Chapter Text
“Mike, the elevators in buildings like these are always breaking down.” Will had said three months ago.
“That won’t happen.” Mike had said at the time.
Now he wants to punch himself in the face.
In his defence he hadn’t really been listening. That was a whole other problem. The staring. Staring at Will's mouth instead of listening to the words coming out of it. Will has always looked— nice, but now he looks nicer (if that was even possible) and it's driving Mike insane but he plans on fixing that. As soon as he gets out of this stupid elevator.
It's been around 20 minutes now and Mike is just beginning to consider the very real possibility that this is how he dies—wedged between floors with melting ice cream and bags of wine and vegetables—when he hears a loud metallic clang from outside. Mike sighs in relief and picks up the bags, plastic handles digging into his fingers. The door finally opens to reveal an old bald man, the superintendent, Joe.
“Joe, for the first time ever, I am very happy to see you.” Mike says as he steps out into cool fresh air.
Joe squints at him. “Why can’t you take the goddamn stairs Michael?”
“Cause then I wouldn’t get to see your beautiful face.”
Joe glares at him. “Such a brat. You should learn from that sweet boy William.” he calls out.
Mike smiles at this. His heart races as he climbs the stairs, his mind painting the image of Will’s face at the mention. Sweet indeed.
Mike feels like his lungs are going to shrivel up inside his chest by the time he reaches the third floor. The grocery bags thud against the carpet floor as he fumbles the keys in his hand, when the door opens. Light floods into the hallway. Will looks at Mike with his eyebrows scrunched. Mike stares. Then looks away. Remembers that he's trying to be better.
“What took you so long? I was getting worried.” Will says, the concern in his voice cutting Mike deep. He’s never taking the elevator again.
Will moves to grab the bags but Mike beats him to it. He breathes Will in against his own will. Vanilla. He smells like vanilla.
“M’sorry.” he says. “Got stuck in the elevator.”
Will tilts his head in annoyance as they walk inside. “Mike.”
“I know, I know.” Mike kicks off his shoes. “I’ll take the stairs.”
The smell hits him completely when he’s inside. Vanilla, butter. Strawberry? He sets the bags on the counter, watching as Will carefully levels off a measuring cup. This is a new thing. Baking. It’d started one random afternoon when Will came home with a bag of ingredients and said he “just felt like trying something.” Since then, their dingy little apartment has slowly begun to smell like a bakery more often than not.
Mike usually tries to stay out of the kitchen when Will’s baking. because Will has this old apron he ties really tight around his waist, and Mike learned very quickly that that was— a problem— for him. So yeah. He usually stays in the living room until he’s done and comes back only to wash the dishes. But today Will looks exhausted, and Mike can’t bring himself to stay away. He watches Will move around the small space.
“What’re you making?” he asks.
“Vanilla cake with strawberry buttercream.” Will says, eyes trained on a big bowl as he squints. “I forgot how many cups I put in.”
“Two.”
Will’s eyes snap up. “Huh?”
“Two. You put in two cups.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He tosses another cup of flour into the bowl and turns around to open the cupboard. Mike’s eyes betray him as they scan Will’s body. The curve of his shoulders, how the blades flex beneath his shirt when he moves. His tiny waist, accentuated by the string of the apron. His very oppositely sized ass. Mike's eyes linger and his mind wanders and he remembers why this is such an issue. Because all he wants to do right now is bend Will over the counter and—
“Mike?”
Mike raises his eyebrows, the sprint of his imagination interrupted. “Yeah?”
“I can’t reach the jar.”
Mike crosses the kitchen and instead of waiting for Will to move, he presses him from behind, his crotch perfectly aligned with Will’s ass. Will gasps the smallest gasp and Mike revels in it. He has to admit he enjoys toying with him like this. Likes the way he gets all worked up.
Mike grabs the jar from the top shelf and sets in on the counter. His hand brushes the side of Will’s hip as he retreats and he has to bite back a smile looking at the blush all over Will’s face.
