A/N: I think I left this a bit unresolved in "Discoveries".

Woody is feeling good in his recovery. And its time for him to push an issue with his turtle.

As much as he liked to think of himself as a master of sleeping in, his curly-haired human put him to shame. To the point where he'd even asked Donnie once if humans required more sleep than turtles – Donnie's reply was no – because Woody could sleep. But a sleeping Woody meant Mikey got to lie in bed and stare at him all he wanted without it being creepy. Well, not too creepy anyway.

He reached silently forward and did his best to get a blonde curl to loop around one of his large green fingers without disturbing Woody. Woody was pretty. He'd scowl at Mikey if Mikey said that to him out loud. But it was true. He was curly blonde hair and big brown eyes and a voice that made Mikey's insides spark and twist pretty.

Given Woody's love of sleep, Mikey wasn't sure how Woody managed to get up so early on the mornings he had PT with Leo. Although, it was probably the thought of leaving Leo up there waiting on him that prevented Woody from hitting snooze on those mornings. Mikey might not always look at Leo as the clan leader, but he knew Woody did, and Leo was taking time out of his own schedule to help Woody out. And while Mikey knew the PT was helping, he was glad today wasn't a PT day, because it meant Woody was still here in bed with him.

He froze when Woody shifted in his sleep, but looped another curl around his finger when it was clear that Woody wasn't about to wake up.

Growing up, his father and brothers had always said he had too much energy. And a mind that wandered too often. Woody had never accused him of either. Of course, there was something about Woody that had always calmed him. And Woody had also always had a genuine interest in knowing where Mikey's mind had wandered. So he could go there too.

And he grinned as he realized that Woody had always been rather impressed with his energy levels. And at that thought, he let his eyes roam over his husband. Woody slept on his stomach and had his head turned towards Mikey. Their sheet came up around Woody's waist, leaving his back uncovered. It had never seemed right to Mikey that humans walked around with their spines so exposed. But it didn't mean he didn't appreciate the curve it created in Woody's back and his mind wandered to how nice it would be to run a finger along that curve now.

But he kept his fingers off Woody's back. Because he'd almost lost Woody this year. And if he wanted to feel icy cold, he'd just think about what it would've been like if Woody had never come home from the hospital. About how strange it would've been for the loudest of the turtles to end up in the quietest apartment. No Woody smiles. No one to share silly jokes with. No one to be there in the middle of the night when scary scenes from the past crept into his dreams.

Empty bed. Empty main room. Empty kitchen. He shuddered just thinking about it.

He had vowed that if Woody recovered and came home to him, that he would spend the rest of his life taking care of Woody. Of course, they'd basically said that exact thing to each other only a few months before Franklin, when they'd officially exchanged wedding vows. So, Mikey decided his deal with the universe would have to be more specific. And as he'd sat on a rooftop outside the hospital, waiting to hear how Woody's surgery had gone, he tried to think of something more substantial to offer.

He pulled his finger out of the blonde curls when Woody stirred again and Mikey realized he was waking up.

Woody smiled at Mikey as he felt those fingers move through his hair right before his eyes opened. He missed having Mikey's hands on him. He'd made a few advances towards Mikey that were subtly rebuffed with Mikey scampering off to make him food or get him a pillow. He had been pretty cranky in his early recovery so he didn't blame Mikey. But he thought he'd been pretty cheery these last couple weeks. And yet, Michelangelo was still avoiding him.

He wasn't sure how to convince Mikey that he was recovered. But he desperately wanted Mikey to treat him the way he did before Franklin. He'd managed to get Mikey to give him real Mikey hugs again, but he'd made very little progress after that. It was frustrating. In more ways than one.

With that thought in mind, he shifted himself quickly, and knocked Mikey back on his shell so that he could land on top of Mike's plastron. He pressed his mouth to Mikey's mouth before Mikey could protest about him hurting his scar by moving too fast, something Mikey had actually said to him. It was strange to think Mikey actually thought that was a possibility considering Mike was in no way unfamiliar with scars. Woody had once spent an entire afternoon tracing all of Michelangelo's scars with his tongue after all.

Mikey's hands landed on his shoulders and Woody nearly sighed in relief when he felt Mike pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. He wanted to move more of himself on top of Mike, but he didn't want Mike to notice his shifting movements and immediately think he was uncomfortable. Because that would attract the attention of Caretaker Mike. And Caretaker Mike would stop touching him and offer him a meal instead. And there was only one thing he was interested in putting in his mouth at that point and Mike's delicious cooking wasn't it. So he pushed his tongue into Mike's mouth to distract him as he shifted up Michelangelo's body. He'd always loved how smooth and cool Mike's plastron felt against his skin and he reveled in that feeling now as his chest slid further up Mike's armored chest. And he practically moaned as he felt one of Mike's hands slide down his back.

Which was apparently the wrong thing to do, because instead of receiving a churr in response to the sound he made, Mikey quickly sat up, twisting Woody gently as he went, and in the end, Woody ended up sitting next to him on the bed instead of in Mikey's lap.

Woody watched as Mikey's big blue eyes scanned over him for damage.

"You okay?" Mikey asked.

Mikey was a little out of breath, although not as much as Woody would've liked. He nodded back to him in response.

