Chapter Text
More often than not, Will finds himself in situations that made him wonder if he did something heinous in a past life to upset some all-knowing deity in the universe. Many times it feels like he may be the butt of some grand cosmic joke, constantly thrown into the deep end of as many baffling and treacherous situations as possible.
The situation he finds himself in now, however, is one entirely of his own making and one he can only blame on himself. Well, maybe he can blame Lucas and Max as well. And Mike. Oh, he can definitely blame Mike— because whenever Will finds himself in such an emotionally hazardous circumstance, Mike Wheeler is always at the scene of the crime.
It begins innocently enough, on a scorching day in July. It’s the height of summer and they are sprawled by Lover’s Lake— the irony of its name in this case does not escape Will.
It’s the type of heat that bears down on them like a punishment, making the air waver like a mirage as the group splays out on the ground in varying states of heat-induced misery. Dustin fans himself with a comic book, El napping next to him, while Mike presses a sweating can of soda to his forehead in a futile attempt to cool down. Will doesn’t have it in him to do anything more than lie flat on his back, trying not to melt into the ground.
Then there are Max and Lucas. While it is so hot that Will feels like he might suffocate if anyone comes within a five metre radius of him, the two of them seem to be having no such issues. Max is draped over Lucas’s lap like a cat in a sunbeam, and Lucas has an arm wrapped around her waist as though he’s afraid the heat might cause her to evaporate and float away.
Max and Lucas’s relationship has always been one that fascinated Will. He had borne witness as the tumultuous beginning of their middle school relationship, involving a constant push-and-pull and breakups every week, shifted into the fierce, profound bond they hold now. They had chosen each other, again and again, through misunderstandings and hurt and almost certain death.
There was a strength to them now, something forged under the pressure of the horrors they had faced— horrors that would have broken most people. Though he hates to admit it, given how much they faced to get to where they are, Will is a little envious of what they have. The way they choose each other with a certainty Will isn’t sure he will ever have.
Will enjoys watching them as they gravitate towards each other in a crowd or when they subtly link their pinkies as a show for intimacy when they think the others aren’t watching. That said, they can be unbearably obnoxious about it too.
Since the start of their summer break, it seems that Lucas and Max had entered into some form of delayed honeymoon phase, a belated realisation that they could finally be a normal, annoying, couple. So, the nauseating displays of affection had multiplied like a contagious disease, and Will’s admiration had begun to curdle into exasperation.
This is a sentiment he knows he shares with Mike and Dustin. El didn’t seem to care either way, good on her. Mike, especially, seemed to harbour a vehement disgust towards the concept of them as a couple. Even as Dustin and Will had, begrudgingly, resigned to the fact that they would have to deal with this for the rest of the summer, Mike seemed to take personal offense at every act of affection Lucas and Max dared to show in front of him. Which, as it turns out, is a lot.
Take right now, for example: Max stretches out, limbs unfurling like the petals of a flower. Immediately, a bee to sweet pollen, Lucas is shifting towards her, brushing hair from her forehead and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good morning, sunshine.”
Will expects that, if she were more awake, Max would have slapped Lucas on the arm for something so cheesy. Instead, she smiles sleepily at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek and brings his face down to hers, a slow, languid kiss that lasts way too long. When they pull back, they both speak at the same time, “I love you.”
“Holy shit,” Dustin wrinkles his nose at them, “They’re becoming one person.”
From next to him, he hears Mike snort, the disgust evident in his voice. “Can you two keep your hands off each other for like… two seconds?”
“You and El were literally the same a few years ago,” Will can’t help but pipe in, turning his face just in time to see Lucas press another kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth.
He’s not bitter about El and Mike’s relationship during their middle school years— well, maybe a little— but he’s had a lot of time to come to terms with the unfortunate situations of his life. It’s meant as a lighthearted quip, but Mike immediately turns his offended glare to Will.
“We were also thirteen,” he counters, “Whose side are you on?”
Will closes his eyes again, sighing in defeat, “Maybe if we ignore them, it’ll go away.”
Mike doesn’t reply, and Will assumes that he’s also given up on the couple. He hears them murmuring softly to one another, even thinks he hears the word lovebug at some point. Then, there’s a small scuffle and he feels a shadow fall over him. He startles when he opens his eyes to find Mike looming over him. “I have a better idea.”
“Jesus, Mike.”
The sun illuminates the outline of his body, the light momentarily giving Will’s heat-fogged mind the sensation that he is in the presence of an angel. The roguish grin on Mike’s face says that he is anything but, and Will immediately senses trouble. It’s no surprise, then, when he opens his mouth and speaks loudly enough that his voice reverberates through Will’s bones, “Hey babe, can you pass me a drink?”
