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Mike lets out a frustrated groan and stares at the glass containers in his hands.
This or that.
That or this.
He has half a mind to buy both of them, but he also knows that Will would absolutely kill him for spending money. Especially if he spends it to buy two different brands of the same thing.
No one ever told him that shopping for cocoa butter was gonna be this difficult. But then again, no one ever told him that he’d willingly get up at 6 in the morning to go grocery shopping all because he had the absolutely insane idea to make chocolates.
From scratch.
Yes, he’s regretting his decision, but only kind of. Yes, the ‘kind of’ is because Will promised he’d help Mike even though he had intended to do it alone as an attempt to make up for how he had completely fucked up yesterday with his stupid thoughts and his stupid withdrawal.
Will had said it was fine, but it’s decidedly not fine for Mike. Not after he messed up yesterday and was being a pathetic excuse of a human being and making Will worry for no reason. Honestly, he doesn’t know why Will even bothers to put up with him when-
Okay. Not going there, nope. Bad thoughts are a strict no-no today. He’s not going to fall for his mind’s cruel tactics. He’s going to decide on a brand of cocoa butter and he’s going to put it in his basket and he’s going to go to the cashier to pay for the stuff.
After that, he’s gonna make a pitstop at Kayla’s flower boutique to pick out a nice bunch of flowers to go along with the new vase that Joyce gifted them. Also, maybe he’ll pick out a separate flower for Will and surprise him with it.
Y’know, like boyfriends generally do. Also ‘cause he wants to. He wants so desperately to see Will turn into a blushing mess – giggling in that adorable way of his as Mike makes an attempt at cheesy pick-up lines. He wants to see Will smile at him with that characteristic twinkle in his eye.
The look of love, as Lucas had put it. He looks like you’re the only reason he’s still breathing, please kiss him so we can continue with the game, Mike.
And Mike had. Kissed him, that is. Kissed him so thoroughly that Lucas and Dustin had given up and gone upstairs to get some lasagna. Their game had not finished that night.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he frowns at the bottles. He peers at them closely, trying to figure out which one was better by sight alone.
“I’d take the smaller bottle if I were you, son.”
Mike whips his head up to look to his side. An elderly man stands beside him, peering at the various brands of vanilla extract. He turns to look at Mike through his beady eyes, and gives him a grin. “That one’s much better than the others. It’ll make better chocolate.”
Mike continues to stare at the man, unable to speak and he gives a low chuckle. “No need to be so surprised, son. You and your gal are making chocolates for Valentine’s amirite? Your first one, I’m guessing. So the smaller bottle is better. They’ve been around for much longer, ever since I was a wee boy. Me and my wife used the same one to make our first chocolate too.”
Mike forces a smile. “Me and…my girlfriend, yeah.” He says, and the words feel like ash in his mouth. He nods vigorously, trying to cover his hesitation. “Oh, yeah! It’s our first Valentine’s together.”
The man nods at him, looking pleased with himself. “You seem to be very supportive, eh? Going along with her idea. Most boys these days don’t wanna spend that time with their partners. It’s killing the romance, I’m tellin’ ya.”
Mike is pretty sure the smile on his face looks like a downright grimace, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he has a great need to correct the man. “Oh, no actually. This was my idea. She…uh is being very supportive of my impulses.”
The man raises his eyebrows and Mike curses his incapability to keep his mouth shut. He can almost hear his dad now – with that furrow to his brow and the slight frown on his lips. Glass of water held loosely in his hands, looking down at him disapprovingly.
That’s not very manly, Michael. Making chocolates in the kitchen. What, are you trying to become a woman? Are you trying to be like all those freaks out there?
“That’s…very considerate of you, my boy. Make sure to never change. It’s very important to treat a woman right. Keep her happy, and the house will always feel like home.”
Mike nods distractedly, desperately wishing that the man would go away so he can make his purchase in peace. “Yes, thank you.” He says, and he brushes past him towards the cash register.
Today is all about them. Mike and Will.
He’s not about to let old, conformative, opinionated assholes ruin this day for him.
When he arrives at the boutique, the sign at the door reads closed. He gets out of the car and slips in quietly, making sure no one sees him. Kayla is among some flowers, clearly still in deep thought about the flowers for the vase. Mike had told her over the phone that it wasn’t such a big deal, but she had insisted that only the right flowers can set the right mood, Michael. Shut up and let me handle this.
Weirdly, she reminds him of a much sweeter version of Max.
“Kayla? Are you done?” He asks, stepping further into the many rows of flowers, checking his watch to make sure he still had time. She gives him a fleeting glance and goes back to murmuring to herself as she examines the flowers.
