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Mike’s on dish duty again.
Which is fantastic, actually, because it means he gets to spend roughly double the time one would ever take scrubbing a few plates – standing at the sink, hands submerged in hot, soapy water.
Staring at Will.
His face is backlit by the glow of the faint fire still burning in the hearth, his brows furrowed in concentration as he precisely adjusts every strand of lights and ornament on the tree. He’s wearing the green sweater Mike secretly loves, and his sweatpants are bunched at the ankles right above the fuzzy Christmas socks he’d snatched off the shelf the last time they’d gone Christmas shopping.
Mike’s cheeks are flushed crimson. He always does this to himself.
He could turn around and finish the dishes – he really could. He probably should have finished a long time ago. For some reason though, Mike can’t seem to tear his focus away from Will. His back is turned now as he reaches higher up the tree to carefully place another red ornament, still humming along to one of the tracks on the mixtape Mike had given him earlier and named an early Christmas gift.
Will walks to the other side of the tree now, more ornaments cradled in his arms and stuffed in his hands. His eyes catch Mike’s.
Mike – who is still breaking his neck staring intently at his best friend.
The corners of Will’s mouth curl upwards, his cheeks lifting and eyes crinkling warmly at the edges, and suddenly the urge to march over and kiss the smile right off of his mouth is almost unbearable.
The boombox in the corner hums a little before clicking, the cassette whirring to life as it flips and the first beats of another song echo through the apartment.
Mike and Will had moved in together last year, after the two gap years they’d both taken to save up and get out of Hawkins together. They bounced between jobs – getting fired, quitting, never quite managing to stay anywhere long enough to gain any type of seniority or anything. But somehow, the two of them still scraped up every spare dollar for rent and tuition, and it led them to the small, run down apartment in New York City Mike loves with his whole heart.
It’s only been a couple of months, but the apartment is nothing less than Mike and Will. Like home. Every inch of the walls are covered in posters and Will's art pieces. They’ve developed routines now, trading chore days, grocery shopping together, late nights on the couch – Mike couldn’t be more ecstatic. This is everything he’s ever wanted, in fact. A life with Will outside of their prejudiced little town.
Mike becomes vaguely aware that the texture of his fingers isn’t particularly pleasant anymore. His hands have been dunked in hot, soapy sink water for God knows how long now, and his fingertips are beginning to wrinkle and soften in a way that usually makes him want to physically rip his skin off.
He’s just so entranced right now that he can’t quite find it in him to give a damn.
Will glances over again, one eyebrow lifting as his eyes meet Mike’s. He smiles, smug and amused. “Mike,” he says gently, finally cutting through Mike’s racing thoughts. “Don’t let the water run.”
Mike realizes he’s been holding his breath. “Sorry,” he squeaks, turning toward the sink quickly and switching off the faucet. He clears his throat loudly.
Will rises onto his toes, arms stretching up to place another ornament. Mike’s gaze drops instinctively, catching the way the hem of Will’s sweater rides up, exposing a thin strip of skin there – his own fingers twitch uselessly at his sides with aching want.
“I can finish doing those if you’re tired,” Will offers, no longer looking at Mike.
“No! It’s fine,” Mike blurts. “I’m– the decorations look great. And I’m not tired.”
Will laughs, soft and bright. Mike’s body aches.
He wants to be close to him. He wants to say something, do something, because at this point the desperation pooling in his chest is starting to feel embarrassing. He wants Will, and he wants Will to know he wants him. Still, his feet stay planted on the cold kitchen tile, feeling too wrong under his body. Move. Go to him.
“You were staring,” Will says. Mike can’t see his face, but the pitch of his voice tells him Will is definitely grinning.
Mike hums. The last notes of the song fade, and Mike’s eyes flicker toward the boombox in anticipation. The cassette clicks, rewinds briefly, and then the first chords of another track start to fill the apartment.
Mike recognizes the tune immediately – Surrender, the familiar rhythm settling over the room. It’s a little romantic, actually, Mike realizes in the domestic proximity. It wraps around him and Will like a blanket. Something about the song makes the tension in Mike’s chest unbearable to deal with.
Fuck.
Mike swallows hard and takes a tiny, hesitant little step in Will’s direction.
Will looks at him again, and now he’s tilting his head all cute and curious and oh Jesus, the way Mike would lunge right at him and kiss him if he was brave enough. There’s a teasing look in Will’s eye Mike would recognize anywhere.
Mike swallows again. He says nothing at first, letting the song play as he contemplates his next decisions. His legs carry him forward anyway, sort of absently, taking him toward Will, and oh my god what is he doing, actually?
He’s standing directly in front of Will now. The bass kicks in, slow and steady, and now Mike’s reaching out toward Will. He is not doing this. He is not. But he’s watching his own hand reach.
“What are you doing?” Will asks, turning his whole body toward him.
