Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Will doesn’t know when it started, or how it even became a thing, or how long it had been going on until Max pointed it out last weekend. And now it’s all he can seem to notice.

“Do you seriously just let him control you like that all the time? You’re not his fucking dog, dude.”

They had been getting ready in Will’s bedroom. The door was shut, and they were sitting on the floor side by side in front of his stand-up mirror, Max doing her makeup and then switching to his. They were going clubbing tonight. They had been planning it for weeks.

Mike had caught a glimpse of what Will was going to wear when Max knocked on the door and Will rushed out of his room, past Mike lounging on their couch, to answer it.

He had just opened the door and let her in, shutting it behind him, when Mike was already on his feet with his arms crossed in front of him.

He looked Will up and down, pausing at the large gap between his very short shirt and his very tight jeans. Will had a crop top on, and it showed off his toned stomach. It made him feel cute.

“Is that really what you’re wearing?”

His tone hadn’t been judgmental, just… concerned. Maybe. Will wasn’t sure. Because Mike definitely didn’t mind him wearing them around their shared apartment. He had even said they looked nice on Will in a casual compliment, so why did he care now?

Max scoffed, instantly defensive. “What’s wrong with what he’s wearing?”

Mike shrugged, still not looking at her. His attention stayed fixed on Will. “You look great. You always do.” The words came easily, but they didn’t soften anything. “I just think it’s a bit showy. Lots of creeps hang around clubs, Will. I just want you to be safe.”

He stepped closer as he said it, closing the space between them like it belonged to him.

Before Will could react, Mike reached out, his fingers catching lightly at the hem of his shirt. He tugged it down an inch, like he was fixing it. Like it needed fixing.

Like Will hadn’t put it on himself.

“You don’t need that kind of attention,” he added, quieter now.

The touch only lasted a second, but the feeling of Mike’s knuckles brushing across his abdomen still lingered.

Mike’s hand dropped, but he didn’t step back. He tilted his head down a little, forcing Will to meet his eyes.

“I think you should change, yeah?”

It didn’t really sound like a suggestion.

Max scoffed again. “Who the fuck do you—”

Will spoke up, stopping her before she could continue.

“No, he’s—he’s right, Max. I don’t really want all the attention. It might give people the wrong idea.”

Max looked at him, baffled, then back at Mike with her mouth slightly open and an eyebrow raised.

Then she rolled her eyes and walked toward Will’s room.

“Whatever. Let’s finish getting ready.”

Will turned to follow her, but he caught Mike’s eye first. A small, satisfied smile pulled at the corner of Mike’s mouth. It made Will’s chest warm and his cheeks flush. He smiled back before heading into his room.

Max just didn’t understand them. Mike had always looked out for him, ever since they were little. Will had done the same for him, just in different ways. Mike just had a protective nature. And after everything they had been through, it may or may not have gotten a little extreme sometimes. They had formed a kind of codependency that might seem odd to most people, but that was just them. Mike and Will.

Mike was a good friend. A great friend. His best friend.

“You seriously need to set boundaries with him, Will,” she continued, rubbing glitter onto his eyelid with her fingertip.

“It’s really not like that, Max. He just worries, that’s all.”

Max pulled her hand back and gave him a look. “Yeah, or he’s just controlling and thinks he owns you.”

Will rolled his eyes, but her words made him blush. “Fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to him about it, okay?”

Max just laughed like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Yeah, sure.”

All it took was Max asking that one simple question. Now here he was a week later, lying sideways on his bed with his legs dangling off the edge, staring at the ceiling and thinking about it.

He thought Max was just overreacting. He told himself, again, that she just didn’t understand their dynamic.

Maybe Will was a little biased, because he had been secretly in love with Mike for as long as he had known what liking boys like that even meant.

Maybe he would bend over backwards for Mike and do anything he asked, as long as he said it in that voice he only ever used for Will, because Will was just that pathetic.

Because maybe, even if Max was right, Will didn’t think he would mind as much as he should.

Maybe he liked the idea of it. And maybe that said more about him than he was willing to admit.

Pathetic.

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face, groaning into it as he kicked his legs in frustration.

A voice snickered. “You okay?”

Will jumped and threw the pillow off his face, propping himself up on his elbows. Mike was in the arch of his now open bedroom door.

Will rolled his eyes. “Do you ever knock? Am I gonna have to start locking my door?”

Mike let out a quiet laugh, pushing off the doorframe.

“You could,” he said easily. “But you won’t.”

Will could feel his cheeks starting to warm.

Then Mike stepped fully into the room anyway, just because he could.

Will watched him cross the space. Mike didn’t stop at the edge of the bed. He kept going until he was right in front of him, almost between his legs, close enough that Will had to tilt his head back to keep looking at him.

“What’s up with you?” Mike asked, softer now, more focused. His eyes flicked over Will’s face like he was trying to piece something together. “You’ve been weird all week.”

Will scoffed, looking away. “I’m not being weird.”

“Yeah,” Mike muttered, unconvinced. “You are.”

There was a pause, and Will hesitated. This was where he could say it.

Do you seriously just let him control you like that all the time?

His fingers curled slightly into the sheets.

“It’s just—” he started, then stopped.

“Just what?” Mike pressed.

Will exhaled, shaking his head like he could brush it off. “Nothing. Max just got in my head about something.”

Mike’s expression changed almost instantly. Not dramatically, just… more solid.

“About what?” His voice came out lower, deeper.