“It’s the last one,” she complains, “I cannot find the right flower.”
“Well,” he says, even though he knows he’s going to be of absolutely no help, “what did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking safety.” She says, shifting to look at some carnations. “But I can’t find the right fit. None of these fit, if you know what I mean. They don’t complete the whole picture.”
“Well, what would complete the whole picture, then?”
She sends him a flat look. “That’s what I’m trying to find, Mike. Have some patience, Jeez.”
He rolls his eyes at her and wanders away to admire the flowers. They’re pretty this time of the day, fresh from their rest – basking in the early morning sun. He smiles softly, remembering Will’s first gift to him as his boyfriend.
A small square piece of painted canvas. A beautiful field filled with delicate, intricate looking flowers. Spreading outward like cotton – bright under the first rays of the sun. Mike doesn’t remember why, but the painting had made him cry. Something about the flowers had touched his heart – wrapped around him like a warm blanket, a secure promise of love.
Later, Will had told him. They represented sanctuary. Safety.
Wait. That’s it, right?
“What about Queen Anne’s lace?” He asks suddenly.
Kayla turns around to look at him – surprised. “Queen Anne’s lace? I guess we have some of those, but…yeah, wait. Let me see.”
She gets up and sprints to the very back. Mike follows her eagerly.
They come to a stop before what looks like an entire field of the flowers – delicate, beautiful works of art. Small flowers that pack together to form the most breathtaking patterns. Kayla exhales like the breath has been punched out of her, and there’s a distinct gleam to her eyes.
“Michael Wheeler.” She says, “I think you just found the perfect flower.”
Mike chooses a bouquet of red pansies (with some guidance from Kayla) to surprise Will with. Pansies, apparently, say think of me. And red pansies especially, represent deep, romantic – passionate – love. Mike can’t think of a better choice. He’s careful to not crush the bouquets as he sets them down in the seat beside him, and waves a cheerful goodbye to Kayla.
By the time he gets home, it’s well past 11 and Will is sitting on the floor surrounded by various cookbooks.
“You won’t find much in there. My mom made me pack those, and we all know what a health freak she is.”
Will frowns at him, instantly jumping to defend Karen. “No, she’s not. And these are actually really useful.” He says, waving one around. Mike huffs and sets the grocery bag down by the kitchen counter. He takes out the bouquet for the vase from the bag, leaving the other one inside.
“I got this to put in the vase your mom sent.” He tells him, and Will looks surprised for a second before he scrambles up to get it from its place on the window sill.
“Let’s see,” he says, peering at the flowers once Mike has arranged them in the vase. “We’ve got daisies, tulips and irises and- oh.” Will looks at the tight cluster of Queen Anne’s laces in the middle. He looks up at him, lips curving into a soft, knowing smile – eyes alight with joy.
“You remembered.” he breathes, bringing his hand up to run the tips of his fingers lightly over the flowers.
“Sanctuary.” Mike says, because he’s nothing if not a sap. “You’re my sanctuary.”
Color rises high on Will’s cheeks, painting them a pleasant shade of vibrant red. Mike grins at him – a teasing edge to his smile. Will puts his fingers to Mike’s chest and shoves him hard. He grabs the vase from his hands and moves away to return it to its place while Mike sags against the counter, one hand pressed against his chest – right over his heart where Will had shoved him – and the other thrown dramatically over his forehead.
“My heart!” He whined, exaggerating his struggle to stand up straight. “I have been wounded over my heart. And what is more? It is my very own beloved that has committed this crime! The travesty! The deceit! You told me you loved me and now-”
Will strides across the room to him, and shuts him up by sealing their lips together in a fiery kiss. It’s intense in the best way – Will is demanding, passionate. Gripping Mike’s shirt, twisting the fabric as he grabs him hard.
Mike makes a low whine at the back of his throat as Will crowds him further – pushing him backward, pressing him against the kitchen counter.
He drags his tongue across Mike’s bottom lip and he gasps. Will takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
He licks into his mouth, tongue dragging against Mike’s, ghosting over his teeth. Will’s hands twist into his hair, and he pulls and the sound that escapes from Mike is embarrassing but he has no time to register that embarrassment.
Not when Will pulls back only to crash their mouths back together. He’s biting at Mike’s lower lip – nibbling and pulling, making Mike gasp into his mouth like a starving man that just found water. He runs his tongue over it to soothe the sting of the bite, and then he breaks the kiss to mouth along his jaw.
