Mike kissing Will's moles
When it happens, it’s not something that Mike plans - it just sort of happens before he realizes it’s happening.
It’s like this: Mike is holding a comic book above his head, just out of Will’s reach. It’s something he does often these days - teasing Will lightheartedly about their increasing height difference, because he’s not really sure how else to deal with the way his heart can’t seem to keep steady in his chest when he’s next to Will. Will never minds it, though; he’s laughing as he stretches up, attempting to grab the book from Mike’s grasp.
They scuffle playfully for a moment before Mike grabs hold of Will’s wrist and, instead of pushing his arm away as he intends to, he pulls Will closer and presses his lips to the inside of Will’s wrist, right against the mole that sits against the thin skin there. He doesn’t realize it’s happening until he’s already pulling away, Will’s skin a tangible memory against his lips.
Will’s eyes widen and his laughter catches in his throat, coming out as a startled sort of gasp instead.
“I -,” Mike starts to say, but he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. He drops Will’s wrist from his grasp. His palms are sweating.
“Mike,” Will says. He takes a step closer and Mike feels dizzy.
“Yeah?” Mike whispers out.
Will steps closer still, standing up on his tiptoes and looking directly at Mike with eyes that are clear and bright and just slightly unsure. Mike finds that his eyes flutter closed without his permission, and he can feel Will’s breath against the sharp of his jaw, warm and pleasant in the cool air of Mike’s basement.
It’s then that Will reaches up and snatches the comic book out of Mike’s slackened hand with ease, a satisfied laugh cascading from between his lips.
“Got it!” he declares, stepping back just a bit and clutching the book in his fist triumphantly.
Mike opens his eyes and tries to laugh too, but the sound gets stuck somewhere in his throat and the only noise he manages to make is some sort of strangled sigh.
“Guess you win,” he says after a beat, and wonders what it means that Will’s smile goes a little softer, that he steps closer to Mike once more, shoving the rolled up comic book into his jacket pocket like it doesn’t really matter.
“Guess so,” Will replies absently.
He reaches up with a hand that hesitates only slightly, brushes his thumb over the ridge of Mike’s cheekbone, across the line of freckles that live there like a star system littered over warm, pale skin.
And this moment is not the first time that Mike notices the moles at the hollow of Will’s throat, or the one sitting just above the line of Will’s lips - far from it, in fact; he’s noticed them plenty of times - when Will laughs cheerfully with his head thrown back against Mike’s shoulder as they watch a movie together, when he smiles his almost-shy smile as Mike catches his eye from across the lunch table - there’s rarely a time that he’s not noticed them.
But it is the first time that Mike presses his nervous, shaking fingers softly against the skin of Will’s neck, resting there as if to measure if Will’s pulse is racing just as frantically as his own (it is), and it’s absolutely the first time that he leans down and kisses that single mole above his lips - short and sweet and just the slightest bit awkward.
Will giggles happily and starts to say, “you missed,” in a playful sort of voice, but Mike moves down those last few centimeters and cuts him off with a kiss to the lips that shuts him up and distracts him just long enough for Mike to pluck the comic from Will’s pocket.
He pulls back with a mischievous grin and says, “you lose,” in a childish little sing-song voice, bopping will lightly on the nose with the rolled up paper.
Will’s smile doesn’t falter in the slightest as he says, “doesn’t feel like it.”
As Mike grabs Will’s arm and leads him toward the nearby chairs (they do, after all, actually want to read the comic at some point), he rubs his thumb softly over the mole there and can’t, for all the world, keep the smile off of his face.