Chapter Text
Mr and Mrs Wheeler were still recovering from being attacked by the demogorgon last month.
Will understood how hard it must be, trying to process that monsters had been real all along, that their children had spent four long years carrying the truth like it was normal. It was a lot for anyone to accept, but especially for two parents who had spent most of that time blissfully, completely unaware.
He also knew that Mike and Nancy hadn’t told their parents everything. They’d given… an edited version. A gentle version. One without the nightmare bits. Even that had been enough to shatter their parents’ understanding of the world.
And Holly… well, Holly had told her mum she’d been kidnapped by a monster and taken somewhere else. Will didn’t know how much she remembered, or how much she’d been encouraged to forget, but he knew enough to understand the quiet shadows behind her eyes.
Mrs Wheeler was still mostly bedridden, tired in a way that ran deeper than bruises. Mr Wheeler was still in the hospital. So Mike had taken it upon himself - quietly, instinctively - to make Christmas feel magical for Holly. To give her something normal. Something safe. Something magical.
So he planned. And fussed. And made little lists that he pretended weren’t lists. And Will helped with all of it, happily, because helping Mike felt warm and right and easy.
Which was how Will found himself in the Wheeler kitchen on Saturday afternoon, sleeves rolled up, apron tied crookedly around his waist, baking brownies with Mike and Holly.
Holly stood on a stool beside him, giggling as she stirred the bowl with absolutely no regard for the laws of physics. Chocolate batter splattered across the counter… and all over Will’s chin. He gasped and laughed at the same time.
Mike laughed too - bright, warm, that laugh that always made Will’s heartbeat lose its rhythm - and reached out to swipe the chocolate from his face with his thumb. Will’s skin tingled where Mike’s thumb had touched.
“You’re a mess,” Mike teased, tone full of fondness.
Will scrunched his nose, grabbed a pinch of flour, and flicked it straight at Mike’s chest. “You started it.”
Holly shrieked with laughter, small hands flying to her cheeks. “No food fights! Mom said no food fights!”
Mike gasped as if personally insulted. “Holly Wheeler, did you just tell me off?”
She nodded with fierce authority. “You’re supposed to be responsible!”
Will nearly folded in half laughing.
Mike pressed a hand to his chest like he’d been gravely wounded. “I am responsible!”
“Nope,” Holly and Will said together.
Then they blinked at each other, surprised, before bursting into giggles.
Mike rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away. “Alright, alright. Brownies first. Food fight later.”
“No food fight!” Holly repeated, scandalised. “I’m not cleaning that mess up.”
“Right… later,” Mike whispered to Will, eyes sparkling.
“Mike,” Will warned, but he was already giggling, warmth bubbling in his chest.
They poured the batter into the tray with Holly leaning against Will’s side, her hands steadying his. After all, Holly was definitely more capable at baking than Will was. Mike hovered close behind them, watching with this soft, glowing look - proud and gentle and so full of love that Will felt his chest wobble.
After the tray went into the oven, Holly tugged urgently at Mike’s sleeve. “Can we decorate cookies next?”
Will expected Mike to hesitate. They’d already turned the kitchen into a war zone with the brownies. But Mike only bent down, brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and said softly, “Yeah, Hols. We can do anything you want.”
That warm glow in Will’s chest flared again, soft and golden. He adored this version of Mike - gentle, careful, full of heart. He adored all versions of Mike, but this one… this one always undid him.
He smiled at both of them, unable to help the thought repeating itself like a mantra:
I love him. I love him. I love him.
Mike glanced up at him with a smile that felt like sunlight. “You okay if we bake cookies next?”
Will snorted affectionately. “As if I’d say no to cookies!”
Holly beamed like they’d just gifted her the world.
Two hours later, Holly was curled on the living room sofa, half-asleep, cartoons flickering softly across the tv. A plate with one cookie and one brownie balanced precariously on the armrest. The whole house smelled like chocolate and sugar and warm spice - safe and homely, like a hug.
Mike had gone upstairs with a drink and a cookie for his mom, and when he returned he wore that subdued expression - the one he always had after seeing her lying there, smaller than she used to be, hurting in ways he couldn’t fix.
Will had made a terrible joke about them needing a clean-up montage like in the movies. It wasn’t funny - objectively, painfully not funny - but it made Mike smile, which was the only result that mattered.
Now, Mike stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of icing that refused to move. Will dried the last of the bowls beside him, stacking them neatly and placing them back in the cupboard where they belonged. Every once in a while, he glanced at Holly to check she was still smiling, still safe, and the warmth in his chest spread further.
He loved being here. With Mike. And Holly. It felt like home. It felt like family.
Then Will looked sideways at Mike and said gently, “You’re a good brother, you know.”
Mike paused mid-scrub. His eyes flicked up, softening, that crooked smile appearing. The one that hit Will right in the lungs every single time.
“Yeah?” Mike asked, voice quiet.
“Yeah,” Will said, smiling before he could stop it. “You’re… really kind with her. She feels safe because of you.”
I feel safe because of you.
Mike blinked, slowly, like the words had landed somewhere delicate. His whole expression softened into something tender, almost shy. He set the cloth aside, wiped his hands on his jeans, then stepped closer.
Close enough that Will could feel the warmth rolling off him in waves.
Then, gently - impossibly gently - Mike cupped the back of Will’s head, fingers threading through strands of hair, and pressed a soft, warm kiss to Will’s forehead.
Will froze.
His breath vanished.
The moment stretched out, glowing and delicate, like time had spun a soft spell around them.
Mike lingered for a heartbeat, just long enough to make Will’s knees wobble, then pulled back, his eyes soft and searching. Will wanted to cry when Mike drew his hand back. He wanted Mike to never stop touching him.
“You’re good to Holly too,” Mike murmured. “And a good… everything.”
Everything.
Will’s heart did a full somersault.
He swallowed hard, trying to smile, but it came out wobbly and hopelessly fond. “Thanks,” he whispered, barely there.
Mike’s smile deepened, warm enough to melt snow, and he bumped their shoulders together before picking the cloth back up like he hadn’t just shattered Will’s entire universe with a single kiss.
A forehead kiss. But still a kiss. Mike’s lips had touched his skin and set Will’s entire body ablaze.
Will stood there for a moment, tea towel forgotten in his hand, dazed and glowing.
He knew, absolutely knew, he’d remember that tiny, perfect moment for the rest of his life.