It sent a cold chill up Will’s spine.

Will huffed out a small, awkward laugh, like it was stupid. “It’s nothing, seriously. She just—she thinks you’re, like…” He trailed off again, glancing up at him.

Mike didn’t say anything this time. He just waited silently.

It made Will’s stomach twist.

“…controlling,” he finished quietly, lowering his chin to break eye contact.

Mike bent his knees and settled between Will’s parted legs. He rested his hands on Will’s bare thighs, and Will sucked in a shaky breath, goosebumps rising where his skin met the warmth of Mike’s touch.

He was close enough now, at eye level, that Will couldn’t really look anywhere else without it being obvious.

“And you think that?” Mike asked, his thumb tracing small circles into the skin of Will’s thigh.

His tone was soft again, gentle, like it always was with him.

Will swallowed. “No. I mean… she’s just overreacting. She doesn’t get it.”

“Doesn’t get what?”

The question came quickly this time.

Like he wanted an answer.

Will’s pulse picked up, and he hated how aware he suddenly was of how close Mike was. His eyes flicked down to Mike’s hands, large against the skin of his thighs, nearly covering them.

It made his head feel light.

“Us,” he said quietly. “How we are.”

Mike’s gaze didn’t leave him.

Then, slowly, his hand slid up, his fingertips slipping just under the hem of the soft cotton shorts Will was wearing.

Will’s eyes fluttered, his heart pounding hard against his chest. Mike still didn’t break eye contanct.

“Yeah,” Mike said finally, even softer now. “She doesn’t.”

Will couldn’t handle it. He turned his head slightly and looked away. He cleared his throat, and that was when Mike stood, sitting beside him on the mattress instead. His fingers found Will’s chin, turning his head so their eyes met again.

“You know I’m always just looking out for you, right?” he added.

Will nodded a little too quickly. “I know.”

Mike studied him for another second.

Then his hand moved, hooking lightly at the hem of Will’s shirt this time, giving it a small tug downward before smoothing it out.

His hand traveled lower, playing with the string at the front of Will’s shorts.

Casual, like it was nothing. Like he had done it a hundred times, even though he hadn’t. That one was new.

“Good,” he murmured.

Then he let go, straightening up like the moment had never happened.

“Get up,” he said, his tone shifting lighter. “You’ve been laying here all day.”

Will hesitated for only half a second, then sat up, moving like the damn obedient puppy he was, following Mike out of his room like it was his only option.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

A few weeks later, it was a Friday night. Will was standing in front of his closet in nothing but his socks and black boxer briefs, his hair still damp from his shower. He rummaged through every article of clothing he had, trying to find something that felt right enough for the occasion.

He groaned, flipping through the rack for the third time, still not satisfied.

“Going somewhere?”

Will nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to see Mike leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a small smile on his lips.

If Will wasn’t mistaken, Mike’s eyes had been cast downward just as he turned around. He had only caught a glimpse of it.

Was he staring at my—
No. Definitely not.

Still, Will’s face flushed as he tried to swallow the thought down.

“You really need to stop doing that.”

Mike walked into the room and flopped down onto the edge of Will’s bed.

“Stop doing what?” he asked innocently, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Mike’s eyes flicked over his body. Will caught it for sure this time, but it was so quick he would have missed it if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

Suddenly aware of how bare he was in just his underwear, Will scoffed and turned back to his closet, continuing to look while trying not to seem affected by the presence of Mike Wheeler.

But his whole body burned. He felt like there were eyes on him the entire time.

“So… where are you going?” Mike asked again.

Will sighed, still annoyed that he hadn’t decided what to wear yet. “My friends from figure drawing class are having a small get together.”

“Ah. So basically a party for a bunch of pretentious artists.”

Will paused and looked over his shoulder at Mike, giving him a playful glare.

“Oh, shut up. Like any of your friends in your creative writing class are any different.”

Mike grinned, raising his hands in defense. “Touché.”

Will shook his head and turned back to his closet. He heard the bed creak behind him, assuming Mike had decided to leave, but then he felt a presence behind him.

His entire body stiffened when he felt Mike’s hand, large and warm, settle against his hip. The fabric of Mike’s shirt brushed against his bare back as he reached over Will’s shoulder, pulling a biscotti yellow sweater off the hanger.

The hand on Will’s hip gently turned him around. Without asking, Mike bunched the sweater up and pulled it over Will’s head, guiding his arms through the sleeves.

“This sweater looks good on you,” he said, tugging it down and smoothing it into place.

Will blinked a few times as Mike turned to his dresser and dug around, pulling out a pair of medium wash jeans.

He crouched in front of him and motioned for Will to step into them. Will obliged, and Mike slid the jeans up his legs. His thumbs brushed along the curve of Will’s ass as he tugged them into place.

Will was sure his face had turned bright red.

Because what the hell? Mike had never dressed him like this.

Mike’s fingers slipped along the inside of the waistband until he reached the front, buttoning them easily and zipping them up.

Okay way too fucking close to my ‘no no’ spot Mike, good god.

Will had to resemble a tomato at this point.

“You shouldn’t have to think so much all the time, Will,” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. Will’s mouth parted slightly.

Then Mike grabbed his Doc Martens and helped him slide them onto his feet, kneeling in front of him with Will’s foot propped against his thigh as he laced each shoe carefully.

“Just let me do the thinking for you, okay? Let me take care of you.”

He finished and stood.

