by annareadsfanfic
Will sighs out through his mouth at yet another unsuccessful attempt to unblock his nose. He woke up this morning with a horrible cold, and Joyce insisted he stayed home from school. His head is throbbing, the pain making him want to be sedated until it goes away, and it only gets worse when he coughs, hoarseness in his throat slowly increasing. He looks up at the clock hanging from his bedroom wall, which reads 2:44pm. Mike should be out of school in exactly sixteen minutes, and the phone should ring with his worry in around thirty-two minutes. He should be at the Byers' residence in fourty-seven minutes, five or take a few for weather conditions.
Part of him is embarrassed for having memorised his boyfriend's schedule so precisely, but it's not like he didn't do that two years ago as well, when they were fourteen and as clueless as El and Max are now. Though that doesn't exactly help his case, as he was hopelessly in love with Mike then as he is now; the only difference is that now Mike loves him back.
He rests his head back against the soft pillows his mother set up for him, engrossing himself in Magnum P.I. El loves this show, but he can't find it within himself to invest himself in the plot, too distracted by the clock ticking down to Mike's arrival. Even so, he pushes all thoughts out of his mind other than those related to the show, and glares at the TV light obstructing the focus of his lovesick countdown.
After a phone call spent reassuring a frantic Mike that he is, in fact, fine, and just has a cold, Will has plopped his head back against the comfort of his bed, suddenly overcome with fatigue and hunger, but too tired to get out of bed and get himself some food. He hears a door slam, and El's announcement of her arrival, before she pokes her head around Will's door to 'check he's still alive' in her words.
He can't help but chuckle at his sister's remark. He's proud of the slightly sarcastic personality she's developed while in high school, upon making new friends who are more... more her, Will guesses. She's still close with the party, hanging out with them at the arcade and celebrating every achievement with them, she just has her own social life now, and nobody has objected to that.
Suddenly, the front door busts open, Will barely concealing his grin as he hears El shriek from her spot on the couch, only to release a long list of profanities upon realising that it's Mike. He sees a cushion thrown as Mike laughs and tries to poke her in the eye, though her hands stop him getting any closer than a foot away. He eventually gives up, continuing his beeline towards the guest room that Will always rests in when he's sick, mostly for the TV.
When he walks in, he immediately begins fussing over Will, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead to check his temperature.
"Mike! I'm fine, I promise!" Will protests, swatting his hands away and laughing.
"Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything today?" He asks, ignoring Will's faux chagrin at his concern.
"I haven't, actually. Didn't want to get out of bed." The smaller boy mumbles, not questioning it when Mike darts out of the room for a few minutes.
When he comes back, he's holding a large bowl of tomato soup and a tall glass of black currant squash. Will grins at his concern as he sets down the tray holding the food on Will's lap, wrapping his free arm under the blanket to pull him up by his waist into a sitting position.
"For God's sake Will, you're supposed to feed a cold. You must be starving." Mike mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to Will's forehead.
"You'll get sick if you kiss me," Will points out, giving Mike a teasing grin.
"Don't care." And with that, Mike rests his lips against Will's for a moment, brushing a hand over his soft face gently.
Once Will's finally finished the too-large bowl of soup, Mike puts the tray on the bedside table and climbs under the covers with Will, who is lying exhaustedly on his side by now. He slowly snakes his arms around Will's chest from behind, securing one just above his hips as he rests his chin over the other boy's shoulder.
"Miiiike," he whines, though it's obvious he loves the display of affection, "you'll get sick. This is a horrible cold, trust me." He struggles half-heartedly against Mike's embrace, but the taller boy only tightens his hold, planting kisses all over Will's neck.
"I'll live. You're what's important to me right now."
"I love you." Will murmurs simply, the words holding the weight of all the stars in the galaxy.
"I love you too. More than anything." And Mike has never spoken truer words.
