Chapter Text
Dustin isn’t quite sure how he managed to make it back to his apartment, but from the smudged number, with two ‘x’s at the end, scrawled in sharpie over his arm, he’s pretty sure he had a good time. His head is killing him though, and he claws his way to a sitting position from his bed, having to stop there for a second so he doesn’t barf. He needs painkillers, and maybe some orange juice, if Mike hasn’t finished it.
He hopes the taller boy is doing okay, he vaguely remembers Mike had gotten completely wasted early in the night, but little else. Maybe someone took him home? Dustin feels a bit guilty for not explicitly warning Mike about Will’s residency in the house but rationalizes it by telling himself that it’s really their fault for not speaking to each other. God he’s never seen two people be more in love and more stupid.
He manages to stand and is on a semi-stable path to the kitchen when he is accosted by a shrill ringing. He clutches his head in pain and fumbles blindly to the phone.
El’s voice comes out with little care for Dustin’s aching head. “Will is not here. He took Mike home and now he is not here, and I am sure it is fine, but I am a little frightened. He usually calls to tell me where he is. Did Mike kick him out? Do you think he got lost coming home? I-“
Dustin blinks hard and slow, gears turning. So that was who had gotten the job of getting Mike home. Good.
El is still talking on the other end and he understands her concern, but is pretty sure it’s misplaced. Mike would lay down on a sword if Will asked, then probably offer to do Will’s English homework. If Will had it bad, Mike had it terminal.
Dustin finally decides to cut in. “I’m sure he’s here. Mike is stupid, but not that stupid.”
“I- I know, but can you- I do not know, can you check? With everything…” She trails off.
Dustin knows what she means. It’s been years since they were safe, but the whole party, older members included, can’t help being a little extra protective of Will, even though they’ve gotten marginally better at hiding it. “Give me one second.”
“Of course.”
Dustin sets the phone on the table next to the cradle and braces himself. He definitely wants to make sure Will’s okay, but when Dustin had passed the sofa, no sleeping body had been there which means he is going to have to check option number 2, something significantly more awkward. Hand massaging his neck, he trudges to the door of resident dumbass Michael Wheeler. There’s no sock on the outside and the door isn’t fully closed, so hopefully he won’t be walking in on anything permanently traumatizing.
Dustin taps gently, and when he doesn’t hear a response, he pushes the door wide enough to peek through. A smile spreads across his face.
Mike and Will are asleep, and, to put it charitably, curled on top of Mike’s twin bed. Actually, it’s a position Dustin used to see them in often, when he would wake up early at sleepovers and lean up to see Mike almost falling off the Wheeler’s sofa, desperately clutching Will in his sleep. When caught, the pair would hastily disentangle and blame a nightmare, which was believable, even if Dustin was never entirely sure it was always true. After a couple times, Dustin took pains to feign sleep, as did Lucas, until one of the two boys would gently shake the other awake and Mike would crawl back to the floor.
Now, at eighteen, Mike would absolutely be falling off the little bed, if he wasn’t completely fused to one Will Byers, limbs thrown over the other boy, holding tightly with his arms and, to Dustin’s amusement and mild embarrassment, legs. To Dustin’s greater relief, both boys are wearing the same clothes as the day prior, even if Mike’s arm does seem to be lost somewhere under Will’s tank top. Will is holding Mike too, though with less of a visible death grip, the taller boy tucked comically into Will’s broader chest, his hair against Will’s nose. From what Dustin can see, their faces are soft, still asleep, which makes him grin harder.
And Mike Wheeler is definitely asleep, both because he isn’t yelling at Dustin to fuck off and because Dustin can hear Mike’s snores even from the doorway. Poor Will has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.
Smiling, Dustin inches the door closed and returns to the phone.
“El?”
“Yes?”
“Bad news. Looks like Will has been attacked by an octopus, of the Wheeler genus and Michael species.”
“Really?” Dustin can hear the smile in El’s voice.
“Yeah, I just checked on them in Mike’s room and the only danger Will is in is that of being smothered.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Me too. Took for-fucking-ever. I’ve been listening to Mike whine since freshman year.”
“Tell me about it. Okay, you probably need to take some painkillers after last night, so I release you. Thank you, Dustin. You are a good friend.”
“You’re a good sister. And ex-girlfriend.” El’s laugh is sweet and light on the other end.
“You are correct. Talk to you later, Dustin.”
“Talk later El.” Then, sparked by a dim memory of last night, “Say hi to Dean for me.”
“I take it back: you are a bad friend.”
“Love you too!”
She just huffs and Dustin hangs up the phone, a snort escaping his nose. At peace, he resumes his journey to the kitchen and manages to groggily claw open the refrigerator. At last, his orange juice.
He picks up the carton and nearly hits himself in the face. It’s entirely empty.
“WHEELER!”