When Will didn’t answer, Mike stepped closer. His hands came up to rest on Will’s arms, steadying him as he tilted his head down so they were eye to eye.

“Okay?” he said again, his voice soft in a way that made Will melt.

Will just stared at him, dazed, and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Something flickered across Mike’s expression, something Will couldn’t quite place, but the corners of his lips lifted slightly. Will found himself staring at his mouth for a second too long.

Then Mike reached out and lightly pinched the tip of Will’s nose between his fingers.

“Okay,” he repeated quietly, before turning away.

He paused at the doorway. “Don’t drink too much. Call me if you need me. And don’t be out too late, okay?”

Will nodded again, still hazy from whatever had just happened. Mike’s smile deepened, and then he was gone.

Will cupped his hands over his face and shook his head into them. He should not be this giddy over that kind of attention.

Mike had only just picked out his outfit, dressed him, told him to let him take care of him. Jesus. Mike was such a good friend, but God, it made it harder for Will not to fall deeper in love with him. It was going to end up killing him, he was almost sure of it. And the way he had looked at him…

God, he was just so—

Wait.

Did he just say not to stay out too late?

Will stilled, dropping his hands and glancing around the room.

Do you seriously just let him control you like that all the time?

Yeah, apparently he did.

But it wasn’t like it was something to be concerned about, right? Mike wasn’t forcing him to listen. Will listened because he trusted him. Mike loved him. Maybe not in the way Will so clearly loved him, but he still did nonetheless. He was just looking out for him. And Will would swim oceans and move mountains for Mike if he asked.

Still, there was a small, nagging part of him that wanted to push back, just to see what would happen. Because Will had always listened to Mike.

But what if he didn’t this time? What if he drank as much as he wanted and stayed out late? He was a grown adult. He could do whatever he wanted.

Even thinking about it made him feel strange. He didn’t want to upset Mike. He wanted to be good for him.

He groaned, grabbed his keys, and finally left his room, stomping toward the front door.

He really was so pathetic.

When he got to the party, the music was louder than he expected. Not overwhelming, but enough so to fill his head, enough that he didn’t have to think too hard if he didn’t want to.

Will lingered near the kitchen counter, a red plastic cup in hand, his fingers curled tightly around it like it was grounding him.

Across the room, people from his class were scattered in small groups, talking, laughing, leaning into each other.

He should go join them.

Instead, he took another sip.

Then another.

The burn settled deep in his bloodstream until his shoulders loosened slightly.

Don’t drink too much.

Will exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He lifted the cup again, hesitating for just a second before drinking longer this time. Almost like he was trying to prove something to himself.

The warmth settled in his chest, spreading slowly, loosening something that had been wound tight all night.

“Hey.”

Will startled, lowering the cup as someone stepped up beside him. He turned, blinking once before recognition finally hit him. A guy from his class. The face was familiar, even if the name wasn’t.

Taller than him, not by much, but enough that Will had to tilt his chin slightly to meet his eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes, dressed in a way that looked put together without trying too hard.

“You’re Will, right?” he asked, a small smile forming. “I’m Ben.“

He held his hand out casually.

Will shifted his cup to his other hand and took it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I recognize you.”

Ben’s hand was warm, his grip easy and comfortable. Will held on for a second longer than necessary before letting go, his fingers lingering just slightly.

“Yeah?” Ben said, his smile widening. “That’s good.”

It made Will blush, heat creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks. Or maybe it was the alcohol, who knows.

Ben was cute. Not cute like Mike, though. The thought came automatically. He tried to brush it off, but it lingered anyway.

God. Why did he keep doing that?

He looked back at Ben, trying to reset, trying to just see him for who he was without comparing him to someone else.

Ben was cute.

That should be enough.

It was enough.

Right?

Because if he kept comparing every guy to Mike, then what? He would never move on. He would just keep searching for pieces of him in everyone else.

Was that what he was going to do for the rest of his life? Just keep looking?

In every smile, every voice, every hand that reached out?

Will sighed quietly, forcing himself to focus.

Will’s eyes drifted before he could stop them, a quick glance down and over, taking him in. It felt subtle, like something he could get away with.

Until he looked back up and saw that Ben was watching him closely with a brow raised. There was a small, knowing smirk on his lips, like he had caught it, like he knew exactly what Will had just done.

Will’s stomach dropped, heat rushing up his face again.

Oh.

Oh, he definitely noticed.

A small, breathy laugh slipped out before Will could stop it, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled, a little more embarrassed than he wanted to be.

Ben’s smile widened. “Don’t be.”

He glanced over Will’s shoulder at an empty loveseat and tilted his head toward it. “You wanna sit and talk for a bit?”

Will turned, looked at the couch, then back at him with a small grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Ben’s hand rested lightly on his lower back as he guided them over. They sat, turning toward each other, mirroring each other’s posture.

They talked and refilled drinks, mostly Will’s, because he just kept knocking them back. Ben was funny. Or maybe everything just felt funnier now. Either way, Will felt good. Loose. And Ben seemed to be enjoying himself too. At one point, his hand rested on Will’s knee as they talked.

It made Will blush all over again.

Eventually, the party started to thin out, and Will was without a doubt, completely and undeniably drunk.

He looks down at his watch and either it’s onety one pm or onety four two. Cool, not that late, everyone else must be party poopers.

“It’s getting pretty late, do you want me to walk you home?” Ben asks.

“Huh? How late is it? I swear the clock just said onety one pm,” Will slurs, still staring at his watch like it might suddenly start making sense if he looks at it long enough.

