𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛; byler

t w e n t y - t w o

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!!𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!!

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it took them 45 minuted to close everything up.

well, to be honest if will had been doing it alone the whole act wouldn't have taken more than 10 minutes. 

there really wasn't much to do... but mike seemed intent on making every mistake he could have possible made- mistakes will didn't know could actually happen.

 somehow mike managed to shatter 4 plates, spill an entire bucket of leftover barbecue sauce and break the broomstick. will honestly wasn't sure he wasn't doing it on purpose, because it didn't seem entirely plausible to be that clumsy.

 but he couldn't be mad at him at all- after all, this was his restaurant: and besides, after every stupid incident he would get this guilty look in his eyes and smile the cheekiest little smile. he looked like a puppy caught doing something forbidden- and will couldn't help laughing.

 so, that's how they stayed for the next hour- laughing, failing, cleaning, failing again: and will wanted it to never end. mike made him feel free, like he could goof off and be an idiot without judgment- because mike was acting ten times the fool he was. 

at one point, right after the spilled sauce incident, mike grabbed two huge wipes and stood on them, and after he put on music he danced across the floor, wiping and dancing at the same time.

so could will really be blamed for grabbing wipes of his own and joining the dumb dance? who could help dancing when my hips don't lie is blasting at top volume and mike wheeler is making the most ridiculous dance moves imaginable?

so yeah. Maybe it wasn't the most efficient way to clean- but it was most certainly the most fun one.

"so what do you say, am i hired?" mike asked as they were finally existing the restaurant. he was leaning on the wall and watching will lock the door, that goofy smile across his face.

"i don't think i'd hire you if you were the last man alive," will responded. he finally got the lock to close and turned towards mike. 

"however, i definitely think you have a future as a dancer. should i call shakira, see if she needs some backup dancers?"

mike laughed, his wonderful laugh the only sound in the quiet night. 
"i don't think that's fair," he said as they started walking, "i wouldn't want to take all her thunder. who could compete with these moves?"

he stopped walking suddenly, doing this absolutely ludicrous rolling motion. the beach was empty, but will couldn't help looking around, afraid someone would see- mike, however, didn't seem to care. he did this "dance" about five more times and proceeded to make some more stupid dances, sand flying all around him. will was laughing so hard a tear actually went down his cheeks.

"stop, stop! i get it, wouldn't want to ruin shakira's career," he finally managed to say in between his laughs, and mike stopped his dancing.

"these hips don't lie baby," he said, completely serious, brushed off his knees and started walking again.

it took will a few moments to compose himself enough to start walking again- and when he did, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. how did he go so long without talking to mike? how did he go so long without hearing that laughter, without having him so close?