When you take me
Or when you may…
Will’s eyes flick down to Mike’s hand, held out palm facing up, questioning. Then he looks back up, his lips twitching into another teasing smile.
Mike’s speaking before he even hears himself. “Dance with me,” he whispers.
Will’s breath hitches.
For a terrifying second, Mike thinks Will might actually think he’s too much of a freak for him and turn away. Tell him he’s gone way too far this time.
All is well though, because right before Mike drops his hand and gives up, Will’s palm meets Mike’s, and he’s pulling Will into the middle of the living room. They’re both hesitant for a moment, their hands sort of lingering there and unknowing what to do. They stare at each other, and the heat in Mike’s face is definitely starting to bloom in color as well, and Will is definitely noticing because he’s giggling quietly at the site of Mike’s flustered, helpless expression.
Mike lifts their joined hands and guides Will’s to his shoulders. He shivers at the new touch, this new proximity beyond anything he’s used to, the way Mike’s hands instinctively come up to hold Will’s waist.
Will exhales. Mike swipes his thumb once, twice across the divot in Will’s waist, testing. Will’s hands feel heavy where they rest on his shoulders, the way they burn into his skin even through the fabric of his winter sweater, like he could guide or push and pull Mike anywhere he wanted and Mike would fall right into him.
Will laughs quietly, shoulders bobbing as their hands settle onto each other, and then – they start swaying.
Like, slow dancing. Like – like couples do.
Mike is going to bask in this for as long as he possibly can.
They sway ever so gently, and Mike takes a deep breath as he meets Will’s fond gaze. He’s smiling a little, a crinkle in the corner of his eyes and a pink flush over his cheeks and nose. Mike wants to fucking kiss him so badly it feels like a physical throb.
I surrender
I surrender
To you
“Relax,” Will’s murmurs. His fingers press into Mike’s shoulders for a moment, rubbing small circles there. “You’re all tense. It’s just me.”
Mike swallows hard. Will’s eyes are impossibly green in this light. “Thinking about my form,” Mike responds weakly, his mouth twitching. “I take pride in my slow dancing.”
“Oh, do you?” Will tilts his head, eyes bright and teasing. “Since when?”
“Recently,” Mike shrugs, trying and failing to hide his grin as his hands slide a little more confidently to Will’s hips. “I’ve been… studying.”
Will giggles. The sound is soft and breathy in the space between their mouths, and Will’s front teeth are poking out just a little, and oh, Mike could just–
“Studying what exactly?”
“Well,” Mike hums and sways them a little more. The adrenaline is buzzing under his skin, “you.”
Will giggles, huffy. “That’s not a real answer.”
“Sounded better in my head.”
Will smiles again, ducking his chin. “I like it out loud.”
Mike swallows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Will murmurs. “You’re cute when you’re all nervous.”
Oh, fuck.
Mike is absolutely positively doomed.
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” Will asks, leaning in and dropping his voice to a whisper. “You brought us here.”
They’re impossibly close. So close that if Mike rocked forward just a little, just a few inches, his lips would be on–
His grip tightens on Will’s hips. Will sways forward just enough to press his body into Mike’s, gazing up at him while they sway to the gentle tune humming from the boombox.
“Look at you,” Will continues after Mike doesn’t respond. “You’re smiling like an idiot.”
Mike’s grin grows wide and goofy. “You started it.”
Will smirks. “I don’t remember asking you to dance."
They both break into quiet laughter at that, shoulders bouncing quietly, foreheads almost touching now. Their bodies moving together just slightly off beat with giggles.
They’re still dancing when their laughter dies down. The silence stretches between them, their eyes not leaving one another aside from the occasional scan of the face for signs of discomfort. He looks and he looks. It never comes.
Mike becomes acutely aware of where his hands are situated, where Will’s hands are resting gently on his shoulders still. How his thumbs are resting right over his hip bones, lightly pulling his body into Mike’s. He wonders if Will notices the fact.
Will’s smile lingers as he blinks slowly up at Mike. The song swells around them, and the ambiance from the newly added Christmas decor, perfectly and neatly placed by Will bathing them in a comforting warm light Mike wishes he could bask in for the rest of his life. Just in this moment.
The space between them feels heavier suddenly.
Mike realizes how close their faces are. He can feel the warmth of Will’s breath ghosting his lips. The light from the tree catches in Will’s lashes, on the mole near his mouth, one Mike has memorized and dreamt of pressing his lips to forever. He swallows, his throat tighter than usual.
“Will,” he murmurs, not even sure what he’d say next if Will does answer.
Will doesn’t answer with words. What he does do, though, is slide one of his hands slowly, deliberately, down Mike’s arm while keeping his other anchored at his shoulder – all the way down, until their fingers brush.
He stills when their fingers brush. He looks as if he might pull back, his breath hitching, glancing up at Mike through his lashes like he’s searching him for permission. Then, he laces their fingers together.