Ben laughed. “Okay, yeah. I’m definitely walking you home. Where do you live?”

That was how Will ended up walking home with a cute guy’s arm hooked into his. He stumbled every other step, and Ben steadied him each time. Luckily, the walk wasn’t far, and Ben didn’t seem to mind. They kept laughing the whole way, especially when Will nearly tripped again.

When they reached his and Mike’s apartment, Ben finally let go and turned to face him.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight, Will.”

Will caught his bottom lip between his teeth, noticing Ben’s gaze drop to it.

“Yeah. Me too.”

One second they’re staring quietly at each other, and the next, Will barely registers the shift before they’re kissing. Ben backs him up against the apartment door, and Will gasps into it as the impact knocks the breath from his chest. Ben’s lips trail down the side of his jaw and along his neck, lightly sucking as he goes.

A soft, breathy moan slips out of him and he quickly bites down on his lip to muffle it.

Will hasn’t been laid in a while. Not since he and Mike moved in together at the start of sophomore year. And that’s been what? Almost a year?

Yeah, he’s definitely about to make a reckless, drunken decision he might regret in the morning. But right now, all he can think about is getting fucked.

Maybe it’ll clear the fog of Mike clouding his brain lately. At least he hopes it will for a little while.

He pulls back from Ben, both of them panting.

“You wanna…” Will tilts his head back toward the door.

A silent request for, ‘I’m horny, do you want to come in and fuck my brains out real quick and then leave?’

Ben gets the message immediately. He nods eagerly, his eyes flicking down to Will’s lips again. “Yeah—fuck, yeah. Let’s go.”

Will nods, and he fumbles to get the keys out of his pocket, as soon as he does he instantly drops them, causing a loud clatter to boom down the hallway. They both giggle too loud and Will shushes him.

“We have to be quiet, I have a roommate.”

Ben nods, and takes his fingers pretending to zip his mouth shut. It only makes them giggle again.

Will finally manages to shove the keys in after a few tries and that’s when the door opens and Will stumbles into a very tired looking Mike.

Mike steadies him and instantly straightens him out. When Will looks up to see the look on his face, it’s almost enough to sober him up… almost.

His expression is etched into a deep frown. Then his eyes flick to Been standing directly behind him.

It only makes his face harden more.

Will let’s out a fit of giggles. Nothing is funny, he’s just drunk off his ass, extremely nervous, and slightly mortifed that he got caught about to sneak a guy in.

“I got it from here, thanks.” Mike casually says to Ben without looking at him. His eyes are focused solely on Will now.

“Wait wha—“

Will tries to argue, but Mike is already dragging him into the apartment, slamming the door in Ben’s face.

He lets go of Will, but he’s still crowding him against the shut door.

Will furrows his brows and turns to try to open the door but Mike slaps a palm against it, caging him in, while keeping the door shut. He sides the hand down the wood slowly and then locks the door.

Will turns around and scowls at him, then he snaps. “What the fuck, Mike?”

Mike scoffs.

“Yeah what the fuck, Will? Do you have any idea what time it is?” He snaps right back at him.

Will laughs, “What are you, my dad? Should I start calling you daddy?” He slurs out.

Mikes eyes widen and his face starts to turn red.

“Don’t say shit like that, Will. Jesus Christ.”

“What? You got some kind of daddy kink I dunno about?” He snickers.

Mikes head drops on his shoulder and he groans, “Jesus—no. God you’re so drunk.”

“As a skuuuuunnnkkk.” Will sing songs.

Mike chuckles against him and lifts his head back up, quirking an eyebrow. “I thought I told you not to drink too much.”

He’s so close that Will can feel his breath fanning across his face. It causes him to suck in a shuddered breath and force every nerve ending that controls his eye muscles to not glance down at his lips.

He does it anyway.

“Yeah well, you tell me to not do a lot of things,” he whispers, still staring at Mike’s plump pink lips.

When he looks back up, he sees Mike doing the same. His eyes are locked on Will’s lips and he has a look in his eye Will doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Holy shit.

He lets out a nervous giggle and covers his mouth, trying to stifle it but it’s no use. He keeps giggling.

Mike looks up, and the corners of his mouth lift. And God—he’s so pretty. Will thinks he could die right now. If God decided to strike him down in this exact second, and the last thing he ever saw was Mike Wheeler this close, he thinks he’d leave this world as a happy man.

He’s got to get a grip before he does something stupid like try to kiss him.

Or…

No—no fuck that, that is a bad idea. Abort Will, a-fucking-bort. You’re drunk and horny.

Speaking of horny.

He shoves at Mike’s chest, and eases his way around him, “Thanks for cock blocking me by the way.”

Mike doesn’t react right away.

Will keeps moving, already halfway into the living room, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to shake off the moment at the door, like it didn’t matter that much anyway.

Mike follows a second later.

“Wait, what? You weren’t seriously gonna fuck that guy, right?” he asks, voice louder than it needs to be in the quiet apartment.

Will lets out a short, disbelieving laugh as he turns around, eyebrows pulling together. “What do you mean, ‘seriously’?”

Mike’s expression tightens, something unsettled flickering across his face that he doesn’t quite manage to hide. “I mean—” He gestures vaguely back toward the door, like Ben is still standing there. “You don’t even know him.”

Will scoffs, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I know him enough.”

