Chapter Text
It starts, unfortunately, with Mike talking.
“I just think,” Mike says, pacing the living room, “that Evan buying your art is fine. Totally fine. Normal. Healthy. I’m not spiraling.”
Will is on the couch, curled in on himself, exhausted down to the bone. “You’ve said Evan’s name seventeen times.”
“That’s not a lot.”
“That’s a list.”
Mike stops pacing. Looks at him. “You didn’t even correct him when he asked if we were married.”
Will closes his eyes. “I’m so tired, Mike.”
“I know,” Mike says, softer. Then immediately ruins it. “But like. Hypothetically. If we were married.”
Will opens one eye. “Here it comes.”
Mike drops onto the couch way too close. “Would you leave me for an art collector with a calm voice.”
Will snorts. “You’re jealous of his voice now.”
“He sounds emotionally stable.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It should be.”
Will turns his head, finally looking at him properly. “Why are you like this.”
Mike shrugs. “You lie to everyone else. I lie to myself.”
Will stares at him.
Mike keeps going. Because of course he does. “You tell strangers I cheated. You let people think I ruined our fake marriage. You don’t correct anyone when they think I’m—”
He stops.
Because Will grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him in.
Mike’s brain fully blue-screens.
The kiss is not careful.
It’s tired and pent-up and slightly annoyed, like Will is kissing him to make a point. Mike makes a surprised sound into it that absolutely does not help his case.
Will pulls back half an inch. “Shut. Up.”
Mike nods immediately. “Gladly.”
He kisses him again.
This one is slower. Deeper. Mike’s hands are everywhere but respectful, sliding around Will’s back, pulling him closer like he’s afraid space might steal him away. Will melts into it despite himself, fingers fisting into Mike’s hoodie like he’s been
waiting years to do this and is mad about it.
They break apart for air.
Mike immediately tries to talk.
Will kisses him again to stop it.
“Wow,” Mike breathes when they finally separate. “Weaponized affection.”
“You wouldn’t stop,” Will says. “I had to escalate.”
Mike grins, that soft, stupid grin he only gets when he’s overwhelmed. “So the marriage thing.”
Will leans his forehead against Mike’s. “Don’t push it.”
Mike kisses his cheek. Then his jaw. Then back to his mouth, because restraint has never been his brand.
They end up tangled on the couch, limbs everywhere, Will half on top of Mike, Mike absolutely thriving. It’s all closeness and warmth and quiet touches, the kind of cuddling that feels like exhaling after holding your breath for years.
Mike presses a kiss into Will’s hair. “So. For the record. I never cheated.”
“I know,” Will murmurs.
“You lied really convincingly though.”
“Thank you.”
Mike pauses. “So what do we tell people now.”
Will considers. “That you begged.”
Mike laughs. “I did not beg.”
“You will.”
Mike kisses him again, quick and smug. “I talk too much.”
Will huffs. “You’re unbearable.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” Will agrees, curling closer.
The swear jar sits on the fridge, forgotten, overflowing.
For once, Mike is quiet.
It doesn’t last long.
But it lasts long enough.