A/N: The song mentioned in the beginning is Stolen Dance, by Milky Chance. If you haven't heard it, I recommend a listen! It's also (obviously) where I borrowed the title. Enjoy!

The radio's on because they forgot to turn it off before they left, and Woody pulls Mikey back to his feet at the turn of a new song. It's one Mikey's never heard before, low-octane and liquid where he usually leans toward bass and drums, and neither of them really know how to dance right now- they barely knew how to walk home, and Mikey's still not sure how they made it up the stairs.

But that makes it funny, stumbling into the coffee table and over the ottoman funny, and Woody's pretty, the city lights outside the window caught in the curls of his hair, and there's really no reason in the world not to dance with him.

So that's what they do, through the first stanza and the first refrain, tripping and giggling drunkenly through the living room, and then.

Then Woody pulls him closer until there's no space left between them anymore, while Mikey's still breathless with laughter from the (literal) run-in with the entertainment center, and they're chest to armored chest. His brown eyes are dark and deep and soft enough to drown in, and for a second Mikey thinks he sort of wants to.

And maybe it's the alcohol impairing his judgement, like the snooty, Donny-sounding voice in his head suggests, but maybe it's not, because when Woody leans in to kiss him, soft and certain and smiling, it just makes sense in that moment the way nothing else would have.

It's curious and unafraid, the way they explore each other after that, and they grin because it's new but it comes as easily to them as movie nights and secret handshakes. It's always been easy between them, always. Woody is home and family in most of the same ways his actual home and family are- if not all the same ways, then at least the most important.

The song's over when it's over, but Woody pulls him to the bedroom instead of saying goodbye. And even though Woody has to work in the morning, and Mikey's gonna be in a world of trouble if he doesn't sneak home soon, they fall in bed together laughing, and sleep's the last thing on their mind.

He wakes up with an arm draped over his waist and one under his head, a pulse beating slowly beneath his ear, and a lingering warmth in the blankets and borrowed, over-large t-shirt he's wearing. It's probably the most comfortable he's ever been, even if he's a little tired and a little sore, and he closes his eyes for a moment to memorize the way it feels.

There's rain outside, gentle and steady and tapping on the glass of the naked window across the room like hundreds of tiny fingers. Mikey opens his eyes again, and lifts his head to read the digital face of the clock on the nightstand.

5:23 looks back at him, and he thinks Oops with only a sliver of honest remorse. His phone, propped up by the lamp, isn't blinking with any missed messages or calls- Mikey can probably still make it home before his family realizes he never came back the night before, if he hurries.

But in Woody's sleep-loose embrace, Mikey doesn't wanna hurry anywhere. He turns carefully and lays his head down again on his friend's bare arm, facing him this time.

In the dim, early morning light of the room, with mussed curls tossed in his face and a line of dried drool on his chin, Woody's still pretty. And he was pretty last night, at the costume party Mikey snuck out to; when he introduced Mikey to his friends with a smile that could stop a truck, when he showed Mikey how to mix the perfect rum and coke, when he taught him how to dance in a crowded room- pressed so close together that every breath was a shared experience, nowhere to put their hands but on each other-

And he's so pretty in bed.

"If you were awake, would you ask me to stay?" Mikey wonders softly, and grins when Woody moves closer in his sleep.

Mikey makes it home in time, after all, by the skin of his shell. He feeds Klunk, and takes a shower, and slips into his bedroom before his family is awake.

It's usually comfortable, it's usually fine. It's been his room for years, since the day came that he and his brothers were too big to share a bed. It's a good room- he likes his room.

But right now, it feels a little cramped. A little cold. Kind of lonely.

Or maybe that's just him.

Mikey's on top of his game during morning practice, maybe a little overzealous in his fixed determination not to let the late night before slow him down. Thankfully his brothers are used to his whims (Don's said something about kaleidoscopic effervescence more than once, whatever that means) enough that, aside from a few raised eye-ridges and a smattering of good-natured quips, they more or less let it go.

"Good job today, Mikey," is all Leo says, fondly; with a smile that's as amused as it is impressed. Mikey grins back, and thinks maybe he'll try as hard again tomorrow, if it makes Leo as proud as all that.

Sometime around eight a.m. his phone goes off, and he doesn't have to look at the Caller I.D. to guess who it is.

(Even better, only Raph is around to give him a weird look for the entirely goofy grin that breaks open on his face, and that's easy enough to pretend didn't happen.)

"You set my alarm clock before you left, you beautiful creature," Woody says without preamble, and it makes Mikey chuckle.

"I knew you'd forget! You were a little distracted last night, dude."

"I wouldn't say that, Mikester," he says, kindly. "I think my attention was definitely where it needed to be."

There's a warmth in Woody's voice that takes Mikey back to the warmth of the bedroom he woke up in, the warmth that lingered even after he slipped out the window into the rain. It followed him underground and through the sewers and into the lair, and he can kind of still feel it, like it's taken root under his skin.

"You think so?" he asks, with a smile tugging at his mouth that he's at least a hundred percent certain Woody will be able to hear. On the other end of the line, Woody laughs.

"I know so. And I know I'd like to be similarly occupied again tonight- and tomorrow night, and the next night, and the next, for roughly the rest of forever. If you're free."

Free is the best word for what Mikey's feeling.