“That’s not—” Mike cuts himself off, jaw tightening as he exhales through his nose. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mike?” Will shoots back, his tone still light, still a little slurred, but definitely pushing.

Mike steps closer again without really thinking about it, closing the space between them like he did before, like it’s instinct at this point.

“The point is you’re drunk,” he says, like that should explain everything. “You’re not thinking straight.”

Will huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shit. I’m gay.”

Mike’s mouth twitches despite the irritation written all over his face. His eyes narrow, then he rolls them, gaze dragging over Will like he’s trying to assess just how out of it he really is before conversing any further. Still, he carries on.

“And what, you’re just gonna bring some random guy back here?” he presses, voice dropping a little lower now, tighter. “Into our apartment?”

Will’s shoulders tense just slightly at that.

“Our apartment?” he repeats, tilting his head. “Or your apartment?”

Mike falters, just for a second. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It kinda sounded like it,” Will mutters, shifting his weight, the alcohol making him a little bolder than he usually would be. “And for the record, you don’t get to decide who I hook up with.”

Mike’s jaw clenches.

“I’m not trying to decide,” he says quickly, but it doesn’t sound entirely true. “I’m just saying maybe don’t make a dumb decision you’re gonna regret in the morning.”

Will lets out another laugh, softer this time, but there’s an edge to it now.

“God, you sound just like yourself,” he says, almost to himself. “Always telling me what to do, what not to do…”

Mike’s expression shifts at that, something more complicated slipping in. “That’s not—”

“It’s fine,” Will cuts in, waving a hand like it doesn’t matter, even though it clearly does. “You already made the decision for me anyway, right? Slammed the door in his face and everything. Real subtle.”

Mike’s eyes flicker, something like guilt or maybe defensiveness flashing through. But Will barrels on.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair. "You know what? Maybe Max was right.”

Mike stills slightly. “What?”

Will looks back at him with gaze that's a little more grounded despite the alcohol still sitting heavy in his system. “About you,” he says, voice quieter but cutting. “About how you act with me.”

Mike actually looks offended now, maybe even a little hurt. “Will.”

“No, seriously,” Will cuts in, the words coming easier now that he’s started. “Maybe you are too controlling.”

Mike’s face suddenly shifts, like whatever softer edge was there before just got wiped clean.

“Oh yeah?” he shoots back quickly. “You gonna stand there and act like you don’t like it?”

Will falters completely. His breath catches, the words hitting somewhere deeper than he wants them to, somewhere he doesn’t have time to cover up before it shows. For a split second, he doesn’t have anything to say. His stomach twists, something hot and uncomfortable rushing up his chest, not quite embarrassment, not quite anger. Or maybe it is. Maybe it's both tangled together.

Because it’s not fair.

It’s not fair that Mike gets to say that out loud.

It’s not fair that he knows.

Will swallows hard, straightening a little, forcing himself to push past it, to grab onto something solid again.

“Wow,” he finally says, letting out a disbelieving laugh, even if it comes out a little thinner than he wants it to. “That’s—wow, okay. Fuck you, Mike.”

He turns on his heel before Mike can say anything else. “I’m going to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He just walks, a little unsteady but determined, heading down the short hallway toward his room.

“Will. Wait.”

Mike’s voice is softer now, but Will ignores it and keeps walking.

He can hear Mike behind him a second later anyway, footsteps quick, closing the distance, and something about that alone makes Will’s stomach bubble with nerves. He picks up his pace without meaning to, like he’s trying to outrun the conversation, outrun whatever the hell that just was.

“Will—”

“I said I’m going to bed,” Will snaps over his shoulder, not turning around.

He makes it halfway down the hall before a hand wraps around his wrist.

Will freezes. His heart is beating too fast now, for too many reasons at once.

“Let go,” he says, but it comes out quieter than he means it to.

Mike doesn’t. His grip isn’t tight, but it doesn’t loosen either. It just stays there, steady, like he’s not even considering the possibility that Will might actually pull away.

“Don’t walk away from me like that,” Mike says, and his voice isn’t soft anymore, it’s thin like he’s running out of patience again already.

Will lets out a breath through his nose, eyes squeezing shut for a second before he opens them again. Slowly, he turns around.

“Or what, Mike?” he asks, voice quieter now, but still on edge. “What are you gonna do?”

Will watches him, waiting. When Mike doesn’t respond quick enough, he presses more.

“Go on,” his voice a little breathier now, but still holding his ground. “You gonna drag me back to my room? Ground me? Tell me what I can and can’t do again?”

There’s a flicker of something in Mike’s eyes at those words. Something a little darker than regular anger.

“Yeah,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “I just might have to do that.”

Will’s breath stutters as Mike walks forward. And Will—without even realizing it—steps back to match him. His heel catches slightly on the floor, and then his shoulders hit the wall behind him, the movement stopping him short.

Mike closes the space until there’s barely anything left between them, one hand still loosely wrapped around Will’s wrist, the other coming up to brace against the wall beside his head.

“You think I won’t?” Mike murmurs, his voice still low.

Will swallows and suddenly his throat feels dry.

“I—” he starts, but nothing really follows.

Mike just watches him.

Then he clicks his tongue softly against the roof of his mouth. His head tilts slightly to the side, eyes dragging over Will’s face like he’s taking something in, like he’s deciding something. Then he nods his head toward Will’s bedroom, a small, almost casual gesture.

“You can go to bed now, Will.”

His voice is calm again. Normal. Like nothing just happened.