Mike sits back down while Will sorts through the grocery bags and when his hands find the packet of cherry lollipops his eyes flick up to meet Mike’s. That was another problem.
The lollipop thing.
It had started harmlessly enough. Mike had just been trying to be nice—picking up different kinds of candy whenever he went grocery shopping, curious to see if anything would stick. M&M’s, Hershey’s Kisses, Skittles—he’s worked his way through half the candy aisle over the past month. Will likes all of them well enough, but the lollipops are different. He sits on the couch, watching TV or sketching and he sucks on them absentmindedly, the wet sticky noises, obscene in their living room, his lips and tongue stained red. And Mike tries to look away. He really does. Tries not to imagine something else in the lollipop’s place. A small knot of guilt twists in his stomach. He really had just meant to be nice, but now every time he grabs a new packet at the store, he knows exactly what he’s thinking about. Knows exactly why he’s buying it. It feels, sometimes, like he’s taking advantage of Will’s sweet tooth, Will’s trust— something so innocent. But Will clearly does like the lollipops. So it’s fine. It's fine.
Mike rubs his face, desperate to clear the air. “You finished your assignment on time?”
“Yeah.”
“What time did you go to sleep?”
Will chews his lip. “I didn’t.”
Mike scans Will’s face. The pits beneath his eyes have gotten even darker. He crosses his arms.
“So that means you’ve been up for— 26 hours now. And you haven’t been sleeping great the past week either.”
Will opens his mouth to protest but Mike cuts him off. “I know you’ve been up, I've heard you in the kitchen.”
Will frowns. He stays quiet for a bit before speaking again.
“I guess it's the stress. Just— too much going on in my head. Can’t sleep.”
Mike can tell, with how jittery he’s been lately, from all the coffee. He leans forward on the counter.
“Listen. I’ll order pizza and then we’ll have some cake. And I bought that wine you like. The uhh—”
“The apple one?” Will asks, eyes darting to the grocery bags.
“Yeah. Yeah, the apple one.” Mike replies. “We’ll have some of that and it’ll help you sleep. How does that sound?”
Will nods, rubbing at his eyes. “That sounds good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Mike orders pizza and cleans up the kitchen while Will showers. He opens the wine, twists the cork free and pauses as the scent hits him—sweet apple, almost syrupy. He makes a face. Not his thing. Too sweet. But Will likes it, and that’s all that matters really.
A few minutes pass before Will comes back out, wearing one of Mike’s tshirts. It hangs loose off his shoulders, his collarbones exposed. He drops onto the couch, tucking one leg underneath himself. Mike hands him a glass.
“Thanks.”
“You wanna watch something?” Mike asks, reaching for the remote. Will nods. They flip through channels for a while and finally land on Ghostbusters.
“Classic.” Will says quietly.
The first glass of wine goes easy. The second one too. Conversation comes and goes in between, the sound of Will's occasional laughter doing more to Mike than the wine. The bottle empties without either of them really noticing.
An hour into the movie, the warmth of alcohol has fully settled into Mike’s limbs. Will has slid down onto the floor at some point, his back on the floor, knees bent. He absently twists the stem of his glass between his fingers. Mike leans his head back, blinking slowly at the ceiling. His words come out slurred. “Should I open the second bottle?”
Will giggles. “Nooo. We’re already drunk.”
“I’m gonna go open the other bottle.” Mike says, ignoring him.
He grabs both their glasses and wobbles to the kitchen on unsteady legs. He fumbles with the cork for longer than necessary, the opener slipping once, then twice. And when it finally pops free, the bottle nearly tips from his grip.
When he returns, Will sits up, crossing his legs. Mike settles down a little too close to him. Their knees touching. Will raises his eyebrows.
“Let’s play game.” Mike says.
Will bursts into laughter, falling over sideways.
