loverboys

It's seven at night and the party is gathered in Mike's basement, drunk on laughter and cold pizza and togetherness. Will is in his wizard costume--well, the cape is draped across his lap as he stretches out on the couch and the tall, pointed purple hat is askew, a couple jostles away from falling straight off, so maybe he isn't exactly in costume, but he doesn't really care at this point, because the room is full of warmth and giddiness and he hasn't felt so at peace in what seems like forever. Mike is sprawled out on the floor below him, snorting at the sight of Lucas and Dustin as they wrestle with each other.

"Give it up, man, Suzie literally saved the world," Dustin says, pinning Lucas to the ground and carelessly lifting an ugly throw pillow that Mrs. Wheeler had placed meticulously on the couch only hours before, preparing to sock Lucas in the face with it.

Lucas scoffs, rolling out of the way just as Dustin brings down the monstrosity of a cushion. It lands squarely where Lucas's face had been moments ago. "Yeah, by reciting some numbers. What was it? Pi or something? Max is way more badass."

"Planck's constant, you idiot," corrects Dustin, dodging clumsily and checking his hip on the corner of the table as Lucas lunges to tackle him to the ground. "Oh, shit, that hurt! Motherfucker!"

Will laughs. "I don't think Mrs. Wheeler would be very happy to hear that kind of language under her roof." He glances at Mike when he says this and is pleased to see that a small, amused smile has wormed its way onto the taller boy's elegant, angular face.

Alarmed, Dustin turns to the stairwell, as if he expects Mike's mother to materialize at the sound of her name like a demon being summoned. Lucas takes the opportunity to chuck a die from their unfinished campaign they had drifted away from an hour ago at Dustin's exposed nape, and his newfound basketball skills ensure him a direct hit.

"Ow!" yelps Dustin, whipping around so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet. "Oh, you'll pay for that, Sinclair--"

As the two boys' bickering continues, Will catches Mike's eye from his spot on the couch, reaching out with a socked foot and nudging Mike's hip to get his attention. A silent conversation passes between the two of them, consisting solely of secretive smiles, sparkling glances, and, occasionally, a peek at Lucas and Dustin to check whether or not they're being watched (they aren't; Lucas and Dustin, having spontaneously made a truce, are now leaning against various pieces of furniture and discussing seriously about their respective girlfriends), and eventually, Mike props himself up on his elbows, gravity sweeping a single dark curl over his face. Will bites back a smile as Mike tries to blow it out of his face, eyes crossing slightly. After a few attempts, he gives up, hooking it behind his ear impatiently, and moves to stand, making his way to the stairs.

He doesn't get far, having taken only four steps--Will counted--before Dustin and Lucas look up, eyes questioning. "Where are you going?"

"Up," replies Mike, waving his hand vaguely at the stairs. "I think my mom called." He doesn't look at Will, but his body is ever so slightly angled towards the couch where Will lounges. The corners of Will's lips quirk up at the likely-unintentional gesture. It's at times like this that he has to restrain himself from doing one of two things: either pinching himself to reassure his mind once again that he is not, in fact, trapped in a strangely realistic and detailed dream that spans several weeks, or--the urge that is much harder to resist--launching himself at Mike in front of everyone and smothering his boyfriend with kisses because God, Michael Wheeler is the single most adorable thing he's ever had the pleasure of encountering in life. He can't do either of these things because first of all, Mike would get pissy if he saw Will doing anything remotely harmful to himself, and second--well, that's self-explanatory. It isn't that he thinks that any of his friends would react badly if they ever found out that he doesn't like girls the way they do, but honestly? He doesn't want to deal with the drama that would inevitably come if he were to show any kind of affection towards Mike that wasn't strictly platonic in front of other people.