Like he didn’t just have him backed against a wall, breathing too fast, thinking too much.

Will blinks, still a little dazed, still trying to catch up.

Mike’s eyes flick down then, agonizingly slow as they drag from Will’s eyes to his mouth, lingering there just a second too long before lifting again.

“I think it’s best if we finish this conversation when you’re sober.”

Will nods, his body still buzzing in a way he doesn’t know what to do with.

He’s pretty sure—actually, no. He’s definitely sure that whatever the hell that just was sobered him up more than anything else tonight.

The haze is still there, lingering at the edges, but his head feels clearer now. Too aware of everything that’s happening.

Then Mike moves. It’s abrupt enough to make Will flinch. One second he’s there, close, solid, filling up all the space in front of him—and the next he’s pushing himself off the wall, like something in him just snapped back into place.

Mike’s already moving down the hall like none of that just happened, like it didn’t linger in the air between them, thick and unfinished. He pauses with his hand on his bedroom door that's directly across from Will’s. He turns his head, looking over at Will's trembling frame with that same dark cast in his eyes. Will watches as his jaw locks to one side, his gaze lifting again until it pins him in place.

Then he turns the handle and slips into his room, slamming the door harder than necessary as he goes. The sound makes Will flinch all over again.

He slumps against the wall, head tipping back against the dry plaster. His eyes squeeze shut as he drags in a slow, steadying breath.

He is so fucked.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Will wakes with a dull, aching throb behind his eyes and a bitter taste coating his mouth. He smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times, trying to gather any moisture in the dryness. It only makes the bitterness worse, and he gags slightly.

He finally sits up, and the room immediately tilts, spinning just enough to make his stomach drop. He’s extremely hungover. He definitely drank way too much.

But unfortunately not enough to forget what happened between him and Mike last night.

It all comes crashing back in, and he physically recoils at the memory.

He exhales shakily and drags a hoodie on, pulling it over his head, then grabs a baggy pair of sweatpants and pulls them on over his legs.

Everything is oversized, nothing like the dainty, carefully chosen pieces he normally wears. Today, he wants to disappear inside himself a little.

He pulls the hood up like it might camouflage him and silently prays Mike is still asleep, or at least doesn’t hear or see him.

He slowly twists the doorknob and cracks the door open just enough to peek out.

Soft rustling comes from the kitchen.

Fuck.

He opens it a little more and quickly tiptoes down the hallway to the shared bathroom.

He slips inside, closing the door carefully behind him, and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He does what he needs to do, then brushes his teeth, scrubbing at the lingering taste in his mouth.

He briefly considers a cold shower to shock the hangover away, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to risk being in here any longer than necessary, not if it means possibly running into Mike.

Right now, he just wants to get back into bed and sleep the day away.

He turns the bathroom doorknob slowly, just like before, and slips back into the hallway. He moves quickly but quietly, easing back into his bedroom and carefully closing the door behind him so it doesn’t click too loudly. Once it’s shut, he slowly turns the lock into place, barely making a sound.

He exhales, his shoulders finally dropping.

Mission accomplished.

He turns, already ready to crawl back into bed, then pauses.

On his nightstand sits a large glass of water and two Tylenol.

Leave it to Mike Wheeler to still take care of him, even when he’s clearly being avoided.

A sharp pang of guilt flickers in his chest.

He’ll deal with that later—with Mike—later. Right now, he just needs sleep. He can’t think about anything else feeling like this.

He swallows the pills and drains almost the entire glass of water.

Sleep doesn’t come easily at first. He drifts in and out in restless waves, his body aching and his head pulsing like it’s stuck on a timer he can’t shut off. He keeps shifting positions, trying to find something that doesn’t hurt.

Eventually, the Tylenol starts to kick in, the edges of the pain softening, and he finally slips under completely.

By the time he wakes up, it isn’t on his own accord. A large but gentle hand nudges his shoulder.

“Will. Wiiillllllllllll.” He faintly hears Mike whisper.

Will groans and his eyes finally flutter open. His whole room is dark, the only light is from the hallway seeping through his now open bedroom door.

Well, he’s definitely slept the entire day. He could still sleep more, to be honest.

He whines and rubs his eyes with the backs of his fingers, then yawns and yanks the covers over his head.

“Just a few more hours,” he mumbles.

Mike snickers. “You’ve been asleep all day, baby.”

Will’s eyes pop open under the covers.

Is he dreaming? Is he still asleep?

Because he could’ve sworn he just heard Mike fucking Wheeler call him baby.

Before he can really process what the hell he just heard, Mike is already pulling the covers off his head.

Will whines and tries to grab it back, but Mike knocks it out of his reach. “Ah ah ah. It’s time to get up. Come on.”

Will huffs and curls in on himself, turning his face into the pillow. “Nooooo.”

Mike sighs and rubs his large hand slowly up and down Will’s back. It makes him shudder.

“You leave me no choice then.”

Will feels Mike’s fingers start to scatter over his sides, digging into his ribs.

Will lets out a shrill gasp and squirms away, up against the wall his bed is pressed up against. But Mike follows him, not letting up.

Will squeals and kicks at him but Mike isn’t fazed by it one bit.

“Oh—oh my god. Stop! Stop!” Will cackles out breathlessly.

Mike continues to tickle him, digging his fingers into the spots he knows Will is the most sensitive at.

“Mike, fuck,” he whines out of breath. “O-okay, okay, I’m up!”