Will immediately feels a blush creep into his cheeks, and he’s glad that his skin is already flushed from the heat. “You’re literally standing,” he mumbles, “Get it yourself.”
“Come on, honeybun. Can’t you be a sweetheart and get it for me?”
From next to them, Dustin gags, “Eugh. It’s honestly worse when you do it, Mike.”
Will rolls his eyes, and finally locks eyes with Mike, who raises his eyebrows in challenge. He averts his eyes, looking instead at Dustin, who now has the comic book resting on his face like it can block out the world around them. He thinks for a second, then smiles when the distant memory of a pet name comes to his mind, “Come on Dusty-buns, don’t be like that. Don’t you love us?”
Dustin immediately throws the comic off his face and sits up, startling El awake next to him, “Don’t start with me Willy-poo—” he starts, then cuts himself off, making a disgusted face at his own words, “Nope, nevermind. I’m not going to enable this behaviour.”
“Gag me with a spoon,” El pipes up, her delighted tone at odds with the phrase she had clearly learned from Max. She lets out a bright laugh as she rubs the sleep away from her eyes, “Willy-poo is the worst name I have ever heard.”
Dustin rolls his eyes and nudges her good-heartedly with his shoulder, “My point is, it’s enough that we have to hear it from Max and Lucas. I am not getting dragged into whatever this—” he gestures between Will and Mike, “—is.”
Well, there goes Will’s attempt at redirecting Mike’s attention. Unfortunately, the boy is still watching him expectantly, so Will turns to rummage through the cooler for a soda. He fumbles for a second, trying to construct the most insufferable string of words he can think of. Finally, he pulls his hand out and extends the can to Mike with what he hopes is a sweet — rather than pained— smile, “Anything for you, uh… snookums.”
When he manages to spit the words out, his voice is high-pitched and a little louder than he had planned. He can almost see the words tremble in the air between them. Lucas, finally drawn from Max’s orbit, laughs loudly, drawing a fond smile from his girlfriend, “Snookums, really? You sound like someone is holding a gun to your head, Will.”
Mike looks positively ecstatic as he takes the drink from Will’s hand, their fingers brushing briefly, “Thanks babycakes, you’re too good to me.”
Will expects him to return to his seat by Dustin and El, but instead he throws himself down right next to him. Will immediately groans at the heat he brings with him and tries to shift away, only for Mike to follow behind like a magnet and place a hand on his arm to keep him in place, “So, do you want to hear my idea?”
“Does your idea need for you to be plastered to my side?” Will asks, feeling Mike’s touch burn into his skin. He’s entirely too warm, and Will genuinely thinks he might liquify and sink into the ground. Mike decides not to acknowledge his question, and leans closer conspiratorially,
“We should make fun of them.”
This close, Will can see the freckles spattered across his nose like constellations, pinpricks of gold against his skin. Faintly, he wishes he could take the time to chart them with his fingertips.
“Aren’t we already making fun of them?”
Mike huffs out a laugh, and Will feels it resonate against where his heat is pressed against Will’s side, “Not exactly. That was just a test, but we’ll need to really strategise, make it so that they are forced to stop.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” Will can’t help but play along, feeling a thrill at the determination he can see in Mike’s eyes. He’s always appreciated Mike like this, leading, taking charge.
“We beat them at their own game. Use pet-names, be gross and cheesy and way too affectionate, fully commit. We outdo them.”
There’s a beat of quiet as Will tries to process the words— because, essentially, what Mike is asking him to do…
“So, what you’re saying…” Will props himself onto his elbow, giving himself some leverage and distance from Mike’s insistent gaze, “...is that we… outdo the couple… at doing couple things?”
“Yeah,” Mike doesn’t blink, “It’s not like we’re actually a couple. We’re just retaliating. They’ll realise how disgusting they’re being and they’ll tap out.”
Across from them, Max sits up and leans toward Lucas, her voice syrupy and sweet, “Do you want to get out of here?”
Lucas grins, letting his nose brush against hers as he murmurs, “Depends, baby, what do you have planned for me?”
Whatever Max is about to respond is drowned out when Dustin interjects, “Just great, you two. This was meant to be the summer we spent together before leaving for college.”
“It’s kind of sweet,” El says gently, and Dustin shoots her a disgruntled look.
Will knows Max and Lucas, and he knows Mike. He knows that they are so competitive that this can only end up escalating beyond his best interests. And yet…
Mike— his best friend— is still watching him hopefully, his face open and reassuring. He squeezes his fingers where they’re still wrapped around Will’s forearm, “Come on Will, it’ll work. Trust me.”
Will is a stupid, lovesick, fool. A fool who can never really say no to Mike Wheeler. Even when he knows that this— whatever this is— is going to cost him.
