I just wanted to share this scene with you guys, cause this is peak two nerds negotiating intimacy in 1989 situation. I made it funny and awkward on purpose.
So the premise is Will asks to go “all the way” Mike decides to be “responsible” a set a Session Zero to talk about it. He orders a postal loan from Elmer Holmes Bobst library for a book, but Carter, his stupid group-mate from Biology, that works as a library assistant, decides to “help” and sends the wrong one… hilarity ensues.
Session Zero
It was one morning before class that the whole Session Zero suggestion came to bite Mike in the ass with extreme force.
Neither of them had their first lecture that day, so they decided to get some BECs and have a lazy coffee in their kitchen. Mike sat at the Formica table, watching the moka pot on the stove like a hawk, trying to prove to Will that he was adult enough to make coffee in his odd little flea market contraption without supervision. He managed to turn the knob just in time to stop it from overboiling when Will came into their apartment, dusting snow off his shoulders and stomping his boots on the rag, spread in the hall.
“I got mail on the way from Tito Oscar’s,” Will said, passing Mike his sandwich, still hot through the aluminium foil. “They have new pickles with mustard seeds. I hope it's okay.”
“Uh, yeah,” Mike said, trying to see the contents through melted cheese. “Crinkle cut?”
“Do you think I’m a philistine, Michael? Of course, crinkle cut,” Will said in fake outrage, taking a bite out of his bun.
Mike noticed that Will had also added pickles to his BEC, which made him feel awfully warm for some reason. Mike had read a foodie newspaper column suggesting gherkins or relish as a good way to cut through bacon grease and balance the flavour, and he’d wanted to try it ever since. After that, Mike had been completely converted; he still preferred the crinkle cut as a superior pickle shape and was secretly glad that Will agreed.
“And there’s a package for you from Bobst,” Will said, pointing towards a thick rectangular Jiffy bag. “They do deliveries to undergrads now?”
“Oh, right,” Mike stirred at the table, suddenly nervous about what was inside. “I— uh may have pulled a favour with this one…”
“Who’d you ask—“
“Casanova Carter,” Mike replied reluctantly
Will’s eyebrows shot up. “The guy who called you a slur?“
“Will, he actually said sorry,” Mike explained. “Out of the blue— I thought I misheard it first.”
Carter was still a complete idiot, but he had apologised, called himself a douchebag, and even asked if Mike was okay. So Mike thought, against all odds, that he might be useful in sending something Mike would’ve committed seppuku before bringing to the circulation desk in person.
“Wow, whaddya know,” Will deadpanned, not entirely convinced. “So what’s the book for?”
Mike felt his face heat up. It was the same hardback he’d discovered during his field research back in early November, ‘The Joy of Gay Sex’.
“Uh, I wanted to show it to you,” he said very quietly. “It’s for… um, Session Zero.”
“Speak up, Wheeler, I can barely hear you—“ Will chuckled, making Mike even more nervous.
“Session Zero,” he blurted louder, snatching the envelope to busy his hands.
“Oh…” Will said, completely serious.
“Yeah,” Mike exhaled, opening the Jiffy bag.
He had only given Carter the Dewey number and the author’s last name, hoping that he, as a library assistant, would understand the rest. What he saw on the dust jacket, instead of the book he’d ordered, was a picture of a man with the seventies beard and porn-moustache making out disgustingly with a woman with a similar dated hairstyle. Inside the library slip, usually used to mark the loan return date, there was a scribbled note that said: “Good luck, Wheeler!” with a winky face.
“Aw, shit,” Mike groaned, trying to hide the illustration on the cover with both of his hands. “Carter, that moron—“
Will pried his fingers to peek at the book curiously and couldn’t suppress a short, sarcastic laugh. “Jesus… Welp, he apologised alright.”
“Kill me,” Mike pleaded, hanging his head low.
That dumbass must’ve heard the multiple girlfriends from the Art Department rumour, which had been spreading around about Mike recently, and thought he was helping a fellow ladies' man.
