Chapter Text
“Are you sure you'll be fine alone for a week?”
Joyce pushes the one stray strand off Will’s forehead, running her fingers through his hair, down to the nape. Will winces when she tugs on a knot unknowingly.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, pulling the blanket tighter over his shoulders when the cold November air rushes through the door, making him shiver. “I’m just sad that I can’t go with you.”
“We’ll visit Jonathan soon, don't worry baby.”
He nods absently, his eyes following his mother’s movements as she hands her bag over the threshold to Hopper.
“Honestly, you're better off staying here,” Will turns and looks up at Jonathan, who's coming down the stairs, when addressed, “We're just gonna be unpacking, carrying furniture, then moving the furniture again when mom decides we’re useless at designing the space. Then we're gonna pass out and sleep for three days.” his brother shrugs, “You’ll visit me when all the hard work is done.”
Will pouts, but Jonathan does have a really good point. Will hates any form of physical work. “I don't know,” he mutters.
He trails his eyes after his brother as he puts on his jacket. Will shivers automatically, remembering that he’s standing with one foot practically out in the cold. His mother would scold him, but the second he closes the front door, he’ll be on his way to open all the windows and let the air back in. The cool wind works wonders on his warm skin, despite eliciting the most annoying goosebumps. He knows that the best way to get rid of his fever would be to sweat it out, but that's all he's been doing for the past five days and he only feels sicker. The air at least brings some weird sort of relief.
It's weird to think that Jonathan won't be here when Will wakes up tomorrow. He’s so happy for his brother to move out, to attend his dream university, but it’s… strange. Will doesn't know life without Jonathan. He’s not sure he wants to.
“I'll miss you. We'll see each other soon,” Jonathan grips his shoulders tightly, pulling him into a hug. Will melts, curling in when he feels Jonathan place his chin on top of his head. “Winter break is soon, right?”
Will nods into the stiff material of his jacket, rubbing his tears into his cheek, “Yeah.”
Jonathan rubs his back comfortingly before he pulls back. His face contorts in a shape of pure gloom when he locks eyes with Will.
“Don't cry, because I’ll cry.”
Will feels like throwing hands out of frustration, how can he not cry?
But he only clings harder onto the blanket.
“I’m so fucking emotional lately. It's because of you.”
Jonathan scoffs, ruffling Will's hair, “Yeah sure, blame everything on me.”
Will stares at him pointedly, even though it’s hard being mad at him right now, with his streaked cheeks serving as a reminder of why they're even having this talk.
“I'll miss you.” Will repeats, “See you soon. Call me when you get there, okay?”
Jonathan nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, sure.”
Will watches as he takes the last bag from their mother's hands and slings it over his shoulder. Will's heart fills with a strange sense of longing when he listens to their bickering.
Joyce scolds him when he tries to step out of the house, even though the open front door does nothing to block him from the harsh weather. Walking with them to the car surely wouldn't make him any difference.
He waves to Jane and Hopper, already seated in the thrumming car and stares quietly as the rest of his family gets inside of the vehicle.
Will stays there, trailing his eyes behind them until the car disappears from his line of sight.
***
“I guess I'm just sad. And sick. And I'm mad, because I'm sick,” Will rambles on, “If I didn’t catch that stupid cold I'd be well on my way to New York with them right now.”
He leans back on the bed until his head hits the pillows. His legs dangle off of the edge of his twin bed, brushing against the fluffy carpet underneath. “Now I'm gonna die here alone and no one will even discover my body until next week.”
“You're really dramatic, you know that, right?”
Will lets out a puff of air at Max's words, twisting his head sideways. It's so hot here. His voice comes out muffled by the pillow, “I don't care.”
His thumb hurts from holding the button on his walkie, but he keeps it firmly pressed anyway. If he doesn't talk then he’ll just wallow in his thoughts.
“Maybe I should do something. Watch a really sad movie so I can be even more sad. Shift my focus.”
“Uhh,” Max starts and Will can almost picture her scrunching her forehead and tilting her head, “I’m not sure if that–”
Will sits up, startled, when he hears the doorbell ring. He ignores Max and looks out the open window, but all he sees is a distinct tall silhouette. It’s too dark for him to tell who it is.
“Max, I’m about to get kidnapped.”
He jumps up when the knocking starts, the sound traveling up all the way to his room.
“What are you talking about?”
He retreats to the entry of his room, stepping into a hallway unsurely. Will leaves the window open, hoping that the room would cool down in the meantime of his absence.
