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The inside of the van felt like an oven slow-roasting Will alive. The open windows did little to help cool him down, the air hot and dry and nothing like the humidity he was used to back in Hawkins. It collected in the back of the van where Will sat next to Mike, the air stagnating and leaving him panting with each breath. Although his harsh breaths could also be due in part to the adrenaline leftover from their frenzied departure from Lenora.
Every bump in the road that jostled him had him shifting in discomfort, his clothing chafing against his sensitive skin. It had been over half a year since they'd moved to California and Will still wasn't used to the change in climate, still in the habit of wearing too many layers. He wasn't sure how the others weren't cooking alive with him but if the heat was bothering them just as much as it did him they did a good job of not showing it.
It felt like the heat wave had rolled in with Mike's arrival earlier in the week. Will felt like he could pin point the exact start of it, when he and Mike had shared that embarrassingly awkward hug at the airport.
He knew that was impossible, that Mike couldn't have any sort of effect on the weather, that it was more likely that Will was just flushed with excitement and nervous anticipation (and uncomfortably strong affection for the boy that had haunted his every thought while they were apart.) It had, after all, been months since he'd seen his best friend and he was curious to see if Mike had changed just as much as Will had.
Had Mike thought of Will during their time apart? Or was he alone in his longing? The lack of letters or phone calls didn't bode well, but Will couldn't help the hope that smoldered inside him. It was the longest they'd ever been apart. If the fight they had last summer hadn't destroyed their friendship then surely this distance wouldn't either.
The hug they had shared when they'd said their goodbyes in Hawkins had kept Will fueled even on his loneliest days, had been the kindling for the feelings growing in his heart. So when they had been reunited at the airport, and Will had reached out with both arms for that same all encompassing embrace only to be met with an awkward stutter and a one-armed sad excuse for a hug from Mike, he couldn't help the flicker of shame that ignited inside of him, the comforting warmth of his feelings shifting into the burn of humiliation.
He'd been burning ever since.
When not even a moment later Mike had lifted El in a hug and spun her around, their scents light and sunny as they mixed, Will felt the smoldering burn of envy. (As well as little sparks of hurt when he tried his damnedest to ignore the stack of letters she'd received from Mike while he himself had gone without.)
When Mike had followed Will into his room with an ease that came with a decade long friendship; when he sat on Will's bed, near the meager excuse for a replacement nest that Will had made, the sheets saturated with the very essence of Will's scent and transferring onto Mike, the banking coals of Will's hearts desire were stoked and rekindled. When Will had to turn away lest he start to purr at the sight of Mike smiling soft and sweet at him from where he sat, so reminiscent of the boy he'd left in Hawkins that the flames of his love threatened to over take him and burn him from the inside out.
And later, when they'd gone to Rink-o-mania, and Mike had skated around with El, their heads bent close and giggling at inside jokes that Will wasn't privy to; when he'd catch one of them looking his way before resuming their secretive whispering; when El had snapped and attacked Angela with a skate and everything had gone to shit and Mike had looked at Will with accusation. Will had burned and burned and burned until the core of him went white hot like a supernova.
They'd returned home, Mike trying to hatch a plan to get El back, and all Will could think was how he'd disappointed the other boy somehow. He'd known about Angela but not that her antics had progressed to the bullying he'd seen today. If anything, El should've confided in Mike about it, especially with how much they talked. It wasn't Will that spoke with Mike on the phone every week or got letters or whispered secrets back and forth.
Yet something in Will felt miserable and like he'd failed, and his mind raced with ways he could fix the situation and have Mike's smile aimed in his direction again.
Will's skin felt tight, the stress obviously getting to him, and it only got worse as they were shot at and made their frantic escape.
They left with just the clothes on their back and the innocuous poster tube held in Will's grasp. He gripped it tight, wringing it between his hands as the rest of the group contemplated their next move. Will thought of the tubes contents, a painting he'd been working on for Mike over the course of the last few weeks. It was meant to be a gift but he no longer knew if he would give it to the other boy. The painting made him feel glaringly obvious in his feelings, like an accusation of his one-sided pining made corporeal.
His senses grew more overwhelmed the further they drove, until he couldn't take it any longer. With a glance towards his brother and Argyle to make sure they were distracted, Will handed the tube over to Mike. He was drenched in nervous sweat, shaking with it, but he needed to fix this, needed to please Alpha.
Mike pulled out the poster, unrolling it and digesting its contents. His scent bloomed, swirling around Will with the breeze from the window, encompassing him with its nostalgic notes of cedar and sunshine. That was, until Will opened his mouth and gave his confession under the guise of El's feelings. Mike's smile slowly fell, his expression growing confused, a small frown deepening on his face the longer Will spoke. His scent grew smokey like charred wood after a forest fire as Will called him the heart, told him he was what held the party together, as he assured him that he made El feel better for being different.
"El needs you, Mike," he told his friend, even as the words were daggers in his throat, "and she always will."
Will turned away, looking out the window of the van, his face scrunched as he held back sobs. He shivered on the bench beside Mike, drenched in sweat as it dripped down his back and pooled in the crevices of his body, waves of heat consuming him until he felt icy cold. He didn't know what he was doing wrong, didn't know how to fix this. Isn't this what Mike wanted to hear? Didn't he love El?