He grabs at Mike’s hands and thankfully Mike doesn’t fight him. Will slumps against the wall, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure.

Mike looks down at Will’s hands hanging on tightly to his. He grabs Will’s wrist and holds their hands up against each other.

Mike’s hands are soft and warm and it makes Will want to fucking die.

“Your hands are so tiny,” he whispers.

Will sucks in a shaken breath. His face instantly goes hot, and he’s suddenly thankful for the darkened room.

Mike slowly laces their fingers together, slotting his longer digits between Will’s much shorter ones.

It feels like a perfect fit. Like a hand he could hold for the rest of his life and never get sick of.

It almost makes Will feel sick from the amount of butterflies he has roaming around in the depths of his stomach.

And of course, before he can enjoy it too long, Mike is already pulling away. Will’s hand drops back into his lap, still feeling the tingle from Mike’s delicate touch.

“Come on, I made some dinner. You need to eat.”

Mike stands up from the bed and he waits, watching Will to make sure he’s going to get up and follow.

And just like clockwork, Will follows him out of the room with his eyes dazed and invisible tail wagging behind him.

As usual, Mike guided Will to the couch and told him to relax while he plated their food. Nothing out of the ordinary. Mike always cooked for them, always fixed Will’s plate, and grabbed his favorite drink. Always let Will pick out what they watched on the TV while they ate.

Tonight was no different. They ate and watched Ghostbusters for what was probably the millionth time because it was one of Will’s favorites.

The only difference this time was the lingering anxiety of what had happened the night before. Mike was acting normal, like nothing had happened.

Will couldn’t remember arguing with Mike like that since that spring break in Lenora when they were fifteen.

Mike said last night that they’d finish their conversation when Will was sober. He definitely remembered him saying that.

Maybe that was the thing though. Maybe Mike thought Will was too drunk to remember anything about last night. Maybe he was just deciding to let it go.

Will was completely fine with that. One hundred percent fine.

Except Will wasn’t sure he could let it go. It was all he’d been thinking about during this entire movie, during the entire time he picked at the food Mike had made but couldn’t bring himself to scarf down like he normally would due to his nerves.

The bowl still sat in his lap, cradled in his hands, half warm as he leaned back against the armrest of the couch. His legs were bent up between them on the middle cushion. He was completely zoned out at the TV while his thoughts scrambled, nervously chewing on the nail of his other hand.

He was so out of it he didn’t even feel Mike scoot in closer.

Not until his ankles were grabbed and his feet were lifted up.

Will jumped slightly at the contact, and Mike shifted in closer until his thighs brushed up against the back of Will’s. Then he set Will’s feet down, repositioning him so he was the same way, knees still drawn up, just with Mike’s lap under them now.

Okay. That’s new.

Will watched him with wide eyes and a mix of curiosity and nerves following close behind. Mike took the bowl from his hands and forked some of the pasta onto it.

Then slowly, he raised the fork in front of Will’s lips. Will looked down at it cross-eyed.

“What are you—”

As soon as his mouth opened to speak, Mike pushed the food in, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Will’s brows lifted in shock as he held the bite in his mouth, completely stunned by the action.

Mike finally made eye contact with him and raised a single brow.

“Chew.”

Will chewed slowly, almost mechanically. He never broke Mikes gaze. When he finally swallowed, there was already another bite waiting for him.

Will glances down at it and then back at Mike.

Mike leans in more slightly with the fork, wiggling the bite it in front of Will’s mouth.

“C’mon, Will. Open up.”

Will starts to grin, and then a nervous giggle bubbles out. Something he apparently does sober now too.

He pushes Mike’s hand away and places the tips of his fingers on his lips, still giggling.

“Mike I can feed myself.”

“Yeah but you weren’t eating, and you haven’t ate all day. Just let me take care of you.”

Let me take care of you.

There’s that sentence again. Will starts to wonder what has made Mike suddenly so attentive lately. Sure, their dynamic changed after they saved the world and Mike latched onto Will after everything. More overprotective, always up his ass. Will loved every minute of it.

Part of him thought Mike knew he did, too.

Like maybe Mike may have connected the dots on who Will had a crush on when he came out all those years ago.

He’d never be brave enough to ask, though.

Either way, this type of behavior is new. The controlling thing isn’t necessarily forgrien territory, though it has gotten worse. Last night proved that.

But Mikes never picked out his clothes or dressed him before. Then there’s the lingering looks, the touches, and he’s sure as hell never fed him until now.

Will wonders what would happen if he just fell into it, if he just let it happen. How far would Mike truly go just to take care of him?

He bites down on his lip at the thought.

Then he opens his mouth and takes the bite of food. He chews more naturally this time and smiles at Mike.

Mike freezes for a moment, his eyes stuck on Will’s mouth. Then he lifts his thumb and wipes the corner of Will’s mouth.

“So messy,” he whispers, almost like he’s in awe.

Then he sucks the sauce off his own thumb, and now Will is the one staring, lips parted.

Mike stares back just as hard though, his eyes glued to Will’s lips.

They stay like that for a moment, until Will feels like he might implode. So he decides to test out his earlier thoughts.

“More please?” he asks as sweetly as possible.

He watches Mike’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Mike’s eyes finally lift to meet his, then he clears his throat, clearly caught of guard by Will asking to be fed instead of being told.

“Fuck—” he clears his throat again. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He forks more pasta and holds it up for him. Will takes it graciously.

“You’re so good to me, Mike. Thanks for everything, really,” he says after he swallows.

