Woodbury Getaway: Snowed In With Mike (GN!Reader)
For the lovely @duck-is-smol I felt bad how long this sat in my DMs, so I changed it up to get it out faster. Its short but I hope you still enjoy, and thanks for reaching out <33
Rated: General Audiences
Summary: Before the events of the game, Sydney and Nora decided to carpool together, while you and Mike went ahead to get the house ready. And with a few hours to kill (and counting), Mike's beginning to think his best kept secret (his crush on you) is at risk.
Mike had wanted to go on vacation for awhile, even if that meant just a quick, cheap weekend planned at the last minute. Anything to get off the grind. Turns out, a snowy retreat was more romantic than he thought he could pull off.
Him, the awkward, earnest best friend who always found himself one step behind in the romance department, either because he didn't believe in himself enough to put one foot in front of the other, or because he ended up doing too much in an effort to not be left behind.
And that's exactly how he ended up in a snowy stranger's house alone with the friend he loved. Not that they knew, not that he had planned to say anything. At least, until Sydney and Nora said they were going to be late. And then called again to say they were going to be even later.
To further complicate things, he just thought you didn't know.
"Maybe we should go ahead and make dinner. It'll be too late by the time they get here," you offered from the front window. The snow didn't look to be letting up anytime soon, and neither of you had eaten since the pizzeria.
"We'll need a few fish. You feel like throwing some rods into the creek back there?" Mike asked.
"Whoever catches less fish has to clean them?" The challenging glitter in your eye made Mike's stomach tighten, and he rose to meet you.
"Oh, you're on."
Fishing came and went (thankfully, considering how cold it was), and you found yourself the proud owner of gloating rights, having caught two of the three fish in the cooler. Mike took his loss with an acceptable amount of grumbling, and followed you inside to put dinner together.
Only, he was sort of, really bad at it.
"I can't watch this anymore. You're going to cut yourself, and it's going to be really embarrassing when you lose a finger."
"That's not true," he insisted, suddenly pink in the cheeks when instead of taking the knife from him, you laid your hand over his to guide the tool safely. "They can laser my finger back on, I won't lose it."
"Forgive me. I didn't know hospitals can repair egos as easily as they laser limbs."
"Now that's true, I don't think I'd ever live it down," he smiled over his shoulder, not realizing how close your faces actually were. But he held his ground. His blush only darkened as he watched the pattern of your eyes go from his eyes to his lips.
"You're uh," you nudged his hand. "If you're not paying attention, you won't learn anything."
"Right!" He cleared his throat, and you might have sworn you saw a puff of steam come up from his collar. "You're absolutely right. No accidents here."
Dinner was fine, but the moment the dishes were cleared, the tension returned. Emboldened by the time and the cooking lesson, Mike rose from the couch to stand in front of the TV.
"Changed your mind about watching a movie? What's up?" You asked when he crossed his arms for a little bit of courage.
"Truth or dare."
"What?" You chuckled. He was endearing in all his gusto, already smiling even without your agreement to play his little game.
"Where did this come from?"
"Humor me?" His smile faltered as he managed not to lose his nerve. "Truth or dare."
"All right, Mike... Truth."
"How long have we been friends?"
"Quiz time? Oh man, I—" You thought back to all those endless study sessions, late nights at his apartment when it was too much trouble for both of you to make dinner. One cooks, the other brings the flashcards, at least until you lost the plot and fell asleep in front of the TV, pillowed on each other. Honesty, nights that really should have been called dates but you both were too busy to think too hard about it. Lately, you had both been so busy at work, you couldn't remember the last time you hung out like this.
"Forever, feels like."
"Your turn," he plopped down on the couch next to you, more confident, almost proud of himself, and nonchalant like the room wasn't suddenly warmer.
"Truth or dare."
"Truth."
"Is it bad that I'm hoping Sydney and Nora take their time?"
The ticking of the wall clock reminded you both how loud a heartbeat can be in a quiet room.
"If it is, I'm guilty too."
"Truth or dare."
"Dare."
"Will you kiss me?"
"That didn't exactly sound like a dare—but yes."
Whatever excuse he might have thought to make for how long it took, and insecurities he was still trying to tamper down, none of it mattered under the warm press of your kiss. For all his faults, his shyness, his tendency to rush in with all his cards out, he was still Mike: sweetheart, confidant, and friend.
And finally, he was yours.
Hadn't he always been?