I Need 33,36 And 12 With Byler For Mental Health Reasons

i need 33,36 and 12 with byler for mental health reasons

It's Christmas Eve, and there's a knock at the door.

Will is sprawled out on the couch, half-watching some Christmas special with Hopper sitting beside him smoking a cigarette that he occasionally holds out for Will to take a drag off of. Joyce is in the kitchen, bustling about making dinner, and every time she catches Hopper handing Will the cigarette she sends them both a disapproving look that Hopper returns with a shrug.

Will's in a bit of a mood, anyway, and he can tell Hopper notices, because he's being far less gruff than usual, sitting quietly with his cigarette and occasionally shooting Will indecipherable looks. And- okay, Will knows he's being a little ridiculous, but he's down, okay? It's his first time back home since starting college this fall, and the main appeal of Christmas had been getting to see one Mike Wheeler, who's at a different college a whole three states away, who he hasn't seen in almost three weeks now, who he misses something fierce even though, technically speaking, the two of them have survived much worse.

But then Mike had had too much work to do, too many things to study for, too many shifts to take at the diner he works at part-time, too many arguments with his parents to justify a trip home to see them, and he'd called Will with a heavy tone and informed him that I just don't think I can go back to Hawkins right now, I'm sorry, I love you, I'll see you soon, okay?

And now someone's knocking at the door, and Will can't bring himself to care who it is because he knows that it's not his boyfriend, and he doesn't much care about anything else right now.

Will glances half-heartedly toward the door, too comfortable in his petty melancholy to really want to get up. "Mom, someone's at the door," he calls, even though he's closer to the door, and he hopes that the pity his parents are feeling for him will extend far enough to excuse his vaguely shitty behavior. It's probably Jonathan or El, who are both scheduled to get in later tonight, but maybe one of their flights got moved up or something, and Will does want to see his siblings, he does, but he also really, really doesn't want to get up from the couch and they both have keys anyway, so surely they can fend for themselves.

Joyce appears from around the corner, drying her hands on a towel and glancing up at the clock on the wall. "Oh," she says, a small smile spreading over her face. "Could you get that, sweetie?"

Will frowns at her. "Do I have to?"

"We're watching something," Hopper agrees, and Joyce shoots him a look.

"Will, honey, I think it's for you," Joyce says, widening her eyes at Hopper meaningfully, and he stares back at her, unperturbed. "Can you get it, please?"

There's another knock, and Will squints at his mother as he lifts himself off of the couch and reluctantly heads for the door. The rest of the Party doesn't show up till tomorrow, he knows, all at staggered times and with various plans for the day. He probably won't get to see them for a couple days, what with family traditions and everything. Clearly, his mother is up to something.

Will opens the door, and immediately does a double take.

Mike Wheeler is standing on his doorstep, in all his six-foot-one, long-haired and dark-eyed glory, and he lifts his hand in a small wave, smiling evenly. "Hi."

Will whips around to face his mother, one hand gripping the doorjamb for dear life as he glances frantically back and forth between her and the boy on his doorstep. "Wh- how did you- what the fuck?" he splutters, cheeks reddening as he drinks in the sight of his boyfriend, here and present and all wrapped up in a winter coat that's three sizes too big for him, looking, quite frankly, like a complete idiot, but- he's Will's idiot.

Joyce grins, entirely pleased with herself. "Mike was upset about missing Christmas," she says, leaning one hip against the arm of the sofa like this is the most normal thing in the world, "So I offered him a place to stay for a couple days."

Will opens his mouth, then closes it again, turning back to Mike, who's grinning widely. "It was super last-minute," he tells Will quietly, shifting a little closer, "otherwise I would have told you, but I was just sitting in my dorm yesterday and it hit me all at once that I couldn't miss Christmas with you, especially not over something as stupid as my parents and school and shit, so I called your mom in a panic and we got me on a plane here and- oof," he cuts himself off as Will rockets into his arms, shoving his face into the crook of Mike's neck and throwing his arms around his waist. Mike laughs quietly, catching him easily and pulling him close, one hand in Will's hair as he kisses the side of his head.