“‘Dunno. Someone's at the door.”
“A robber?”
“I don't think a robber would knock,” as if on cue, the knocking resumes, louder this time, “But he is persistent.”
He descends the stairs quickly, holding onto the railing when his head spins a little, “I'm taking you with me as a witness.” he whispers into the device as he reaches the front door.
“What am I supposed to witness through walkie-talkie?”
“My last words?” he says looking through the peephole. He drops his shoulders, breathing out, when he sees who it is outside. “Oh, it’s just Mike,” he tells Max, unlocking the door with his free hand. “If I do end up dead today, make sure to interrogate him.”
“Who's interrogating who?”
Will urges him inside, ignoring his question, and closes the door.
“I’d more expect Wheeler to kidnap you, rather than kill.”
Will blushes at Max's teasing tone. He busies himself with locking the door, prolonging the time until he has to turn back and face Mike.
“Bye Max.” he says, turning off the device before she’s got time to answer.
“Why are you dressed so lightly?”
Will turns to Mike at his question, surprised, locking eyes with him.
Mike's gaze burns his skin, scanning thoroughly his bare limbs. He just stands there, not making a single move to take off his jacket or, at least, that fuckass beanie. His hair is surely matted underneath the thick cotton. Will can't wait to scheme his way into fluffing them up for him.
“I've got a fever.” he shrugs lightly, playing nonchalant, in an attempt to not let Mike notice how flustered he got at the attention.
He isn’t even dressed that lightly, he’s got his sleep pants and Jonathan's loose t-shirt on. The only bare skin is his arms and neck. And maybe one of his collarbones where the shirt’s collar dropped off his left shoulder.
He doesn't fix the material, he likes the way Mike's eyes are hung on the area.
“What are you even knocking for? Didn't I give you a key?” Will asks, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.
“Forgot it.”
Will rolls his eyes, but lets himself be pulled into a hug either way when the Alpha opens his arms to greet him properly.
Mike squeezes his waist shortly and so lightly, Will almost feels like he just imagined the touch.
“Okay,” Mike starts when he pulls away. He rubs the length of Will’s bare arms to warm him up and get rid of the goosebumps protruding his milky skin. “Go to your room and get dressed properly,” he nods to himself as he instructs Will, “I'll get started on dinner.”
Will's mouth parts, surprised, but he's too stunned to even reply. His eyes track the movements of his best friend’s long fingers as they work on the zipper of his jacket and stays still, glued to his spot.
Mike lifts his head, slinging the jacket off his shoulders, and smiles at him playfully.
“Go.” he shoos him away, pointing at the stairs.
So Will goes, cursing quietly under his breath.
***
“Can I help with something?”
Will asks as he steps into the kitchen with his hoodie pulled over his head. His fever must've eased up a little, seeing as he doesn't feel like crawling out of his skin with the additional layer on. Mike's got a full set up done, pan searing on the stove as he melts the butter with his back turned towards Will.
“No, just sit.”
Will starts sitting down on the floor, when Mike spins around pointing at him with a spatula. “Not on the floor. On a chair like a normal human being.”
“How did you even know I was gonna sit on the floor,” Will mutters low, straightening his back.
His eyes land on the chair pulled up for him. The issue with a chair is that there's no space to place it anywhere in the vicinity of the stove, so Will would be left sitting almost in the living room. Might as well be miles away at this point.
And Will doesn't want to not be near Mike right now.
His skin is crawling when he brushes past Mike, their elbows sliding against each other.
Will takes that split second to breathe in his scent discreetly. His mind gets hazy when the scent of fresh grass and rain fills his airways. It feels like the scent is burning its way through his body, spreading some weird sense over Will. He feels comforted by it, but at the same time the scent makes his hands and teeth itch. He feels amped up.
He pulls himself up on the counter across from Mike, close enough to calm his racing heart and far enough to not do anything stupid like inhale his Alpha best friend’s smell. Or rub himself against him.
Will scrunches his eyebrows at his thoughts, where did that even come from?
“I'm making omelettes, I hope that's fine with you?”
Will shakes his head, getting rid of his confusing thoughts when Mike speaks up.
“Yeah, no, that's great. Omelette is great.”
He breathes out quietly which proves to be a mistake when he draws back the air into his lungs just as deep, to try to settle himself down, and gets hit with an almost electrifying wave of pheromones.