Mike has to fight the gasp that claws through his throat. His heart slams hard against his ribs so loud he’s sure Will can feel it from where he’s standing chest to chest with him, and if Will weren’t holding onto him, perhaps he’d simply collapse. His legs are all numb and tingly and his mind is buzzing with want, with Will.
My heart is in prison
The whole
Come close to me
(I surrender)
They sway like that for a little bit now, their hands intertwined and hovering beside them, Mike’s free hand still holding Will’s waist and Will’s still steady on Mike’s shoulder. Their foreheads almost touch, Mike’s eyes flick to Will’s mouth, and he’s failing to hide it.
Will notices, because of course he does.
“You’re doing it,” Will whispers.
Mike breathes, the sound barely coming out. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me,” Will replies. And now his eyes are dropping somewhere below Mike’s nose. “Like you’re gonna do something.”
Mike’s chest rises and falls in uneven, pathetic breaths. He wonders briefly if Will can hear his own pulse like Mike can hear his own. He shakes his head, forcing himself to speak. “Am not.”
“Uh-huh. Then why do your eyes keep landing on my mouth?”
Mike’s breath catches again, subtle. He swallows as the heat makes its way up his cheeks and into his temples. He opens his mouth to respond, hesitating for just a second, and then–
“Would you… tell me to stop?” Mike almost jumps at his own words. In his own voice, rough and small, no longer joking.
Will’s lips part. His eyes are wide and stunned, searching, staring at Mike with an expression Mike’s never seen before. Mike holds his breath, waiting for a reaction, every nerve ending in his body alight.
Will shakes his head.
Slowly, slowly... Mike leans in.
There isn’t much space left to close, fortunately, so all Mike has to do is lean forward one more inch–
Will makes a small, breathy sound, and he’s fully, openly staring at Mike’s lips now. He leans in ever so slightly. He tilts his head, his eyes not leaving Mike’s lips, and Mike tilts his head the other way, and holy shit he’s so impossibly close.
This is it, he thinks. He’s going to kiss his best friend.
“Mike…” Will breathes into the space left, almost pleading.
Mike closes his eyes and then swallows whatever else Will has to say when he presses his lips flush against his, finally breaking the dam. Mike barely registers the broken and breathy sound Will makes before Will’s kissing him back. It’s gentle and sweet, and Will’s lips are soft and this simple press of lips is everything Mike’s ever wanted.
Mike pulls back a little and searches Will’s face instantly. He barely has time to look, though, because Will’s hands are coming up to grab his jaw on both sides and he’s yanking him forward, crashing their lips together with more force than before this time. Will’s hands are incredibly warm and grounding and solid, and the way he holds his face like he’s precious treasure is enough to make Mike combust in his arms completely right now. Will’s thumbs brush his cheeks as they kiss, Mike’s fingers are digging into Will’s hips and sliding up his sides without thinking, pulling him flush into his body closer, closer like an anchor and it’s just never close enough.
They melt into each other. They’ve always secretly known this is where they’re supposed to end up.
The kiss deepens, quickening a bit as the two of them become more and more confident and certain.
Mike feels it everywhere: his chest, in the way his knees are weak like jello, the way his stomach flips the more Will’s hands roam over his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. The way his whole world narrows down to this one person and the way he tastes like the hot chocolate they shared an hour ago and something familiar and safe, like home.
Will exhales into the kiss, and Mike smiles into it. It’s a soft, shaky sound – relief almost. Mike feels it vibrate through his whole body. His heart stutters, and he’s pulling back now just barely, their lips still brushing and foreheads still touching.
“Oh,” Mike breathes, stunned out of his mind.
“Oh,” Will mocks. He laughs quietly. Mike watches in awe, a smile tugging at his kiss bitten lips. He leans forward and bumps his nose into Will’s.
I surrender
I surrender
To you
Mike leans in again, slower this time, giving Will every chance to pull away.
Will doesn’t pull away.
Their lips meet again, slower and lingering this time. Mike moves his hands from Will’s hips to his back, wrapping around him and pulling him close while they kiss. Will hums contently at this.
They pull apart only when the song starts to fade to a low hiss, the cassette clicking softly as it reaches the end. The silence feels loud in comparison, but neither of them rushes to fill it right away. Will rests his forehead against Mike’s and closes his eyes, breathing him in. “So,” he says.
Mike smiles, wide and dazed, thumbs still warm at Will’s lower back. “So.”
They don’t say anything else. Not that they need to, anyway. Mike just tucks Will closer, and Will drops his head into the crook of Mike’s neck, soft and warm. Will wraps his arms around Mike’s shoulders and nuzzles close to him, pulling him in tighter. They sway like this for a long while, letting the quiet stretch between them comfortably even as the next song starts to fade in, covering the short lived silence.
Mike closes his eyes and lets the rhythm of Will’s breathing sync with his own. He smiles, letting the certainty fill his heart: he knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.