an: yay schmelly week!! shoutout @eldritchx / @schmellyweek for creating this week and these awesome prompts :) make sure to check out the stuff they create too!
wc: 2.8k
summary: mike gets a phone call from vanessa late at night
tags: fluff, idiots in love
you can also find this on my ao3 here
—————
It's already late when the phone starts ringing.
Definitely after midnight, if Mike had to guess. He's been glued to the couch ever since Abby went to bed, and he still hasn't managed to dig out the clock from whatever box it got shoved into, so there's no way of knowing without having to get up.
The living room is littered with boxes, some empty and half-collapsed, others still taped up and untouched. He was supposed to be unpacking — that's what he told himself he'd do, at least, until he sat down and didn't bother getting back up. They’ve only been in the new house for a week, and he’s already sick of sorting through all their stuff — deciding what to keep, what to get rid of, where any of it’s supposed to go.
Mostly, he’s just sick of the cardboard, the packing tape, the bubble wrap Abby won't stop popping every chance she gets — sick of feeling like he's living somewhere temporary instead of somewhere that's his. He supposes it’s his own fault for not unpacking faster, but between Abby and his new job, there’s barely enough time during the day, and by the time night rolls around he’s always too tired to do much of anything besides sit still and stare at the mess.
He peels himself off the couch with a groan — mostly because he doesn't want the ringing to wake up Abby — and he pulls the phone off the wall as he rubs a hand over his face.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Vanessa. Sorry, did I wake you up?"
Her voice comes out all tinny sounding through the line, and Mike can hear how tired she sounds, her voice lower and a little more raspy. Mike likes her voice a lot — likes how soft-spoken she gets when it's just the two of them — but even he can hear the exhaustion threaded through the normal sound of it.
"No, no, you didn't," Mike assures, clearing his throat and looking over at the oven to finally catch the time. It's 12:57, which is even later than he realized. "Did you need something?"
There's a staticky silence at first, long enough that Mike briefly thinks the call may have dropped until he hears a quiet exhale. "Sorry. I can call back tomorrow."
"No, Vanessa," he says quickly, then remembers himself and lowers his voice again. If it were the weekend he wouldn’t care as much, but Abby has school tomorrow, and the last thing he needs is to wake her up. "You're fine. I was already awake."
Vanessa goes quiet again, and Mike’s never really sure what to do with that. It’s hard enough to read her when she’s right in front of him, and trying to do it like this — with only silence on the other end of the line — is even worse. He wishes he could just see inside her head sometimes to know what she's thinking.
Finally, her voice crackles through the line again. "You sound tired."
Mike exhales with a small laugh, looking down at the floor and leaning into the wall. "Yeah, well, so do you."
A tiny huff comes through the line. "I couldn't sleep."
He hums softly, his socked foot nudging at one of the boxes by the wall. He knows Vanessa has never slept easily — she mentioned once that she’s not really someone who falls asleep before midnight — and after everything with her father, he knows it’s worse now. Bad dreams, long nights, starting the day earlier than necessary because she's not getting any sleep anyway.
He must've stayed quiet for too long, because Vanessa clears her throat awkwardly. "Really, Mike, I can just call you tomorrow."
"No," he says immediately, wincing as he leans his head to peek down the hall at Abby's door. "Sorry, I'm here. Can't sleep?"
Vanessa is quiet for another second, like she's actually debating whether she should stay on or hang up. He really hopes she doesn't hang up, because then he'll just feel terrible. He doesn't understand how even he could screw up a simple phone call, but he seems to have a talent for making himself look dumb in front of Vanessa.
"Not really," she finally says, letting out a small sigh. "I even read some of your book to try and make myself tired, but nothing seems to work these days."
His chest warms at the thought of her reading over dream theory. He lent her the book since he didn't really need it anymore, hoping it would maybe help her get some control over her own dreams. He didn't expect her to actually want to read it, so he's a little bit surprised.
"You're not reading my notes, are you?" he asks, earning a soft giggle from her. He's doodled all in that book — read it so many times the pages are torn in certain places and his pen marks have bleed through the margins — so he knows she can't exactly avoid them.
"I've tried," she says, voice lilting a little, "but your handwriting is pretty awful."
"It's not that bad," he replies with a smile, listening to the sound of rustling as he says it. He guesses she's in bed — knows she keeps the phone on her nightstand — turning over and trying to get comfortable.
"It's pretty bad, Mike," she teases. "On this page, you underlined an entire paragraph and just wrote 'important' next to it."
Mike laughs for real at that and shakes his head, trying to remember what page he might've done that on. Really, he probably did it on multiple pages, so there's no telling.
"Yeah, well," he says, scratching at his neck, "it was probably important."
Vanessa huffs another tired-sounding laugh, and Mike smiles into the receiver. He shifts the phone a little higher against his ear and slides down the wall until he's sitting on the floor, one knee bent up in front of him.
"What're you still doing up?" Vanessa asks quietly. Mike sighs and lets his gaze drift around the mess that is his living room.
"I was meant to be unpacking," he starts, letting his head gently thump against the wall behind him. "Then I sat down and never got back up."
Vanessa lets out an amused little sound. "I could come over and help, y'know. It's not like I have anything better to do."
She's still not allowed back at work, and Mike knows it's been driving her crazy — knows she hates being stuck at home, hates feeling useless. He keeps trying to tell her being injured isn't the same thing as being lazy, but she's pretty stubborn when it comes to the topic.
"You are not coming over here at one in the morning," Mike replies. Really, he wouldn't mind the company — even if they didn't actually unpack and just got to talk — but he's not going to ask that of her when she's meant to be sleeping… or at least trying to.