Will feels goosebumps poking through the skin on his body, mouth salivating. He has no idea what's happening with his body and it feels eerie, he doesn't know why he's not in control anymore, it's like something slipped into him and took the stere, leaving him in the dark about the destination.
His eyes sway to the Alpha without his acknowledgment, drawn to him like a magnet.
He's standing there, leaning over the kitchen island with his hands anchored on the counter. His knuckles are white due to the death grip he’s maintaining.
Will wishes he could see his face, to see something that would help him understand.
The air is thick around him and he’s scared to try and pierce his lungs with it. He starts fiddling with his hands, trying to distract himself from the heavy atmosphere.
Will's startled but grateful when Mike breaks the silence, clearing his throat.
“So… How’s– How are you feeling? Did you plan already when you're going to go see Jonathan?”
Mike's voice wavers a little, the ends of his words drawn out, almost slurred.
Will blinks his way out of his haze.
“Um, the– the winter break. If everything works out.”
Mike nods quickly, his grip lifting as he resumes looking through the cupboards, readying the plates.
“Cool. That's cool.”
Will nods slowly, absent-mindedly, following Mike's movements with his eyes. He wants to keep Mike talking. He wants to listen to him.
“How's school been? Did you finish that project with Dustin?”
Mike locks eyes with Will over his shoulder. The contact is brief, as if he's only checking up on him. Mike focuses his attention on cracking the eggs, not sparing any more time to look back at the beta.
It makes Will feel somehow off. Mike always looks at him.
But when he takes a deep breath in and starts talking, Will tunes out his worries, focusing on the words slipping out of his lips.
He listens as Mike retells him everything Will missed this week, not sparing him any details, no matter how small and insignificant. His steady tone slows Will’s beating heart, putting him under some sort of a spell. He feels a little groggy, like he just rolled out of bed.
“I can’t believe that Jane gets a week off just like that.” Will mumbles, dropping his shoulders, when the subject switches from ‘Dustin’s a pain in the ass to work with in a pair’ to ‘The overall attendance is shit and I get called out to answer teachers' questions way too often’.
“As if you've been going to school lately.” Mike replies, his tone teasing.
Will pouts, “But that's ‘cause I'm sick and miserable, not because I'm on a roadtrip.”
Mike hums in lieu of a response.
“I got notes for you.” Mike looks back at him, pointing with his shoulder in the direction of his backpack, his hands busy scraping the spatula across the pan.
“Oh,” Will's gaze follows the direction he’s pointing at instinctively, “Thank you,”
Mike shrugs, “I figured you'd want to read through it before everything piles up if you're still too sick to go to school next week.”
Will bites down on his blooming smile, looking down at his fiddling fingers. It’s nice being seen and understood. He very sporadically feels like he has to address his needs or preferences with Mike. The Alpha just knows.
“Thanks. I'm sure I'm gonna have a great time trying to figure out what kind of monstrosity you’ve been learning for the past week on math.” he giggles.
“Oh no, leave the math for now. I'll come and explain it to you.” Mike throws over his shoulder, sliding the steaming omelettes onto the plates he’s prepared before. “I was thinking more about English, it seemed fun enough from what I peeked at.”
Will frowns, perplexed, tilting his head.
“We don't have English together.”
“No, really?” Mike teases, turning around to face him. With the way Will’s perched on the counter, they're roughly at the same height. “I've asked around. I've got every single one of your classes covered.”
Will's eyes widen with surprise, his fingers stopping threading through each other.
Mike went out of his way to make things easier for him. The thought feels so good it’s almost suffocating.
“Oh. I didn't say it. I didn’t even ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Will's skin gets warmer at that. He breaks eye contact, unable to hold it any longer.
His eyes shift back to the counter behind Mike, landing on the steamy meal. It looks great, but Will feels like he might throw up if he eats anything at this moment.
It still serves as a good distraction.
Will clears his throat, eyes flicking only for a second back to his best friend, who's still staring at him.
“Should we, uh, should we eat? Before it gets cold,” he laughs nervously.
Why is he so nervous? It's not new for him to get flustered around Mike, even shy, but this, borderline stressed? This is something new.
Mike blinks, as if woken up from a trance.
“Yeah, let me just,” he spins away, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through cutlery.
He places the utensils on the plates and looks back at Will.
“Do you need help?”
“What?”
Mike flicks his eyes down Will's figure, “Do you need help getting down?”
Will flushes, “No! I can get down myself.”
