Work Text:
Later that night, they’re tangled up in the sheets, the house finally quiet.
Mike’s shirtless, like always, sprawled on his back with one arm tucked behind his head. The ceiling fan hums softly overhead. Will is curled on his side facing away from him, Mike's knees pressed against his back.
Mike hasn’t slept.
He won’t— not until they talk about it.
“Will?” he murmurs into the cool dark, voice low and careful. He doesn’t know if Will’s asleep, but he hopes he isn’t.
There’s a soft rustle of sheets. “Yeah, my love?” Will turns toward him, eyes open, voice warm and alert. He must not have been sleeping either.
Mike swallows. He doesn’t ease into it.
“Have you thought about… why you keep getting these headaches? And the dizzy spells and—” he huffs quietly, frustrated with himself, “—all that shit?”
The bluntness hangs in the air between them.
Will blinks, processing. His fingers drift automatically to Mike’s left hand, finding his wedding band like it’s second nature. He spins it gently.
“I—” Will exhales. “I guess not. Not really.” He shrugs one shoulder against the pillow. “It just… happens.”
It’s too casual. Too dismissive.
“Why?” Will asks after a second, eyes lifting to meet his husband’s in the dark. “Have you?”
Mike doesn’t answer right away.
“Yeah,” he finally admits. His jaw tightens. “A lot, actually.”
Will stills at that. The ring stops moving under his fingertips.
“A lot?” he echoes, softer now. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mike rolls onto his side so they’re face to face. He reaches up, cupping Will’s cheek, thumb brushing just under his eye.
“Because,” he says carefully, “you’ve been drowning, Will. Work’s been insane, you’ve been trying to catch up after the hospital, you’ve barely been sleeping— I didn’t want to pile something else on top of you.” His thumb strokes slowly. “I figured you needed a minute to breathe.”
Will’s eyes soften. He nods once, small and understanding.
“If you were worrying,” Will says quietly, “you should’ve told me.”
Mike winces slightly.
“But,” Will continues, squeezing his hand gently, “I get why you didn’t.”
He hasn’t let go of the ring.
Mike notices. He always does. When things get serious, Will anchors himself there. It’s subtle, but it’s constant— the tiny rotation of silver against skin.
“I think we should see a doctor,” Mike says. The words come out steadier this time. “I tried bringing it up at the hospital, remember? They brushed it off. Said it was probably stress.”
Will hums faintly.
“I don’t buy that,” Mike adds. “Because the whole reason you’re stressed is because you feel like crap half the time. That doesn’t make sense.”
Frustration creeps into his voice. He scrubs a hand down his face, pulling it away from Will without thinking.
The loss of contact is immediate.
Will’s fingers chase his hand the second it drops back down, lacing their fingers together and holding tight. Grounding.
“Okay,” Will says after a moment. “Then we’ll try again. How about we schedule an appointment when we get home tomorrow?”
There’s no argument in his tone. No brushing it off.
Just trust.
Mike nods, relief flickering across his face even in the dim light.
Will lifts Mike’s hand and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles— light and fleeting, like a butterfly’s wings. It makes Mike’s chest ache in the best way.
“Get some sleep,” Will whispers.
Mike snorts quietly. “You first.”
Will rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile in it.
“I love you, idiot.”
Mike leans forward, pressing his forehead to Will’s.
“I love you too.”