He nods anyway.
Mike beams, so radiant that Will thinks he might be soaring into the face of the sun, his wax-feather wings splayed wide.
Mike had started it. Definitely. Will, however, had gone along with it— and that was his first mistake. The first mistake in a long line of them.
After coercing Will into agreement, Mike had abruptly stood up and announced that they all jump into the lake to cool off. The suggestion had finally convinced Max and Lucas to peel away from each other and rejoin the group, after which the opportunities for Mike and Will to implement their plan had been few and far between. Their day had been swept away in a blur of shrieks and splashes as the sun sank toward the horizon.
This didn’t mean that Will’s mind didn’t keep wandering back to Mike’s suggestion, the lake water cooling his heated skin where Mike’s fingers had touched. Every time he would see Lucas reach towards Max in the water, he became hyperaware of Mike’s presence next to him. The plan hung in the air between them, untested.
It was a stupid idea, destined to backfire on him, and yet Will couldn’t help the anticipation that buzzed through his veins. The thrum of adrenaline followed him home, even after they said their goodbyes.
It still lingers the next day, when he finds himself squeezed between Mike and Dustin in a cramped booth at some greasy spoon they had discovered during their last months of school. Bell’s Diner is humming with the charged energy reserved for the afternoon lunch rush hour, the smell of grease and syrup wrapping around them like an artery-clogging blanket. After a morning spent swimming, though, Will is so hungry that he would eat any questionably produced diner special placed in front of him.
Under the table, Mike’s thigh is pressed against his, skin damp and sticky from the residual sunscreen and lake-water. While he knows it’s to accommodate space for them all, Will can’t help that all his senses hone into that point of contact. He briefly considers gnawing on the gummy laminated menu in his hands just to give himself something else to think about.
Instead, he tries to focus on something less hazardous, and lands on watching Max teach El how to fold a flimsy napkin into an airplane. He counts the folds, watching the creases immediately come apart and the paper eventually rip under El’s ministrations. It still doesn’t drown out the warmth seeping into his skin where Mike’s leg meets his.
Thankfully, the saviour comes in the form of their plates arriving, piled high with a variety of grease-soaked disasters that make his stomach rumble loudly. For a few blissful moments, they are all preoccupied by the crackle of wax paper and glasses clinking against granite. Next to him, Mike mumbles something about the food being transcendent and Will has to agree.
“Dustin, you said you could get us the drinks, right? For tomorrow?” El is saying around a mouthful of burger, fries, and strawberry milkshake. It’s a wonder she is able to keep it all in her mouth.
“Yeah, I can ask Steve. He can probably get us some ciders,” Dustin, on the other hand, sprays crumbs all over the table as he speaks. Lucas mutters a soft dude and wipes at it with a napkin.
“What about White Lightning?” Max asks, wiggling her eyebrows,
“Moonshine? Are you crazy? Will, pass the ketchup,” Dustin grimaces in her direction as Will slides the bottle over. He squirts an excessive amount onto his plate, making it look like a bloodbath,
“Mad Dog?” El supplies hopefully, “I like the colours.”
“Yeah, well I don’t like the taste,” Dustin argues. However, El just continues to stare at him, and Will watches him grow increasingly more uncomfortable until he finally gives in, “Fine, I can try to convince him to get us Mad Dog. Also, it’s still at your place, right?”
“Yeah, my mom and Hopper are out of town for a few days,” Will answers for her, his voice muffled around a too-large bite, and then nods when he realises that what he just said was probably incomprehensible.
The peace lasts approximately seven minutes.
As they hash out their evening plans, Lucas reaches for his milkshake. Foregoing the straw, he brings the glass to his mouth, and when he puts it down, a smudge of cream clings to the tip of his nose. Max laughs, her eyes immediately drawn to his face like a moth to a flame. “Aw, baby, you have something on your face.”
“Here they go again,” Will hears Mike grumble under his breath. Max swipes at the cream with her finger and then sticks her finger into her own mouth.
As he watches the exchange, Will suddenly feels like the rest of them should not be witnessing this. Lucas is staring at Max a little too intensely, at the way she suckles the pad of her finger before bringing it down, not breaking eye contact. A blush is spreading into Lucas’s cheeks, and Max raises her eyebrow,
“What are you thinking about, stalker?”
Lucas lowers his eyes to her lips, “Just about what else your mouth can do.”
“Woah,” Dustin knocks on the table, drawing their attention, “Hello? We’re all right here.”
“Relax,” Max rolls her eyes, even as Will notices a twin flush creeping up her neck, “It’s not like we’re going to fuck on the table.”