Will braces his hands on the counter on either side of his hips when he hears Mike muttering something underneath his breath, too low for him to decipher.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Will squints at him, thrown off by the speed with which said words left his mouth.
He doesn't have time to worry about it though, because as soon as his sock clad feet land on the floor, his head starts spinning.
He wobbles, backing himself back into the counter to not fall over. His head aches, dull pain searing its way through his skull, starting at the forehead. His vision blacks out for a second, coming back blurry and darkened along the edges.
Will can feel hands gripping his shoulders, steadying him, and he accepts the hold gratefully, thankful for someone to take his weight away from him, even if just for a minute. His vision is fuzzy, eyes searching for Mike’s face, but not focusing enough to make out his features. He can faintly gather that Mike’s speaking to him, but his mind is too clouded to make anything out of it.
Will closes his eyes, tuning out as much as he can, and focusing solely on his breathing so as to not lose himself into this sense of panic washing over him.
He breathes in, swallowing when a wave of prickling pain rushes through his head. He lifts his hand to rub against his forehead, meeting a damp surface of his hot skin.
Once his breathing slows down and he focuses on Mike’s hands massaging his shoulders, he opens his eyes, searching for his friend's face.
Mike looks at him worried, with pinched eyebrows and wide eyes zeroed on Will’s face.
“Will,” Will's knees get weaker upon hearing his name said in such chaste tone. Mike's hands move to his ribcage, more holding him up than just steadying now, “Will, we have to get you to your room, okay? Can you walk?”
Will's barely able to decipher Mike's words, said hastily, with a sense of urgency he's never heard coming from him before.
Will blinks at him, unable to formulate an answer. He doesn't think he can walk, he just wants to lay down, he's so tired, so hot.
“Okay, okay then,” Mike whispers, “I'm gonna carry you there, okay? Would that be okay? Am I not too close?”
Will shakes his head, not really understanding why their proximity would be a problem. He wants to stay with Mike, he needs to stay with him.
Mike breathes out and adjusts his grip a few times, moving his hands without lifting them off Will’s body, searching for a place good enough to lift the smaller boy up and hold him comfortably.
Will whines at the contact, craning his neck instinctively when Mike places his hands on his shoulders, tightening the grasp.
“Will, stop please,” he pleads, “Please, stop.”
But Will doesn't pay him any attention, too focused on Mike's scent, on how it just got heavier, more saturated. On how it seems to pierce Will's skin, making it harder to keep his head clear.
Mike gently takes hold of Will’s head, directing him into maintaining eye contact as he explains.
“Will, I’m going to lift you, okay? And you're going to wrap your legs around my waist. Can you do that?”
Will nods obediently, looking into Mike's blown out pupils. He wants to be good.
So when Mike lifts him, he does as told, pressing himself against the Alpha’s body. His hoodie clings uncomfortably to his sweaty skin, sticky and thick, where his chest fits snugly against Mike’s.
Mike attempts to pull their bodies a little further apart, but Will slings his arms over his shoulders, holding onto him. Will’s fingers lace against Mike’s nape as the Alpha springs into motion, heading for the stairs.
Will's eyelids flutter closed, head lulling to the side as he breaths in Mike's rich smell. He’s never been this close to his scent gland. Will wishes he could rub his face against it, he wishes there was a way to soak every single note of the fresh, pure rain, of the grass and the faint field flowers. He wishes Mike would scent him.
Tears well up in his eyes at the thought, he wants it so bad, he craves so much to be bathed in him, to never smell like anything else. He wants to merge into Mike and build his home underneath his skin.
The air around him loosens up, getting lighter, as he gets laid on his bed.
Will writhes on its surface, flushed skin on his bare hands and neck smoothed by the cool material of his duvet.
He scrambles out of his thick hoodie, whimpering when the cold, gracious, air hits his burning chest.
It's only when a loud thump echoes through the room that he notices Mike has left his side.
Will twists his head in the direction of the sound and props himself up on his elbows to see better. He feels out of breath, his chest rising up and down rapidly, lungs grasping onto every resemblance of oxygen they can decipher, but it’s gotten only harder to breathe, everything around him smells heavily sweet or just purely Mike.
Mike's standing by the window, frozen, with his hand still on the, now closed, window’s handle.
That open window was the only sane thing bringing Will any scraps of relief.
“Keep it open,” Will croaks out, “It’s so hot, open it back,” he stresses.
Mike snaps out of his daze, his stare getting sharper.