"Hi," Will murmurs into his neck, voice muffled by the down of Mike's jacket, squeezing him as tightly as he can without hurting him. "Hi, I love you, I missed you, I'm so glad you're here."

Faintly, he makes out the sounds of Joyce saying something to Hopper, and the soft rustling of Hopper standing up from the couch and, presumably, following Joyce into the kitchen to give them some privacy.

"I missed you too," Mike whispers in Will's ear, and the feeling of his warm breath against his face, tactile and real and not static with interference from the phone, is enough for a few tears to leak out the corners of Will's eyes. "I missed you so much, you have no idea."

A giddy laugh bubbles up from Will's ribcage, and he bends his knees, arms shifting to lift Mike into the air, Mike's arms winding their way around Will's neck as he laughs good-naturedly. Will hugs him tighter, Mike's legs dangling off the ground, and spins him around once, enjoying the solid weight of Mike in his arms. "Will!" Mike yelps, clinging to him, "Will, baby, put me down, you're going to hurt yourself!"

This is probably true, and the magic of Mike's visit would be significantly marred by a trip to the hospital, so Will dutifully loosens his grip on Mike, letting him slide back down until his feet touch the ground. Mike smiles down at him, arms still around Will's neck, and Will reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of Mike's eyes, gentle and soft and relishing the warmth of Mike's face against his fingertips. He tucks the hair behind Mike's ear, leaving his hand resting gently on the side of his face, and swipes a thumb over Mike's jaw, smiling back at him.

"I love you," Mike says, voice honey-sweet and giddy with happiness, and Will wastes no time in pushing forward, pressing his lips against Mike's and feeling his smile against his mouth. Mike tugs him closer, still smiling like an idiot into the kiss, but Will can't blame him when he giggles softly against Mike's lips, overwhelmed and still not entirely sure he's not dreaming. But then Mike is nudging closer, opening his mouth and kissing Will open and slow, and Will sinks into the reality of him, sure it's not a dream because there's no way his brain could have predicted how good this would feel, having Mike in his arms again, his lips slotted against Will's.

Will pulls back a little dazedly, hands still on Mike's face, and he looks so beautiful, lips kissed red and cheeks pink from the cold, and Will's forgotten all about his melancholy when he has this work of art smiling down at him.

"You've been smoking," Mike observes, not particularly sounding like he minds, and Will rolls his eyes even as a smile tugs at his lips.

"Shut up, I was sad," he complains, shoving his face back into Mike's neck.

"Was I worth the surprise?" Mike asks softly, kissing the top of his head and winding a hand through Will's hair.

Will huffs a laugh, incredulous that he even has to ask, and he pulls back to stare up at Mike. "Yes," he says, grinning like an idiot, "Yes, you're worth- everything, I can't believe- yes."

"Good," Mike says, kissing the tip of Will's nose once, twice. "Do you think I could come inside now? It's fucking freezing outside."

"Oh, right," Will laughs, stepping away just enough to allow Mike into the house and watching with a warm feeling blooming in his chest as Mike shrugs off his jacket. Mike Wheeler is in his house. Mike Wheeler is here, beside Will, and it's Christmas, and Will is in love.

He can't help himself when he strides over to Mike and wraps himself around him, arms tight around his waist and at a slightly awkward angle, pressing his cheek into the fabric of Mike's sweater. Mike laughs, hands grasping at Will's arms where they're thrown around his waist, and Will takes a shaky breath, happiness seeping through every inch of his body.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he whispers, tilting his head until his chin rests on Mike's shoulder, peering lovingly up at him through his lashes, and Mike meets his eyes with a sappy smile, like he's thinking all the same things that Will is.

"Merry Christmas, Will."