"Why aren't we kissing right now?" Woody asked. He was tired of dancing around this issue. And subtle didn't typically work on Mike anyway.

"Its time to make you breakfast," Mikey said, pushing the sheet away from himself as he avoided Woody's eyes.

"Mikey," Woody breathed out. "You know that Franklin caused the headaches and seizures. And they took Franklin out. I'm fine now. I don't even have stitches anymore."

"I'm not an idiot. Of course I know all that," Mikey said, hopping out of their bed.

Woody's mouth dropped open at the clear irritation in Mikey's voice.

"Mike-,"

"Plus I still have food prep to finish before morning practice."

"Michelangelo," Woody said, earnestly.

"Its fine, dude," Mikey said, and he managed to shoot Woody a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before he escaped their bedroom entirely.

Woody sighed in frustration. Then he was up, pulling on sweatpants and stomping his way out into their kitchen where he found Mikey pulling plates down from their cupboard.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Mikey asked, keeping his shell to him.

Woody stood in the middle of their kitchen and remained silent. He waited until Mikey finally turned to look at him before answering.

"You."

"It's a little late for you to tell me you have a taste for turtle, dude," Mikey said, doing his best to make a joke. He watched as Woody approached him and didn't stop the human from trapping him against their counter.

"I definitely have a taste for turtle, Mikester."

Mikey felt his resolve crumbling at the sound of Woody's nickname for him. But he gasped and quickly pushed Woody gently back a step when he felt Woody's mouth on his neck. He could see the immediate hurt in Woody's eyes and was about to squeeze his human's shoulders before he quickly dropped his hands to his sides.

"Look, Michelangelo, if you -," Woody paused, ducking his head down before forcing the next words out, "- I mean, I know this whole thing has been hard and if you want to separate -,"

"No," Mikey said and this time he did grab Woody's shoulders in order to squeeze him. Hard. "I never want to be away from you, Woodrow."

Woody lifted his eyes and saw more seriousness on Mikey's face than he'd probably ever seen before.

"Never, dude," Mikey said.

Woody had to admit, he was relieved. Just the few seconds that that thought had occurred to him was enough torture to last him a lifetime. But he tipped his head at Mikey.

"So, you want to stay together," Woody said, the relief evident in his voice. "But we're never going to touch each other again?"

Hearing it directly out of Woody's mouth like that did make the idea sound incredibly terrible. Still, he said, "I'm not going to hurt you." His hands were still wrapped tightly around Woody's shoulders and he loosened them so that he could rub a thumb back and forth over Woody's upper arms.

"Ignoring me is hurting me, Mike," Woody said. He sighed in frustration and pushed Mikey's hands off his shoulders before taking a few steps away from him. "Look, would it be easier for you if I just move my stuff into the spare bedroom?" He watched Mikey's face twist as if in pain. "If that's also a no, then you've got to help me out here, Mike. I have no idea what's wrong."

Mikey moved across the kitchen to where Woody had gone and quickly pulled his human into his plastron for a tight hug. "When I was waiting for you to come out of surgery, I made a deal with whoever was listening. If you came out safe and healthy, then I'd make sure nothing ever hurt you ever again, including me."

Woody pulled back to meet Mikey's eyes. Mikey's sad and scared eyes. He felt like kicking himself for not seeing it before. He could only imagine how scared Mikey had been sitting outside the hospital, in the cold, dodging wolves, and waiting to hear if Woody even survived such a dangerous surgery.

"And I just know the second something happens to you, that Son of Franklin will make an appearance."

Woody raised his hands and cupped Mikey's face before leaning in to kiss him. Mikey returned the kiss and tightened his arms around Woody.

"If our roles were reversed, I would've done the same thing to get you back, Mikester," Woody murmured as he nuzzled his face against Mikey's face. "But when have you ever hurt me?"

Mikey let go of him only to hold up his hands for Woody to see. "Look at me, dude. I'm no Raphael, but I could still crush you with these hands. And you can't tell me that sleeping with me is any different than having a large rock in bed with you."

Woody chuckled at the mental image, but quickly added. "I'm not made of glass, Mike. And those well-trained, ninja fingers have never hurt me. And you are certainly not like sleeping with a rock." He let his eyes roam over Mikey and then said, "After all, I've never had the urge to rub myself against a rock."

Mikey watched Woody's eyes move down his body and back up again and swallowed hard, doing his best to fight off a churr. "They said to be careful with you," he whispered.

"And you have been," Woody said. He didn't want to scare Mikey off, so he moved his hands to what he considered a safe spot up on Mikey's arms. "You've been bending over backwards to take care of me."

Mikey eyed Woody. He'd almost lost him to that stupid Franklin. And again, a few moments ago, he suddenly realized.

"Well, I am pretty flexible," Mikey said slowly.

Mikey's response had Woody's face splitting into a wide grin. Encouraged by both the words and the sudden deep tone in Mikey's voice, Woody let one of his hands travel down Mikey's shell until he found the tail he liked so much. And this time, Mikey did let the churr roll up his throat. The noise filled Woody with intense relief.

With Michelangelo by his side, he had recovered from Franklin. And now it was time to thank his sweet, funny turtle for taking such good care of him.

"Prove it," Woody murmured to him.