“What?” Mike asks, grabbing Will’s arm to pull him upright. He can’t help but notice how soft his skin is.
Between giggles, Will speaks. “You just said Let’s play game.”
Mike frowns. “I said Let’s play a game.”
“No you didn’t.”
Mike grabs a pillow off the couch and throws it at Will with lazy aim.
“Ok, what’s the game?” Will slurs.
Mike runs a hand through his curls. He's not entirely sure where this idea sprouted from. “We ask each other questions and if the other person doesn’t want to answer, they have to take a sip of wine.”
Will’s laughter fades just a bit. His eyes flash. Mike senses his hesitation. “Okay.” he finally says.
Mike places their glasses carefully to the side. Their knees are still touching.
“You go first.” Mike says.
Will thinks for a long moment. Mike thinks he’ll never ask.
“The girl from last week. The one who gave you her number. Are you gonna call her?”
Mike doesn’t hesitate. “Nope.”
“Why not?” Will says.
“That’s two questions. Not allowed, William.”
Will groans.
Mike chews his lip. Thinks. Not because he doesn’t have a question but because he has too many. But he plays it safe for now.
“Why do you keep stealing my shirts?”
Will shrugs. “I like how they fit. You don’t mind, do you?”
Mike shakes his head. Keeps his eyes on Will. “Not at all.” Mike loves seeing Will in his clothes. Would like him better with them off though.
Will plays with the fabric of the rug. “Why won’t you call the girl from last week?”
This again. Mike’s lips curve into a smile. “Why are you so hot and bothered by this?”
“Can you answer the question?”
Mike hums. “I have someone else in mind.” Will’s eyes flash at this. Mike wastes no time.
“Why do you care if I call her or not?”
Will breathes in. Out. In. He takes a sip of the wine.
Mike smiles. Doesn't push it.
Will’s eyes are trained on Mike. Mike’s skin prickles under the sudden attention.
“Who do you have in mind?” he asks in a small voice.
Mike’s gaze drops to Will’s mouth. God, his mouth. He could tell him now. Tell him he’s all he’s been thinking about these past few months. Thinking of what it’d be like to put his mouth all over him. What it’d be like to give and give and let Will take.
But he doesn’t. Takes a long sip instead.
“You've been stressed lately. What would help you relax?” Mike asks, as his eyes drill into Will’s.
Will gulps and turns crimson. He takes a sip of the wine.
And Mike knows. He knows what the answer is. Knows exactly where Will’s mind went—because it’s the same place his has been stuck for months. Something buzzes in his chest. And it isn’t the wine.
“Why have you been staring at me so much lately?” Will asks.
So he’s noticed.
Mike can take a sip of the wine. Very easily. Or he could chalk it up to him being worried about Will. A lie, obviously. But the truth is dancing at the tip of his tongue and this stupid wine is making him unnecessarily bold. And Will’s previous ‘answer’, well, it’s encouraging him further.
“Not my fault you’re nice to look at.” he says, maintaining eye contact. Will goes cherry red, and Mike is extremely pleased with himself.
He wants to ride this high. He leans back and props himself up on his hands. His lips curve into a smile, teasing. He can see the rise and fall of Will’s chest go faster.
“Why do you stare at my hands so much?”
Will’s eyes widen slightly before he sips.
“Interesting.” Mike purrs.
Will wipes his mouth. His words slur past his lips. “Why do you keep buying me lollipops?”
Fuck.
Mike can’t tell him the truth. Can’t tell him he likes how pretty he looks with his lips wrapped around the hard candy. Can’t or shouldn’t? Shouldn’t. But today is not the day Mike Wheeler learns restraint, is it?
“I like watching you suck on them.” he says. Makes me wonder what else you can suck on.
Will’s breath catches. He somehow flushes even deeper as his fingers tug at the rug beneath them. “We should— we’re drunk— we should stop.”
Mike sits up straight. “Last question.”
Will blinks at him.