“Hey, let’s see what normies are up to—“ Will said, snatching the cursed book away from Mike’s shaky hands and leafing through it with fascination. “Heh, this illustrator sucks. I mean, I can probably draw a better naked woman, and I’m not… the target audience,” Will opened a random page showing a woman straddling a man with her head tilted back in exaggerated moan. “And look at this dick, Mike, that’s pathetic, really.”
“Yeah, that’s actually… yeah,” Mike babbled, averting his eyes from Will’s finger pointing towards a drawn penis on the page, with a woman opening her lipsticked mouth over it. He wondered if he’d ever looked like that as well. “Also, you have drawn a better naked woman, which is kinda unfair. I bet you’ve seen more naked women than Carter, too.”
“Probably,” Will answered casually.
“How many?” Mike asked in morbid fascination.
“What about you?” Will shot back quickly.
Mike couldn’t tell Will that the only naked women he saw were in a smuggled magazine Lucas had shown him against his will. He couldn’t tell him about the International Male catalogue, which had been an absolute revelation. He couldn’t tell him about the fact that every time he had looked at the brown-haired, tanned men advertising swimwear, he thought of Will’s thighs under the Californian sun.
“Uh, I asked first,” Mike stammered, treacherous blush creeping down his neck.
“Five,” Will said simply.
“Jesus,” Mike exhaled; he definitely didn’t expect that answer.
“For drawing, Mike,” Will snickered. “Some of them were quite old. It’s Art School.”
Mike remembered Will saying something about wrinkles and saggy skin being cool to shade, and the fact that Will had drawn someone’s nude aunt or grandma bizarrely reassured him.
“A Gourmet Guide to Lovemaking,” Will read the second title off the cover ceremoniously.
“Ugh,” Mike made a face, “It sounds like something middle-aged Steve Harrington would read or write or both.”
“Don’t tell me,” Will huffed, rolling his eyes. “I still remember him trying to translate his ‘how to score chicks’ pointers to work on guys for me at the prom. What was he thinking?”
“He was probably drunk,” Mike offered with a sympathetic smile, realising he hadn’t been the only one subjected to Steve’s unsolicited advice.
Will giggled at that, his eyes darting around the table of contents for some new embarrassing thing to read out loud.
“Eh, apparently what we’ve been doing is called ‘appetisers’—“ Will said, barely holding a laugh. “Hmm, I wonder… Was it more like pigs in a blanket or devilled eggs?”
“Will— “ Mike groaned in indignation.
If he were to even compare it to food, it would be foie gras or black caviar or truffles or something, not pigs in the fucking blanket.
“Well, I wasn’t hungry afterwards, were you?” Will asked quietly.
“Hell, no,” Mike answered decisively and noticed Will duck his head a little to hide behind the book.
“Oh my God, sauces and pickles…” Will chuckled, making Mike put his sandwich down entirely. The poor pickles didn’t deserve it. “I wonder if they have a dessert menu too—“
“Will, close the goddamn book!” Mike muttered, hiding his burning face in his hands. His breakfast had completely fallen victim to a sex guide.
They both managed to finish their bodega sandwiches in peace, Will mercifully, pushing the book to the side and pouring them each some moka pot coffee. Then he went to the living room to bring his bag and took out some zines, xeroxed on colourful print paper, and a few of ARC-made pamphlets, one of which was titled ‘Pleasure for Punks, Pansies and Perverts’.
“Alright, Professor Wheeler,” Will snickered, passing the stack to Mike. “Time to compare reading materials. Pick your poison: I got them from the ARC Independent Library.” He pointed at the edition of ‘Pansy Beat’, “This one has Rae’s column about dental dams, too. But you prefer it ‘au naturel’… when you… well, you know— ask me if I took a shower…” Will finished, his hands fidgeting with his curtain bangs.
Mike couldn't believe that Will had said something so Luis-like as ‘au naturel’ about him going down on Will without protection.
“You mean— when I use my mouth, um, on your… butthole too,” Mike offered, trying to see if he understood it correctly.
“Uh-huh,” Will answered quietly, not looking at him.
Mike skimmed the page with ‘Rae's Radical Guide to Rubber’, where they talked about people who had vulvas, mostly, “Oh… Was I supposed to do what Rae says—“ he said worriedly.
