#elongation

You know despite being a slime girl, Bow Slime never thought to elongate herself once, until now

Mansory "Elongation"

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Will and Mike are sitting across from each other on Mike's bed, Mike's fingers tapping absently on Will's knee, mouth twisted into a lazy pout, staring into space.

Will's lips form a fond smile, and he props his chin in his hand, taking a moment to really look at Mike. He does that a lot, if he's being honest, and he takes comfort in the fact that he can admire Mike openly, that he doesn't have to hide it anymore.

His coarse, dark hair that Will finds himself constantly wanting to gently card his hand through. The freckles scattered almost artfully across his face form an irresistible constellation. Will wants to trace it with his fingers. Every so often, Mike will doze off, only for his eyes to pop open a few moments later, tired blinking, wash, rinse, repeat. It was honestly kind of entertaining.

Will's eyes inevitably move a little lower, and he feels the tips of his ears heat up.

Um. Yep. Those sure are lips, alright. On Mike's, uh, face.

Okay.

So maybe Will is currently fantasizing about pinning Mike against his bedroom wall and just– fucking– kissing him. 

Maybe.

“Will.”

Will's eyes snap up to Mike's, and he hopes his face isn't as red as it feels.

Mike lifts a lazy eyebrow, the corner of his lips pulled up in a knowing grin. His voice is thick with sleep when he says, “You were staring.”

Will refuses to blush more than he already is. “I was,” he admits. He moves forward a little and tucks a strand of Mike's hair behind his ear. Gives a shrug. “You're pretty.”

Okay, so Mike's not at too-tired-to-feel-flustered level yet, because his eyes widen a little, color suffusing his cheeks, and Will can't help but smile. Although it is, truthfully, not that hard for him to make Mike blush, the combination of accomplishment and amusement and fondness he feels whenever he does never fails to make an appearance.

He cups Mike's cheek in his palm, because he can, and isn't that just the best kind of miracle, getting to hold something you never thought you'd have?

Mike's eyes are wide, and there is something in them that makes Will's heart do a little flip in his chest. He brushes his thumb across Mike's cheek, and he repeats, voice barely above a whisper, “Pretty.”

Mike's face is reminiscent of the color of a fire engine. His mouth is moving wordlessly, like he's been flustered speechless, and Will's face breaks out in a smile.

Mike finally decides on a halfhearted “Shut up,” eliciting a small laugh from Will. But he's closing his eyes and leaning into Will's touch.

“Why?” Will muses. “It's true.”

“Well, you're prettier.”

Will lets out a surprised laugh. Mike's compliments always catch him a little off guard, leave him reeling from the sheer consistency of them, and the way Mike always seems to believe whatever it is he's saying.

Mike's eyes fly open, and he frowns. “It's true,” he insists. “You're the prettiest ever. It's just,” he gestures at Will, “your face. And your eyes and stuff. Like, wow.”

Warmth spreads across Will's cheeks. So much for not blushing any more. “You're the worst,” he huffs, crossing his arms and slumping against the bed frame.

(via GIPHY)

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