“I won’t open it.”
“Mike–”
“Do you want everyone smelling your heat? Because I won’t allow it.”
His tone, nor his words, don't leave any space to argue. Will has never experienced Mike being so stern, so strict, with him.
When the initial shock at Mike’s outburst passes, only then Will processes his words.
Heat?
Will's lip wobbles, confused and shaken.
“What?”
His voice is quiet, barely audible over his hard breathing.
“What?” his mouth is dry as he repeats, pleading for an explanation, “What do you mean?”
His voice breaks as he questions. The tears, until now only gathering underneath his eyelids, break and spill down both of his cheeks, leaving a cool, singular trail on his flushed skin, as he searches frantically along the lines of Mike's face for an answer.
“You didn’t realize?”
Will sits up, propping himself up on his shaking hands and wipes down his cheeks, barely acknowledging Mike’s question. His fingers tremble as they smudge the wet tracks.
“What is going on with me?”
Will gasps on the air, his lungs spasming, trying to grasp onto anything that would help him make any sense of this. Anything.
He can’t be in heat, betas don't have heats. It's not possible for Will to be in heat. He's not an Omega. He isn’t he isn't he isn't–
His hands fall back down onto his lap when Mike pulls him into a tentative hug.
Will clings onto his stiff shoulders, hiding his face into his t-shirt. Will’s body goes lax as he breathes in the scent of his home.
When a steady, heavy, wave of grass and rain seeps into his pores, Will whines, accepting the safety he's being granted when Mike starts scenting him. It's like some of the weight is lifted off of his shoulders when the anxiety disperses, leaving him in a warm, secure place, far away in his head, away from the harsh reality.
He resurfaces when a hand places itself on his head, threading its digits through his matted hair. Will cranes himself into the soft touch.
“Will,” the fingers scratch across his scalp, making his eyelids flutter, half-open at the pleasant sensation.
“Will, baby,” Will whines at the pet name rolling off of his Alpha’s tongue. He rolls his heavy head to the side, looking up at Mike.
Mike looks down at him with soft dreamy eyes. Will almost believes him that he's keeping his cool by that one look at his deep irises, but as his gaze slides lower, catching onto the way Mike seems to be holding his breath, or when Will pays attention to his fingers, dug into the Omega’s hair, only then he understands how much self-control this situation requires of him.
“You're not a beta, you're an Omega, do you understand?” Will only manages to nod. He's never heard Mike's voice in quite this setting – this smooth, this gentle. “You're just presenting late, but it’s alright, okay? Everything's alright.” Will nods mindlessly, barely hearing his words, focusing entirely on the movements of Mike's lips, “I'll take care of you.”
Will's breath hitches, lips parting at the statement. He closes his fists around his knees, digging his blunt fingernails into the only part of clothing left on his body. He can’t help but feel like the current wave of heat rushing through his insides was directly induced by said words. By Mike stating that he's going to take care of him.
His trail of thoughts cover every single touch and word Mike could’ve meant by saying such a thing – Will imagines the Alpha holding him down, feeling up his body with his wandering hands, pushing–
Will whimpers when he feels the slick gathering, threatening to spill out of him. He hopes Mike can smell how eager–
“Fuck,” Mike pulls away as if burned, “No, no, that's not what I meant,” he scrambles out of the bed, leaving only a step worth of space between himself and the door.
Will looks at Mike back longingly, hating the lack of his skin against his own.
“Mike, no, come back,”
“Will, please, I’m trying– so hard, to do this right,”
Will lays down on his back, not breaking their eye contact.
“Don't go.”
Will's eyes follow Mike's parted lips as they quiver. The Omega quietly enjoys the star-struck look on his face. The hunger in his widened pupils, the composure he's trying to maintain by not breathing in Will's scent.
Will sighs, running his hands down his stomach, soothing his feverish skin. He drops his gaze down, noting his rapidly moving chest and red-tinted skin. It’s like he’s burning all over, like something wants to crawl out from underneath his skin, piercing and poking little holes, releasing this smothering heat. He’s only faintly surprised to notice that the cotton covering his lower parts is strained.
He gasps, scratching at his skin, when the sound of slamming doors redirects his attention into said direction.
Will bites his lip at the wooden surface, now alone in his bedroom, laughing breathlessly when he hears the key being turned inside of the lock, successfully separating him and Mike.