“Mikey, I already told you,”Will interrupted him quickly, nudging his hand across the table tentatively. “It’s cool that you’re like… not grossed out and stuff.”
“Why would I be?” Mike asked sincerely.
He was still so taken aback by Will thinking he might be gross in some way. Mike was more worried that, out of the two of them, Will was way sexier and prettier than Mike knew what to do with.
“Well, I dunno…” Will shrugged, still way too flustered for how nonchalant he wanted to appear. “And I read your pamphlets, it should be fine. We’re good. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mike echoed.
Technically, there were still chances to get HIV from oral sex, but since they were a party size: two, Mike decided not to preemptively freak out about it.
“They don’t have that on the appetisers. Cowards,” Will commented, already scanning through the wretched book again, to Mike's complete dismay. “More like at the very end for ‘adventurous couples’. Are we adventurous, Michael?”
“Will, oh my God, don't ever say that again,” Mike pleaded, hating how Will's eyes glinted at that moment. “But what did you expect… It’s for people who want to ‘bring the spark back to their marriage’.” He made quotation marks in the air.
“Carter is such a douche…” Will huffed, closing the “gourmet guide” when both of them had matching red faces now.
Mike looked through the materials Will had given him and was fascinated by how blunt and, frankly, punk rock some of the zines were; it was quite refreshing and reminded him of what he'd read at Bobst, the actual book he wanted to show Will.
“So, um, new character sheets…” Will said after a while. “I mean, who’s gonna do what?”
“Uh—“ Mike froze with the open ‘Ask First! Fuck Later!’ pamphlet in his hands, not ready for Will to be the one to ask first.
“Let’s be realistic," Will went on, folding his arms. "Would you let me… do that to you?” He looked at Mike attentively, studying his face.
“I— don’t really know…” Mike answered lamely.
He hated that he was so cowardly at that moment, because, unfortunately, he hadn't thought about it in such a way. Letting Will lead sometimes, when it was just touching, was one thing; but letting him actually fuck, have intercourse with Mike like that, where Mike was the one to be... penetrated, opened a completely different can of worms.
“Well then, let’s try it the other way around,” Will suggested way too casually.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Mike asked immediately, not buying this whole breeziness.
He should've said he'd do it; he didn't want Will to think of him as some sort of asshole who took advantage of people.
“We’ll find out,” Will chuckled nervously.
“Will—“ Mike protested.
“What?” Will looked at him, irritated. “Come on, Mikey— You’re gonna do fine. You’re a smart cookie,” he said, giving Mike a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, but—“ Mike started.
“Butt is involved, too,” Will giggled. “Finish your coffee before you freak out. We haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Fine,” Mike exhaled, rolling his eyes at the corny joke. “But we use condoms.”
“Duh! I know you, Mr St Vincent’s volunteer,” Will teased. “And we literally had the whole fundraiser about it.”
Mike felt slightly better after that, hoping beyond hope that whatever he had managed to research would help him not to make it too bad for Will.
They were about to head outside to their classes when Will stopped in the hall, his eyes darting towards the kitchen door.
“Can I show the normie book to the ARC?” he asked carefully, trying to hide a mischievous smile. “…For research purposes— We need to see if there’s misinformation and stuff. Normies get infected too.”
“You’re just gonna laugh at this shit, aren’t you?” Mike said, giving him a flat look.
“Well, true,” Will admitted with a small giggle.
He smiled sweetly at Mike in an attempt to persuade him. Mike reluctantly waved him off with a tired sigh. Will jumped to the kitchen on one socked leg, the other in a half-laced boot, to retrieve the book.
“I bet Murray has something like that somewhere,” he said when he hopped back.
“Oh, God,” Mike huffed, trying not to think about how ridiculously endearing Will looked trying to follow their no-shoes policy like a Greenwich Village flamingo.
“Right?” Will gave him a little wink and stuffed the cursed marital aid manual into his bag as though it was a piece of intelligence from across the enemy lines.
You can read the whole fic here:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
