—how they'll never let Will drink again, and other teasing remarks that leave them all laughing. The group murmurs their goodbyes as Mike walks over steadily, carrying almost all of Will's weight himself.

"Let's let your mom know first," he says, and Will gives a weak nod, swaying slightly.

They make their way over to Joyce, who is sitting with Hopper, laughing as they share a cake. Her face lights up when she sees them, but then her eyes widen in surprise at Will’s drunk state.

"Is that my son?" she asks dramatically, crouching just enough to get a proper look at his face.

"Oh. Hi, Mom," he mumbles, suddenly realizing she's right in front of him. She laughs, holding her hands up helplessly.

"I'm taking him home, don't worry," Mike reassures her, voice calm and steady. "Just wanted to congratulate you before we leave."

"Thank you, honey," Joyce replies, squeezing his arm gently. "Be careful with this guy." She gestures towards Will.

"Of course." He gives her a reassuring smile before walking over people having fun. Once they're out of the party, he slows their motions. They walk towards Mike's car slowly in silence. Will shivers a little in his arms.

“You’re so warm,” Will mumbles, pressing his forehead against Mike’s shoulder as they walk. “Like… stupid warm. You’re like… like a heater.”

Mike bites back a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s because you’re freezing.”

“’M not freezing,” Will protests, voice muffled into Mike’s shirt. “I’m… comfortable.” He giggles at his own words, almost tripping on the path, and Mike tightens his grip again.

Mike kisses the top of his head quickly, more for himself than for Will.

They reach the car, and Mike carefully props Will against the door while fishing his keys out of his pocket. He gets Will into the passenger seat, buckles him in carefully. Will’s eyes flutter closed as soon as his head touches the seat.

“Hey,” Mike whispers, brushing a damp curl off his forehead. “Stay with me just a little longer, okay?”

Will hums faintly, barely lifting his lashes. “Didn’t mean to ruin anything.” His voice is small, laced with guilt.

Mike shakes his head immediately, leaning closer. “You didn’t ruin a thing. Tonight was perfect. You were perfect.”

That earns him the faintest smile from Will, the kind that makes Mike’s chest tighten. He places a soft kiss against his temple before pulling back and starting the car.

As they drive off, the sounds of laughter and music fade behind them, replaced by the quiet hum of the road. Mike keeps glancing at Will, watching his breathing even out, he keeps mumbling some stuff that doesn't make any sense, but Mike listens anyway. The night feels softer, quieter, and somehow infinitely warmer with Will so clinging and talkative, trusting him completely.

Mike wonders how much of this is just everything Will had been holding back all this time, all the little pieces of himself that he can't bring himself to let anyone see.

They reach the Byers house after a short drive. Mike parks the car and looks over to Will, who's asleep and almost snoring. He doesn’t want to wake him up, but the keys are supposed to be in his pocket. Gently, he nudges Will’s shoulder, careful not to startle him. Will hums softly, blinking groggily, his curls falling into his face as he winces a little. Probably the first sign of a pounding headache.

"Hey, we're home. Give me the keys," Mike whispers, keeping his voice low. Will reaches into one of his jacket pockets, handing them over without opening his eyes fully. Mike steadies him as he climbs out, supporting most of his weight. Will is still half-asleep, leaning against Mike completely, barely lifting his own feet.

Mike manages to guide him across the porch and through the front door, careful around every step. Once inside, he leads Will directly to his room, keeping a steady arm around him. Will collapses onto the bed with a soft thud. Mike flicks on the little night light beside the bed, and Will immediately squints, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

"Too bright," he mumbles, voice thick and soft, peeking through his fingers with a sleepy expression. Mike sits on the edge of the bed, brushing a damp curl back from his forehead and keeping his hand gently on Will’s arm, letting him sink into the warmth and comfort of the familiar touch.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Just—Wait."

Mike heads toward the kitchen. He grabs a painkiller and a cup of water and places them carefully on Will's nightstand, then glances into Will's closet, picking out two pairs of pajamas.

"Hey, you gotta take these." Mike sits on the edge of the bed, gently nudging Will upright so he’s not slumped over completely. Will leans into him a little, and takes the painkiller without complaint, eyes drooping halfway closed.

"Can you change into your pajamas?" Mike asks, keeping his tone soft. Will nods slowly, still half in his own sleepy haze. But then his eyes flutter a little wider, a flicker of realization crossing his face.

"Are you leaving?" His voice comes out raspy and fragile. The look on his face makes Mike’s chest tighten, like he expects the world to vanish if Mike steps away.

"'Course not. I won't leave you alone at home like this." Mike squeezes Will’s hand gently, letting him feel the reassurance through the touch. "I’ll change in the bathroom."

Will leans back slightly, letting out a faint breath of relief, but his lashes still flutter. Mike just watches for a moment, making sure Will’s really okay before he moves toward the bathroom.

He leaves to change into the pajamas, freshly taken from Will’s closet, carrying the faint, familiar scent of Will and their home. It almost feels domestic for a moment. He expects to see Will under the covers, already asleep, when he returns to his room, but he’s sitting on the bed, eyes blinking slowly, still fighting to stay awake.

"Why didn't you lay down?" he asks as he closes the door and walks over to Will.

"Waited for you," Will mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

It’s so endearing that Mike feels like he might explode. He reaches out, hugging Will for a second before helping him lay down and pulling the sheets up over him. He presses a soft kiss to Will’s forehead before turning off the night light and sliding to the other side of the bed.

Will pulls him closer immediately, wrapping his arms around Mike and resting his head against his chest. It’s warm and quiet, the steady sound of their breathing mingling with the faint scent of freshly washed pajamas. Will lifts his head just enough to press a quick kiss to Mike’s chin before settling back against him, drifting almost instantly into sleep.

Yeah, Mike thinks, this is exactly how he wishes all his days would end.