***
The next three days Will passes in almost a dream-like state. He feels like the time melted together, like the minutes, the hours didn’t mean anything more than simple words that, in the past, used to describe some sort of a time construct. He can barely remember anything other than excruciating heat and exhaustion weighing down his body, keeping him practically chained to his own bed.
His whole body is sore, his muscles ache as he lifts a water bottle up to his dry lips. Will’s sure that he must be dehydrated at this point, as he’s barely been drinking throughout the last few days, not having the energy to do anything other than writhe on his bed and cry from exhaustion.
He hopes that his regular heats are going to be easier. He has to talk with his mom about it. Or Jonathan. Maybe Jonathan.
He springs up into a full sitting position when three loud knocks land on his door. He must’ve not heard the key being turned in the keyhole.
“Wait!" he calls before Mike could have the time to back away, down the hallway to wait until Will can snatch the water and snacks he presumably brought for him, like he’s been doing for the past few days.
Will gets up, casting a quick look onto the mess on his bed, not caring enough to do anything other than throw the sheets hanging off off the side back onto the furniture, placing it somewhat decent. He does kick his slick-covered clothes under his bed, before throwing his closet open and putting on a pair of shorts underneath the The Clash t-shirt he's wearing.
Will pulls the door open, breathing out in relief, when he notices Mike standing there, clutching a brand new water bottle in one hand and a pack of rice waffles in the other.
The Alpha’s standing there, glued to his spot, staring at him.
Oh, right, he must look disgusting right now.
Will pulls a face, “Sorry, I, uh, must look terrible,” he waves his hand mindlessly, “I just– it’s over,” he breathes out, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, getting nervous underneath the Alpha’s heavy gaze, “I’m gonna go shower.” he finishes quietly.
Mike nods, stepping aside to let Will pass.
Will smiles at him, timid and a little unnerved by his silence. Mike’s rarely this quiet.
It’s not until Will’s halfway down the hallway that he speaks up.
“Can I go into your room?” Will turns back, confused at the question. Of course Mike can go into his room.
“Of course.”
“Can I– Would you be comfortable if I changed your sheets and cleaned up a little?”
His unsure tone makes Will glance down, at the way Mike’s knuckles turn white due to his relentless grip.
“It’s just that, you must be tired, you need some rest and– I’m not saying that you need rest, you know best what you need, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but if you wanted to–”
“Mike,” Will starts, when Mike starts running out of breath, “It’s fine, you can do whatever you want, but don't feel obligated to do anything, please,” Will rushes to keep speaking, when Mike breathes in and opens his mouth to disagree, “I’m gonna take a quick shower and get back to you soon. I do need a nap, actually” he smiles, “I bet I look the part too.”
“No, no, you don’t,” Mike says, taking a step, with one foot over the threshold to Will’s bedroom, now that he's gotten his permission, but his eyes don't leave Will's face for even a second. It’s almost as if he's putting the distance between them on purpose.
Which is strange, given his body language. It’s telling Will something entirely different in comparison to his actions.
“You look breathtaking.”
Will's mouth parts, shocked at the blatant compliment, as Mike disappears into the room.
Will functions on autopilot as he walks to the bathroom and closes the door. He looks at himself in the mirror and sees nothing short of exhausted, blushing Omega staring back at him.
It’s weird thinking of himself as an Omega. He’s lived seventeen years, so sure of his secondary gender. He was good with being a beta, he liked not dealing with heats, ruts and every single downside of being anything other than what he thought he was. He did long for some things too – he always loved the idea of being courted, building nests, scenting. He used to watch his Omega family members and catch himself smiling at them with sadness rather than joy.
Will smiles at his reflection, noting all of the miniscule changes he sees there, staring back at him.
His skin is glowing, misty and glassy. His cheeks are dusted with a new sense of pinkish flush he's only ever seen on girls on the front cover of magazines, enhanced with artificial blush. The pink hues coating his cheekbones emphasize that glassiness in his eyes, his slowly gathering tears.
He takes a deep breath in, longing to know what he smells like. He remembers that it’s sweet, but when he tries to decipher each of the notes in his scent it feels like pure sugar clings to his trachea. The more time he spends there, focusing on every little difference between those undertones, he recognizes caramel and something resembling so much the smell of peanut butter that it instantly puts a smile on his face. Underneath all of that sweetness lies something else – something fruity, something alive. It's so faint that he can't even pinpoint what fruit it is exactly.
Will gets into the shower, making the water as cold as his body allows him without shivering.