Will wiped at his brow, his hand sliding down to rub at his neck in a nervous tick, when his hand smeared through something more viscous than sweat. His body locked up, the realization hitting him all at once exactly what it was that was happening to him.
This wasn't just some unseasonably warm weather. It wasn't just nerves, although the stress was most likely what had kickstarted it. This was heat, his first heat. And it was happening during what was probably the worst possible moment of his life.
Will tried to subtly wipe off the oily substance that was seeping from his scent gland with the collar of his shirt, trying to soak it up where it was coating his neck. The press of the flannel against the sensitive skin of his gland felt like fiberglass being rubbed against him and he couldn't help the sharp inhalation nor the his of pain that escaped his mouth.
"Will?" Mike asked, his attention shifting from the painting to look at Will. No, no, no, don't look. "What's wrong?"
Will kept his face hidden as the tears that were pooling in his eyes threatened to fall. His hand covered his neck, concealing his shame.
"N-nothing," he choked out. "Just. You make me feel better, too. For being different. Sorry, I'm getting a little emotional." Will tried to laugh it off, but his heart wasn't in it, his voice too raw.
'Please, don't look too close,' he prayed.
"It doesn't sound like nothing," Mike said, although the bitterness of his scent eased at Will's admission. "Will. Will look at me."
Mike reached out, his hand landing on Will's shoulder, his grip gentle but causing Will to jerk away in pain while simultaneously wanting to bare his neck. His stomach clenched with a sharp cramp. Everything was just too much.
"What-Will, you're boiling hot," Mike stated, his voice too loud in the van. He straightened up in concern, carefully putting away the painting before turning his full attention on Will.
"What's going on?" called Jonathan from the drivers seat.
"I-i don't know, something's wrong with Will," Mike called back. He leaned close, putting a hand to the side of Will's face. It was cool against Will's cheek and he couldn't help but lean into it, seeking relief. "He's burning up."
"Will?" yelled Jonathan. "Shit," he cursed, when all Will could muster was a weak sound in return.
Will grabbed Mike's hand and pressed it closer to his cheek, his need for comfort overwriting what self consciousness he had. Mike's large palm and long fingers spanned the length of Will's jaw to above his temple. Will nuzzled into it, turning away from the window in an effort to get closer, his neck inadvertently brushing the scent gland on Mike's inner wrist and spreading his oil against it.
Alpha was here. Alpha would take care of him.
"Mike," Jonathan said, voice stern, "cover your mouth and nose."
"What? Why? What's happening?"
"Just do it," Jonathan demanded. "Find something to put around your face, and hurry."
"Tell me what's going on," Mike retorted, even as he listened to the older boy and looked around the van, finding a bandana on the floor. Mike had to pull his hand out of Will's grip, eliciting a whine from his friend, so he could tie the bandana around his head. It wasn't perfect and it smelled a little funky but it would work. Doing so brought his marked wrist close to his nose and Mike choked as he was hit with the scent, warm and spicy like cinnamon and brown sugar while also sweet and tart like ripe berries. His mouth instantly pooled with saliva, his gums itching around his canines, and he held his breath as he finished tying the bandana.
Jonathan watched him through the rearview mirror, waiting until the bandana was secure. His eyes darted to Will then back again. "Will's an omega, Mike. In case you forgot."
"What does that have to do with…oh. Oh." Mike's face blushed to the roots of his hair. "Are you sure I can be back here?" he asked, voice hesitant and slurring slightly where his secondary fangs were extending.
"Will trusts you. I trust you." Jon said pointedly, like this information wasn't blowing Mike's mind. "Besides, I'm pretty sure this is his first heat. He's just going to be extra cuddly and a lot more sensitive than normal. And we really don't have time to stop, we've gotta get to El asap."
"You got this, brochacho," Argyle told him enthusiastically, turning around in the passenger seat. He held out his fist with his thumb and pinky extended, shaking it in a 'hang loose' gesture. "I believe in you, baby alpha."
Jonathan rolled his eyes but smiled. "You can do this, Mike. What was it Will said? You're the heart." Mike flushed even redder at the reminder of Will's words.
Okay. Okay. He could do this. Mike looked to the two up front. Their attention was back on the road, which helped ease the self consciousness Mike was feeling. He turned his focus on Will beside him. His eyes were half lidded, nearly closed, his skin glistening with sweat and glowing red. He looked miserable and exhausted and it made Mike's heart clench in sympathy.
He couldn't imagine what Will was going through. His own ruts mostly consisted of isolating himself, pacing around his room, binge-eating and then sleeping the rest of the time. This, however, looked borderline painful. The urge to pull Will close, to hold him and croon softly to the omega was strong.
So that was what he did. Jonathan said he trusted him to take care of Will and who was Mike to refuse him? He'd been taking care of Will since they were pups, and although he might've lost his way over the last few years, it was time for him to rectify that mistake.