“Pretty please?” Mike drawls.
Will sighs. “Fine.”
He’s gonna regret that. Mike smiles coyly.
“Was Carlton good in bed?”
Will’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. At the audacity of Mike to mention his ex. He glances at the glass in front of him. But Mike grabs it and sets it aside, out of Will’s reach.
“Mike.” Will warns.
“Answer me.” Mike doesn’t recognize his own voice. But he can’t think. Just wants Will to answer. To stop dodging questions.
Will flushes a deeper shade at the command. He mumbles something, swallowing the words.
Mike moves forward. Entirely too close now. Mike's knees are on top of Will’s now, essentially pinning him to the ground.
“Can’t hear you.” he says.
Will doesn’t look at him. “No. He wasn’t.”
“Why not?”
“That’s two questions Mike you can’t—” Will tries to move back to get away but Mike pulls him back forward by the collar, knuckles pressed against Will’s chest. The touch is warm. Electric.
“Answer the question.” Mike says, sharp. He can tell this tone does something to Will, with all the pretty shades of pink he’s turning each time.
Will gulps. “He just— he didn’t understand what I wanted.” Another gulp. “How I wanted it.”
“And what do you want?” Mike rasps.
“Mike.” Will's voice is barely a whisper now.
“It’s just a question.”
Will doesn’t answer. Just stares at Mike, breath coming fast, caught in Mike's grasp, like prey in a trap. They're close enough that Will's breath hits Mike's mouth everytime he breathes out and teh rest of Mike's composure crumbles.
“I think I know.” he whispers.
Will’s heart thuds under Mike’s hand.
Mike leans in, breath ghosting over Will’s mouth.
“You want it rough, don’t you?
Will tenses at the words. His hands grip at the rug beneath them. He could pull away from Mike’s grasp if he wanted. But he doesn’t.
“Want someone to fuck you senseless. Hm?” Mike hums.
Will shivers, eyes blown wide.
Mike stares at him. Stares at the mole above his lip. “Wanna get fucked until you can’t think straight. Right?. Want someone to turn your brain off.”
Mike grabs his glass with his free hand and chugs what's left in it. The liquid burns through him and bubbles back up in the form of unfiltered courage. He places his mouth at Will’s ear now, lips grazing his earlobe. Then by his neck. Takes everything in him not to take a bite. He can feel Will’s breath hitch.
“I’d fuck you so good if you let me, Will.” Mike says, voice unrecognizable. “Better than your stupid ex-boyfriend ever did.” He presses his lips to Will’s ear. “And based on the distinct absence of noise I used to hear when you two used to have sex, he was clearly— lacking— wasn’t he?”
“Mike.” Will breathes.
“But you wouldn’t have to worry about that with me. What I lack in stature I make up for in– you know.” He passes his tongue over Will’s earlobe. Drinks in his whimper, the sound going straight to his dick. “I’d pound you into this couch right here until you couldn’t think about anything other than my dick stretching you open, filling you up. I’d make you cum over and over again, until you cry and beg for more. But you won’t take me up on my offer, I know you won’t.” Mike lets go of him and backs away. Looks at him hazily. “And it’s a shame, really.”
Will’s pupils are blown out, cheeks pinker than ever, mouth parted as his breath comes in ragged pulls. I did that. Mike thinks, admiring his work. Normally this would turn into panic, into questions he doesn’t know how to answer. But right now he’s too drunk to follow any thought all the way through.
“Goodnight.” he says simply, as he stands on wobbly legs, and makes his way to his bedroom. The walk is short. He bumps lightly into the doorframe on the way in. Doesn’t bother turning off the lamp. The mattress dips under him and the relief is immediate. He groans into the pillow. Feels like he’s melting. His thoughts start dissolving into fragments— Will’s flushed face, the chill of the apartment, the faint smell of wine still lingering in the air. Somewhere beyond the haze, he hears Will’s bedroom door shut and sleep takes him quick.