His eyelids fall close when the cool droplets slide off his skin. He hopes that Mike is going to air his room, so when he steps back inside, with his skin and hair still damp, the cold air will cling to him.
God, he would kill for a tub of ice cream right now.
He's not sure what to feel about the whole ordeal. About Mike staying here, taking care of him. Will’s a little confused, but not enough to let it bother him when he’s still coming off of his high, not enough to beat himself over it, since Mike's been nothing but sweet and understanding to him.
Maybe Will should be a little embarrassed, maybe he should be more wary, but he can't, not really. Not when Mike is the only person Will could ever want to be there for him in this crazy state.
It astonishes Will that he actually stayed instead of calling his mom and making them turn right back around. And maybe it turns him on a little, how much self-control Mike proved to have – being an unmated Alpha, locked in a house with an Omega in heat. A willing Omega no less.
Will giggles to himself, giddy. Now that he's presented, he sees a sliver of hope for him, maybe there will come a time that he feels brave enough to confess to Mike.
Will washes his hair quickly, itching to get back to him.
He shivers a little when he steps out of the cabin and the cool air hits him. It doesn't take him long to dry himself off and put the clothes back on.
Will's footsteps are quick, landing quietly as he walks down the hallway, stopping in front of the halfway open door, leading to his room.
Wind blows through the open window, grazing the soft material of his clean sheets. His bed is perfectly made, decorative pillows placed at the top, practically calling Will to make a use out of them.
There's a mug on his nightstand, steam visible and swerving due to the cloudy, windy weather that's been allowed inside.
A hand being placed on his back startles him. He turns around to face Mike, grateful when the Alpha doesn't drop his hand, sliding it down to rest on Will's waist instead.
“I've made you some tea.” Mike inclines his head in the direction of Will’s nightstand.
“Thanks.” Will smiles up at him, “I don't know how I feel about anything that's above lukewarm right now, though.”
Mike guides him into the room, lifting his hand off of Will’s body to point vaguely into the direction of his bed, wordlessly instructing the Omega to lay down.
“I'd rather you drink it. The room is freezing and I can bet that the shower you took was similar temperature.”
Will gets into the bed, seating himself against the headboard. He pouts, but accepts the mug when Mike hands it to him, hovering near the bed.
“I want ice cream.” Will murmurs, taking a break from blowing at the hot liquid.
“A whole tub's cooling in the freezer.”
Will's eyes light up, as he draws the mug away from his lips.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you'll get it after your nap.”
“I didn’t have ice cream, Jane and I ate the last bit before they left.” Will frowns, not liking the idea that popped into his head, “Did you leave? Before? Did you leave to get it?”
Mike shakes his head shortly with a small smile plastered to his face.
“No, I got it on Sunday, when I came over.” he sits down on the edge of the bed. Too far away, for Will's liking. “I wouldn’t have left you.”
Will feels butterflies swirling around his stomach at the confession. He's suddenly nervous. He lifts the mug up to his lips to stall.
The tea burns his tongue a little but it’s a pleasant feeling. It's nice when the heat comes from the outside, not inside.
Will's attention shifts back to Mike when he clears his throat.
“I need to apologize to you.”
Will pulls the mug away from his lips, setting it back on the nightstand slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“I took advantage of you.”
Will straightens his back, tensing.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Me scenting you. I'm so sorry, I should've asked, I know I should've, but you were so scared, so overwhelmed and I didn't know what to do,” His voice is shaky as he explains, “But that doesn't justify what I did and I'm so sorry. I understand if you don't trust me anymore.”
Will stares at him, at a loss for words. The tension in his muscles dissolves as the alarm he's been feeling lessens gradually while Mike talks.
This stupid, stupid Alpha.
“Mike. Of course I trust you,” Will moves down the bed, stopping when he's only at an arm's length away from Mike, “You're right, I was very distressed, but you helped me. The scenting did help me, a lot. Don't beat yourself over it, please.” Will keeps their eye contact, hoping that Mike can grasp onto the sincerity he's trying to communicate, “I’m actually really impressed with your self-control,” he smiles teasingly, “and very thankful that you stayed and took care of me.”
Mike smiles at him, pulling Will's hand into his lap, lacing their fingers together.
Will looks at their joined hands with butterflies swirling inside of his stomach.
“That's what best friends are for.”
Well, fuck.
Will rolls his eyes affectionately, Mike's back at his bullshit then.
“Sure. Best friends.”