And if the angels in heaven have never sung for Will before, they definitely have now.

He has to do a double take when he sees the red flush travel from Mike’s neck up to the tips of his ears as he looks away from Will, now focusing on the TV.

Oh my god.

Does Mike like being praised? Does he like taking care of Will and being told he’s doing a good job at it?

Will has to bite down on his lip to keep the sound of pure, electric glee from slipping out of his mouth. If he were alone in his room, he’d be flailing across his bed like a goddamn fish out of water, just from the force of this sudden, perfect realization clicking into place.

But why him? Why Will? It doesn’t necessarily mean Mike is gay or that he even wants Will that way.

But he did blush.

And he has stared at Will’s mouth more times than he can count in the last twenty-four hours.

No. No way. Will is not going to find that out for himself. If Mike did want him that way, he’d have to make that move. Will refuses to be the poor little gay boy that makes a fool of himself.

So instead, he’ll revel in this and enjoy whatever reason Mike is suddenly more overbearing and attentive to him.

And he’ll definitely be milking it too.

Mike sets the bowl on the coffee table once Will finishes eating and leans back. Will’s legs are still draped over his lap, comfortably so.

Mike takes his hand and starts to absentmindedly rub it up and down Will’s thigh, going as low as to nudge Will’s hipbone with the side of his palm, his long fingers brushing way too close to dangerous territory.

Will tries his best to ignore the touch and refocuses on the movie.

A few more minutes pass, and Mike clears his throat and scratches the back of his head. “I think we should, uh… talk about last night.”

Looks like they’re addressing the elephant in the room after all.

“Oh. I don’t really remember much. What happened?” he lies, keeping his gaze on the TV screen, hoping Mike just drops it.

The hand on his thigh tightens, gripping him firmly, and Will tenses. He looks over at Mike now, and his face is hard.

“Don’t lie to me. You know I don’t like that shit,” he clips, his voice dropping an octave.

Will’s face starts to burn at the authoritative tone.

God, is he really this hopelessly pathetic and horny that Mike just saying that, in that way, turns him on?

He seriously needs to get laid so he can be around his best friend in peace.

Will groans and lets his head fall back against the cushion. He covers his face with his hands.

“Please spare me, Mike. I beg. I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Will finally pulls his hands away to see Mike staring at him in confusion.

“You’re the one that’s embarrassed?”

Will returns the puzzled look. “I mean, yeah? You caught me trying to sneak a guy in. Kind of embarrassing. And the things I said are equally as mortifying.”

Mike still doesn’t say anything, so Will keeps going, words spilling a little faster now just to fill the silence.

“I mean, we’ve never really talked about… boundaries, I guess. With hookups. Or bringing people over,” he says, gesturing vaguely between them. “We probably should’ve had that conversation first, so that’s on me.”

Mike shrugs, but it’s a little stiff, a little forced.

“It’s just— it’s been a while, okay? And I was drunk and acting like a horny teenager, so… yeah. Bad decisions all around.”

He lets out a short, awkward laugh and rubs the back of his neck, glancing away for a second before looking back at Mike.

“I wasn’t really thinking about anything except not thinking about anything, if that makes sense.”

Will shifts slightly, suddenly more aware of the hand still resting on his thigh, the weight of Mike’s attention still fixed on him.

Mike exhales quietly through his nose, his grip on Will’s thigh loosening just slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Will blinks at him.

The words are right, but something about them doesn’t land the way they should. Mike doesn’t look away. Doesn’t shrink back. If anything, he looks just as steady as before.

Will tilts his head a little. “You don’t look very sorry.”

Mike’s jaw shifts at that, something tightening there before he smooths it out again.

“I am,” he says, but it comes out more measured than apologetic. “I just—”

He pauses, like he’s choosing how to say it.

“I noticed how gone you were,” he continues, quieter now. “And he wasn’t.”

Will’s brows knit slightly.

Mike’s hand moves again, not gripping this time, just resting there, thumb brushing once like it’s automatic.

“You could barely stand straight, Will,” he says. “And that guy was completely fine. I wasn’t about to let some jackass take advantage of you like that.”

He hadn’t really… thought about it like that.

Mike watches his face carefully, like he can see the moment it clicks.

“I know I come off… controlling sometimes,” he adds, a little softer now. “I know that.”

As he says it, his hand shifts higher on Will’s thigh, not gripping, just resting there more fully, his thumb dragging slow, absent circles like he’s trying to soothe something that isn’t fully spoken.

A moment passes, but he doesn’t pull away.

“But I just—” he exhales again, quieter this time, like the words matter more than he wants them to.

His other hand comes up without thinking, brushing lightly at Will’s sleeve, fingers catching for a second like he’s grounding himself there.

“I care about you. A lot.”

Will’s stomach tightens.

“And you’ve been through enough,” he continues. “More than anyone should have to deal with.”

His thumb brushes against Will’s thigh again, slower this time.

“You’re… special, Will.”

Mike swallows, then shakes his head slightly like he’s brushing it off.

“I just want to take care of you,” he finishes, quieter now.

And there it is once more. How many times has he heard that sentence leave Mike’s lips in a weeks time?

You just gonna stand there and act like you don’t like it?

It goes quiet for a while, and Will lets it.

Long enough that it starts to feel like an unspoken agreement, like they’ve both decided not to touch the rest of it.

Like maybe saying it out loud might change something neither of them is ready to deal with just yet.