It's late at night when Mike skims over the paperwork he's filed with the lawyers for what feels like the hundredth time. Yeah, some might say he's become kind of obsessed lately, but what had started out as a prank on John's part is now one of the more serious things going on in Mike's life right now. He wants that briefcase. He wants it now, he wants the power and opportunity it provides. His fingers twitch and his eyes strain with exhaustion, but he keeps reading, and dwelling, and ... He doesn't notice he's not alone until arms wrap snug around his midsection. His interest on the papers in his hand snaps suddenly and he looks up and over. "AJ?" he whispers. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

She squints sleepily at him and shakes her head. "You didn't, necessarily," she whispers back. "But the bed is cold and lonely when you're not in it." She leans against him, warm and groggy, and he smiles, careful not to knock her down when he pushes his chair back and stands, scooping her up in his arms. She makes a soft, pleased noise as she curls her arms around his neck and holds on during the walk back to their bedroom. "What were you doing anyway, rereading that contract again?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, moving to lay her down. This hits an unexpected wrinkle when she doesn't let him go, a sparkle in her eye. "Sweetheart," he says warningly, but she ignores this, arches up and presses a slow, lingering kiss to his mouth. He sighs into it, tightening his hold around her hips, and she hums pleasantly, licking gently at his lips until he deepens the kiss, shifting to straddle her. "AJ-"

"Please," she whispers against his cheek and he immediately caves, brushing his fingers down her side slowly as she sighs and trembles under him, trailing more kisses along his jaw, down his neck. "Mike-" Her words fade away as he kisses her again, long and deep and mind-meltingly perfect.

It's slow and quiet and Mike's overwhelmed with how incredible AJ is, as an advocate for people with mental health issues, as a writer, as a mother, as his wife. His mind spins with the thought of ever being obsessed with anything but her as he lightly trails his fingers over her stomach and watches her breathe in deeply, the last of the grogginess fading from her eyes when he eases her out of that old merch shirt of his from when they were first dating, and begins pressing warm, slick kisses into every inch of her he can reach.

She exhales his name and he looks up at her for a moment, enthralled by her beauty, before whispering his intentions into her skin, to always adore her and make her see how she's the most vital thing in his world for the rest of their lives, and her fingers stroke over his hair then, tugging lightly before he eases back up, kissing her intently, and her moan fades off into a breathy whimper, his hands finding hers and pinning them lightly to the pillows as he continues to draw those sweet reactions from her.

-x

Mike cannot believe this. The suit his lawyers had filed seemed like a good idea at the time- but Mike had missed one, pivotal point and he hates himself for it now as he braces John's body, trying to help him find his footing. The attack had been sudden and brutal, Mike unable to do much but watch as Otis rammed John time and again into the metal door, leaving his best friend dazed on the floor until referees could intervene and break everything apart, allowing Mike to swoop in and pull his best friend to his feet, yelling at Heavy Machinery to get away. Now things are quieter, but John can still barely stand upright, and Mike grimaces, trying to catch his eye. "Hey. John. Hey, man. Can you hear me?"

"Mike," he breathes into his best friend's neck and Mike exhales, squeezing his side. "What happened? Feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"Close enough," Mike mumbles. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you out of here." A referee appears on the other side and, between the two of them, they help John down the hall to the trainer's office where they prop him up on a cot. The referee leaves, having other things to attend to, but Mike sits and watches and waits as the trainer looks John over, clearly checking him for a concussion.

He purses his lips, watching John for a few moments longer, before turning to approach Mike. "I don't know. If it's a concussion, it's minor. I want to run further IMPACT testing in a couple of days. Just to make sure. In the meanwhile, keep an eye on him, if something seems wrong or he starts seeming even more confused or out of it, call me or take him to the ER right away."

"Alright," Mike sighs, hating the waiting game. "Thanks."

As soon as the trainer heads off to check on someone else, Mike stands and approaches the cot, resting his hand on John's shoulder. He's distracted, momentarily, by the ticklish feel of his hair against his palm, and he smiles for a moment before kneeling closer to his best friend. "I'm really sorry, John. I... I don't know why I excluded you from that suit. I should've... I should have done more to protect you."

John hums, tilting his head towards Mike's voice, and Mike waits, watching him as he fights to open his eyes. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, buddy. We can go." Mike helps him stand, keeping a hand on his lower back as they walk side by side through the halls, John wincing away from all of the flourescent lights overhead until Mike reaches out and puts a pair of sunglasses on his face.

John smiles at him, this clearly helping, and some of Mike's guilt eases. Not all, but some. He pats John's back as he guides him through the parking lot to their car and eases him inside, carefully shutting the door and running over to his side.

He's not sure where they go from here, or if John will continue to be patient with him if he keeps screwing up like this, but... Mike clenches the steering wheel and glances over at John. As important as the Money in the Bank briefcase is, some things just matter more.