“At least, not this table,” Lucas grins in her direction, and Dustin lobs a fry at him. The couple continue to smile secretively at one another and, next to Max, El dips a fry in her milkshake and offers it to Dustin in conciliation.
The vinyl seat squeaks as Mike shifts next to Will, and he knows what is coming seconds before Mike opens his mouth. “Will, darling, do I have something on my face?”
Will turns his gaze to Mike, raising an eyebrow at the ludicrously large dollop of whipped cream smeared across his cheek. It was too precise to be accidental, an artist’s stroke across Mike’s face. Fine, Will inhales deeply through his nose to settle himself. He had agreed to commit, so commit he would. Time to play his part.
Steeling himself, he tries to mimic Max, reaching up to swipe his thumb across Mike’s cheekbone with an exaggerated coo, “Mike, sweetie-pie, what would you ever do without me?”
El snorts across from them, and Max flicks a bit of whipped cream in their direction. Will lowers his thumb, debating whether to copy Max or to wipe his hand on a tissue. His hand hovers in the air uncertainly, but before he can come to a decision, Mike moves closer and circles his wrist with his fingers.
Will doesn’t have time to react before Mike leans forward and licks the pad of his fingertip. The sensation lasts a brief second, only a kitten-lick, but Will immediately breaks character, snatching his hand back with a startled laugh. “Mike, ew!”
“Sorry doll, you’re just too tempting,” Mike smirks, leaning into Will’s space. Will can’t help but to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, wiping the saliva still on his fingers on Mike’s shirt in a show of disgust.
It’s ridiculous, Will thinks, how easily things seem to come to Mike once he sets his mind to them. How naturally names like “sweetheart” or “angel” seem to roll off his tongue— even when they are directed at Will. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, but it doesn’t stop him from spiralling a little every time. Still, he does his best to follow through and play along, if only to make Mike happy.
“Not in public, pookiebear, you know this,” he pushes at Mike’s shoulder, pretending to be bashful. In reality, it was getting a little hard to breathe and he really did need to put some space between him and Mike.
“You guys are insufferable,” Dustin groans, and Max just shrugs just as Lucas slings an arm around her shoulder pulls her in to press a kiss to her cheek.
Will looks at Mike, whose mouth is slightly downturned, caught between his teeth. He can tell that Mike is displeased that their little display didn’t do much to hinder Max and Lucas. They were going to have to try harder if this plan was going to work. Which means escalating. Except… how far were they meant to go? Exactly how far was he willing to go?
Will pulls his eyes away and his gaze drops, involuntarily, to where Mike is absentmindedly chewing on his lip. Will is still reeling from the feeling of that mouth on his skin, his fingertips tingling at the memory. Yet, he already aches for a chance to feel it again. To confirm that they were as soft as they had felt for that split second, slightly chapped and wet with spit and grease. If he could, he would want to feel those lips against his own, but he does not let himself entertain that idea for long.
For a few seconds, he waits. Then, Will decides to push his luck, just a little. This was Mike’s idea, after all. It’s only fair that he pulls his weight instead of letting Mike do all the heavy lifting. Reaching forward again, he drags his thumb against Mike’s lower lip, pulling it out from between his teeth. He lets his finger rest there for a second, “Stop biting your lip, jellybean, it’s a bad habit.”
Mike’s eyes immediately snap to his, his mouth parting slightly. It’s only a split second of surprise, not even enough for Will to start second-guessing if he had taken it too far. Then, Will feels, more than sees, Mike’s lips curl into a smile. His voice is low when he speaks, almost quiet enough that it could be mistaken as being meant for just the two of them, “And if I bite yours instead?”
Thankfully, Lucas interrupts before Will can go into cardiac arrest, “We have never called each other ‘jellybean’, come on.”
“Yeah,” Max grins devilishly, “If you’re going to copy us, at least get it right.”
Lucas tightens his arm around her shoulder, putting his mouth to her ear to murmur: “Should we show them how it’s done, baby?”
“No!” Dustin interjects, panicked, “You do not need to show us how it’s done.”
“Please keep your dicks in your pants,” El agrees, pointing a soggy fry at Lucas, and then at Mike and Will, “All of you.”
“Jane Hopper!” Will gasps theatrically as Max cackles beside El, shocked at the words coming from her mouth, “Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“She’s been spending too much time around Max and Dustin,” Mike rolls his eyes good-naturedly as their conversation finally shifts into safer territory.
Will can still feel the ghost Mike’s lips against his fingertips, about him suggesting that he could bite Will’s lips. Their thighs remain pressed against each other under the table, and their elbows knock into one another as their chatter blends into the sounds of the diner. Somewhere behind them, a bell chimes as a new patron drifts in.
In the crammed booth, neither of them moves away.