He reached out for Will, gently maneuvering him as Mike sat sideways on the bench, his back against the wall of the van. He set one foot on the ground and stretched the other leg out to create a space for Will to curl up against him. Mike wasn't entirely sure that he was doing this right, was moving entirely on instinct and hoping the alpha in him knew what to do.
Will followed him willingly, his movements stiff and shaky. He practically fell into Mike's lap with a low whimper that quickly morphed into a pur when Mike carded his fingers through his sweat damp hair. Will was curled in his lap, one of Mike's arms wrapped around his shoulders, Will's head resting just under Mike's chin with his face pressed against Mike's neck. His quick short breaths tickled Mike's neck, his open mouth resting on Mike's skin like he was trying to devour his scent with every inhalation. Mike was glad for the bandana even if it only slightly mitigated Will's scent, because at least it covered his mouth and prevented him from doing something stupid, like craning forward and pressing his teeth to the long lean line of Will's throat.
Mike shook his head to dismiss the intrusive thoughts. Will, he was here to comfort Will. He needed to distract himself, lest his baser instincts get the best of him. So he did what he did best. He started to talk. It seemed he and Will still weren't on the same page, and while Mike knew it was his fault for avoiding the confrontation he also couldn't let Will suffer because of his own cowardice any longer.
His tongue licked over his teeth as he contemplated his words. There seemed to be no easy way to start, to tear off the metaphorical bandage on the wound he left last summer.
"You know," Mike started, voice low but firm, "I've been an airhead lately, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid, Will. El didn't commission the painting, did she?" He felt Will go still in his arms, holding his breath. So he had some awareness of what Mike was saying. Good. He didn't want to have to say all this again, wanted to clear the air and fix the mess between them. "When you said I help you, too, everything you said about how El felt, it was you right? I help you even though you feel different. Please say it was you…because if it wasn't you then I'll be losing two friends today." Mike's voice was quiet and tinged with pain. He laughed bitterly even as he held Will tight, rubbing his shoulder soothingly as he shivered in Mike's arms. "You said I'm the heart, but that's not completely true. Not in my eyes. It's you, Will. You're the one that keeps the party together. You're the true heart, or at least, you're my heart."
Mike smiles sweetly, pressing his mouth to the crown of Will's head. It's terrifying to finally speak his truth but he's giddy with the weight of it starting to lift off of him. Will's scent that had been souring like overripe berries eased, hope blooming from within it, and it gave Mike the strength to carry on.
"El and I have been talking a lot. I know that's probably been obvious, but it's not what you think. She has so many questions now that she gets to live like a normal kid, and I've been helping her. I was her first friend, you know? I'm a little hurt that she didn't tell me about the bullying or how bad it was, as if I don't have first hand experience with bullies. You can bet I'm not gonna let her off about hiding it from me. After all, friends don't lie," Mike laughs, a bit self-deprecatingly. "At least, that's what she said to me after she asked me about my feelings for you and I told her we were just friends."
Will froze, a confused whine slipping out in lieu of the question Mike knew he probably wanted to ask.
"El and I never got back together after last summer," Mike explained simply like he wasn't blowing Will's mind. "We work better as friends. And she's been a good one, especially after having to deal with me talking her ear off about you all these months." Mike sighed. "I know I haven't been a good friend to you, not for a long time."
Will pushed himself up from Mike's chest, his eyes foggy with pain but full of protest. Always quick to Mike's defense, even though Mike thought it was undeserved in this case.
"I hurt you, Will, and I'm sorry," Mike told him earnestly. He held Will's gaze pointedly even as he felt the urge to shy away. He couldn't be scared; this was too important, and he had to make sure Will understood how serious he was. Will's eyes swam with tears, his long lashes sticking together and framing the pretty hazel shade of his irises. It hurt to make Will cry but he knew these tears were different from the ones he'd caused last summer; tears of relief rather than betrayal.
Mike reached up, cupping Will's face between both hands and wiping away his tears. Will gripped his wrists, needing something to hold onto, to ground him. Their foreheads pressed together, Will scrunching his eyes shut as more tears spilled down his cheeks. Mike knew he probably looked like a lunatic under his face covering, his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling.
"I tried to give you space, but I can tell I messed that up, too. I was waiting for you to call me, Will, to write, anything. But I know I should've made the first move. I'm making up for it now, okay?" Will nodded against him, his smile wobbly, and Mike couldn't help himself from nuzzling his nose gently against Will's through his mask. "I know the timing is shit." A giggle shocked its way out of Will, and Mike glowed with the knowledge that he could still make Will laugh even in the midst of the mess they were in. "But once this is over, after we find El, after your heat…once we get back to Hawkins, we're going to figure everything out. Okay?"
Will nodded again, slow and tired and worn. Mike pulled him back down to his chest so he could curl back up and rest now that his earlier distress was gone.
"You're my best friend, Will," Mike told him, "but you're also more. You're so much more."
Will hummed against his neck, nose pressed in tight again, breathing in his alpha's soothing scent. His heat was in full swing, now that he felt safe and secure.
Mike held him in the protective circle of his arms, guarding him in his weakened state, vowing to never let anything hurt Will again. His duty was to keep Will safe, now that the air was cleared between them. They could talk more later.