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Mikey was rambling on about something. Trying to bullshit an excuse for what exactly he was doing in Mdawg’s storage unit, Mike gathered, but he wasn’t exactly paying attention, his mind elsewhere completely as he undid the rope around Mikey’s wrists.
Mikey. Mikey. Mikey.
He couldn’t ever keep himself out of trouble could he? From his first moments back in time his strongest memories of his younger iteration were of pulling him out of scrapes like this by the scruff of his neck. Latvia and Rugby and Ravi and Latvia again and plenty more since.
This was certainly high on the list of things Mikey should not have been doing, another dive into deadly trouble he’d told absolutely no one about, and Mike felt distantly that he probably should have been fuming, but he couldn’t bring himself to that. Surely Mikey had put himself through enough already. He didn’t need harsh words from Mike.
Instead the dominant emotion as he untied Mikey and helped him to his feet was relief. Relief as he pulled him into a tight hug and Mikey buried his face into Mike’s neck. Relief as Mike rubbed soothing circles in his back and ran his other hand through Mikey’s messy hair. Relief as he pulled back and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and then the corner of his lips. Relief as Mikey kissed him back and then met his eyes, the panic of the frantic moments before gone from his face.
Relief. He was alright. No matter whose fault it was, the danger was gone now and his Mikey was alright.