Will presses featherlight kisses along his jawline before nestling his face against Mike’s neck – breathing him in.
“Will-” Mike gasps, breath coming out in short bursts. His chest heaves like he just ran a marathon. Will nods against his neck, the movement sending a shiver skittering down his spine.
“We should- we should start making the chocolates.” He says, and Will nods again. He presses his lips against Mike’s neck and pulls back. His eyes are blown wide, lips pink and swollen. He looks very kissed.
Mike no doubt looks worse.
They stare at each other for a few seconds before Will makes a jerky motion towards the grocery bag, and Mike snaps out of the trance. They giggle awkwardly as he hauls the bag back onto the counter, spilling its contents in the process. Will gives him a fond look that Mike’s sure was supposed to be exasperation, and he can’t help but send him a shy grin in response.
They sort through the stuff they need for now – the cookbook open in front of them to cross-check. Mike’s not sure if the recipe in that thing would even be successful, but Will seems to think it will so he decides to trust the process.
“Alright!” Says Will, clapping his hands enthusiastically, “Let’s get started. We need cocoa butter, cocoa powder-”
“Unsweetened.” Mike interrupts, because that’s what the cookbook says. Will narrows his eyes at him playfully.
“Unsweetened cocoa powder. We also need powdered sugar and vanilla extract.”
“And,” Mike says, holding up the salt shaker. “A pinch of salt.”
Will points at him as though he just found a solution for world hunger. Mike grins back at him – heart beating an unsteady rhythm in his chest. He can hear it pounding away, the excitement for what they’re about to do rushing through his veins like a zap of adrenaline.
Will fishes out a large saucepan while Mike rummages around for the only heatproof bowl they have. They fill the saucepan with water and set it over the stove, waiting for it to reach a slow boil before carefully placing the bowl over it.
“Don’t let it touch the water.” Will whispers, his eyes skimming over the recipe page in the cookbook.
“Okay.” Mike whispers back.
It feels stupid to talk so quietly in the house when it’s quiet literally their house, and they’re the only ones who live here. But Mike will do anything that Will does.
So he loves his boyfriend very much. Sue him.
“Okay…” Will says, making sure the bowl is balanced carefully and not touching the now boiling water. “Add in the cocoa butter.”
“All of it?” Mike asks, twisting the lid off the bottle. Will turns to look at it, brows scrunched in thought before he shrugs.
“It didn’t specify. So add all of it, I guess?”
Mike nods and carefully dumps the entire contents of the container into the bowl. The butter makes a weird sizzling noise as it hits the metal and promptly begins to melt – bits of it sticking to the bowl and rapidly turning into a charred mess.
“Uh-” says Mike, alarmed, “is it supposed to be doing that? Will-”
Will yanks out a spatula from the metal stand on the counter and sticks it into the rapidly melting butter, stirring it gently. It makes more sizzling noises and Mike fumbles to turn down the heat.
It’s a tense few seconds before the sizzling settles down. A rich, sweet aroma rises into the air – filling the room with the smell of chocolate. It’s intense and thick and it makes Mike want to taste the air. Will breathes it in over the bowl and lets out a pleased little sigh.
“God, I hope the final chocolate actually tastes this good.”
Mike hums in agreement, already reaching for the cocoa powder. He hands the bottle to Will who holds a sieve over the bowl to sift it in. Mike takes the spatula from him, gently stirring the butter and the cocoa powder together trying to achieve the smooth and glossy texture that the cookbook says they need.
Once all of the cocoa powder is added in, Will sets the bowl aside and grabs the spatula handle to stir. Mike’s brain short-circuits for just a moment before he shifts his hand so his fingers are wrapped around Will’s.
He looks up at him, confused and Mike gives him a sweet smile and a lingering kiss. “We can stir together. That way, we’ll both be making the chocolate.”
Will muffles his squeal against Mike’s neck. “God,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion, “you have to stop saying things like that. One of these days, I will get a heart attack.”
Mike laughs and turns his head so his lips brush against Will’s hair. He presses his lips against the silky brown locks before turning his attention back to the stirring.
“Powdered sugar, a pinch of salt and vanilla extract.” He informs Will, handing him each of the items with his free hand.
“What next?” Will asks, and Mike does an excited little hop as he reads the next pointer in the book. “Eat it!” He says, gesturing excitedly at Will.
He raises an amused eyebrow at him, “Eat it? Is that what it says, Michael?” he teases, reaching for the cookbook. Mike moves it away from him, laughing lightly.
“Believe it or not, William, it says here ‘eat the chocolate you have made with so much love, care and affection. Happy Valentine’s!’”
Will rolls his eyes, his lips twitching upward into a smile. “No it doesn’t, you idiot. Now tell me what it really says or give it here so I can read it for myself.”
Mike sticks his tongue out at him petulantly and holds the book high above his head in an attempt to get it as far away from Will as possible. Will narrows his eyes at him, “That’s not fair! Using your height as an advantage is cheating.”
“What’s that?” Mike asks, feigning innocence. “Are you admitting that I’m taller than you?”
Will makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and swings his hands up to grab at the book. Mike simply extends his hands so it’s higher up. Will pulls back to narrow his eyes at him. “This.” He says, pointing at him. “This is cheating. You’re clearly breaking the rules, Wheeler.”
Mike smirks, lifting the cookbook even higher. “Are you admitting that you’re short, Byers?”
Will’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, I’ll show you.”
That’s all the warning Mike get before Will’s hands are fisting into his shirt again and he’s yanking him down. One hand twists into his hair to yank his head back – exposing his neck. Mike barely has time to register what’s happening before Will’s lips are on his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat.
Will bites at the sensitive skin – pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it before releasing it. He swirls his tongue over the spot and Mike’s knees go absolutely liquid.
Listen, Mike is a weak, weak man when it comes to his boyfriend, okay? And it doesn’t help the fact that Will is fucking hot when he takes control. The cookbook slips from his fingers and falls to the ground with a dull thud.
Will continues to kiss down his neck, and soon enough, Mike’s breathing turns ragged. He grips the edge of the counter to keep himself steady as Will’s teeth graze against the soft, sensitive skin at the base of his throat. He sucks on the skin again and Mike lets out a choked out gasp. He lets go of the spatula to anchor himself against Will – hand twisting into the front of his shirt.
Will’s tongue swipes against the skin there. Once, twice, before he returns, kissing his way up his throat, coming back to the spot from before. He grazes his teeth against it and bites lightly eliciting another high keening sound from Mike.
“Will-” Mike gasps out, fingers twisting into the fabric of Will’s shirt. “Will, please. Please-”
He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but he’s far past the point of consideration. The only thing he can think of is Will’s hand in his hair and Will’s mouth on his neck and the pure and absolute want coursing through his veins.
There is a low, warning sizzle from the chocolate in the bowl and Will pulls away to switch the stove off. Mike is left reeling – one hand still clutching at the edge of the counter and the other coming up to touch lightly at the sensitive skin of his neck.
He’s sure it’s going to bruise in a few hours if it hasn’t already. He narrows his eyes at Will who grabs the bowl by the sides and lifts it down onto the table beside them.
“You-” he begins, and Will turns around, eyes bright and a cocky smile on his lips.
“Hmm? I what, Mike?”
“You- you…you little- you-” Mike splutters, blushing furiously. Finally, he points a shaking finger at Will. “Count your days, Byers. I’ll have my revenge.”
“Meee?” Will asks, blinking his eyes at him innocently, and Mike’s pathetic resolve breaks and crumbles and turns into ash.
“Yes, you.” He says because Will doesn’t need to know just how weak Mike is for him. That smug little bastard. He’d take so much advantage of that.
Later, after they’ve poured the chocolate into the moulds and shoved it into the freezer, after they’ve finished arguing about whose turn it is to check on its progress, after they’ve finished plucking out a few pieces of chocolates and tasting them – moaning at the heavenly taste and the rich texture and how this was definitely one of their better ideas – they lay in bed together, staring up at the ceiling.
“Today was good.” Mike says, and he means it. Really means it. Today went really well. No negative thoughts and no bad feelings. Today had been all about them – their banter, their surprises and their love.
Will hums in agreement, throwing his arm around Mike and snuggling closer to him, resting his head against Mike’s chest.
Mike wishes and wishes and wishes that the rest of their life could be like this too. That they would never have to be sad, or get upset or fight. That they’d never have to be too mad at each other, or god forbid, separate. Break up.
Mike shivers at the very thought and wraps his arms around Will, pulling him in tighter. He buries his face in his silky strands and inhales deeply, reassuring himself.
Will is here and so is Mike. Today was good and so will be tomorrow and the day after and all the years to come.
They’ll be fine. They’ll be together.
His fingers brush against the cold band of the matching bracelets Will got them and he traces the quiet promise engraved into the inner side.
Crazy together.
Mike closes his eyes and exhales in a deep long breath. For as long as he can remember, it’s always been them.
Mike and Will. Will and Mike.
Crazy together. They’ll pull through.
They’ll be fine.