"I didn't mean now, silly," she teases, and Mike feels his face heat up. "I meant tomorrow, while Abby's at school. You mentioned you have Mondays off, right?"
Mike shifts against the wall, trying not to smile at the fact that she remembered. He's noticed Vanessa is oddly good at remembering the things he says offhand, like anytime he opens his mouth she's actually paying attention to what might come out. "Yeah, yeah, I do."
"Then let me help," Vanessa insists, a little softer now. "Only if you want, though."
"No, I do," Mike replies immediately, hoping he doesn't sound too eager. "I mean— yeah. Abby gets on the bus a little after seven, so… come whenever you want."
"Good," Vanessa hums, and he hears a little shift like she's switching which ear she's holding the phone to. "I wanted to see you anyways."
"Me?" Mike blurts, already regretting the way it came out.
"Yes, you," Vanessa responds, giggling softly. "Is that such a surprise?"
Mike's really glad she can't see his face right now, because he knows he's blushing like an absolute idiot.
"I mean," he starts, exhaling around a nervous laugh. "I dunno. A little."
Her laugh comes through the phone low and sleepy sounding. "Well, it shouldn't be."
Mike drags a hand down his face, staring helplessly up the ceiling. The whole thing feels a little juvenile, he thinks, like they're two teenagers trying not to get caught on the phone instead of grown adults with jobs and responsibilities and all.
Mike hears more rustling, like she's getting settled under the sheets, then hears a soft, almost noncommittal hum from her. He keeps opening his mouth to say something, but every time he does, the words die in his throat. He doesn't really want to disrupt the peaceful quiet they've settled into, but he does want to hear her voice again — especially like this. He tries to imagine how pretty she must look, with her hair fanned over the pillows and eyes half-lidded.
"What page of my book are you on?" he finally asks, absentmindedly winding the phone cord around his finger.
"Mm. Dunno." Vanessa sighs quietly, clearing her throat. "Somewhere close to the middle."
Mike huffs, rolling his eyes to himself. "That's not a page."
"Excuse you," Vanessa says, all mock-offended. "Hang on."
Mike listens to the sound of her covers rustling again, then the quiet sounds of pages turning.
"Page ninety-three," Vanessa says after a moment.
Mike hums, trying to envision the page through the tiredness fogging over his brain. "Anything interesting?"
Vanessa is quiet again, and Mike can practically hear her squinting at the page. He’s heard enough of this book in his own head to know most of it only sounds interesting when you’re desperate for answers, so he wonders if it's actually helping Vanessa after all, considering she's almost one hundred pages in.
"Maybe," she says eventually. "Mostly just stuff on dreams being emotional therapy."
That sounds familiar. He remembers enough to know the section is talking about the brain providing a safe environment to process your negative emotions through dreams. Useful in theory, less useful when the dreams are actively causing said negative emotions.
"Read it to me," he says before he can really think better of it.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, then Vanessa gives this soft, tired little laugh, like the request caught her off guard. "You want me to read your own book to you?"
Mike shrugs even though she can’t see it, picking at a loose bit of carpet by his foot. "Maybe."
Vanessa is quiet for a second, and Mike thinks maybe she’s going to laugh again or ask what’s wrong with him, but instead he just hears the soft turn of another page.
"Okay," she says finally, voice sleepier now.
Mike smiles to himself and settles a little more comfortably against the wall, one hand still loosely wrapped in the phone cord. There’s another brief rustle, like she’s adjusting the book in her lap, then Vanessa clears her throat softly and starts to read.
Her voice comes through the line a little fuzzy with the static, and Mike lets his head tip back against the wall. He closes his eyes, trying to pay attention to the words, but all he can really focus on is her — the rise and fall of her voice, the way she keeps clearing her throat when her voice rasps, the occasional giggle when she reads one of his notes back to him.
Mike wishes the phone cord could reach the couch so he could lay down instead of sit on the floor, but it's probably for the best — he's pretty sure he'd knock out on the couch. He could honestly listen to her for hours with the way her voice is making his eyes droop and his body feel so heavy it's like he's sinking into the wall.
Vanessa reads for another minute or two before her voice starts to slow a little. She pauses longer between sentences, certain words coming out softer than the rest, and every now and then she has to go back and repeat a line because she lost her place. She gets halfway through one of his margin notes before breaking off with a quiet laugh.
"You wrote 'look into this later,'" she murmurs, voice a little groggy and amused.
Mike smiles with his eyes still shut. "Did I?"
"Mhm. D'you ever look into it?"
He thinks about it for a second, then cracks one eye open to stare vaguely at the dark ceiling. "Probably."
Vanessa lets out that soft, breathy little laugh again, and it comes through the phone warm enough to make something in his chest ache. He doesn’t even really care what she’s reading anymore. She could be reading a grocery list she grabbed off her nightstand and he wouldn't notice — would still be just as content listening to it.
She clears her throat and keeps going, though the words are starting to run together in his brain. Mike shifts, stretching one leg out in front of him and rubbing a hand over his face. He blinks blearily towards the oven clock now glowing at 1:28.
"You can stop, y’know," he says quietly while she's turning a page.
"D'you want me to?" she asks.
He should probably say yes — tell her to get some sleep, hang up the phone, do the same himself considering he has to be up in five hours and won’t even get the chance to nap while Abby’s at school because Vanessa's coming over.
"No," he whispers instead.
"Mkay."
She starts again, and this time Mike doesn’t even pretend to follow along. He lets her voice wash over him, slow and silky through the line. Sitting on the floor at nearly one-thirty in the morning listening to Vanessa read dream theory should probably feel a little more ridiculous, but he can’t bring himself to care.
On the other end, Vanessa stumbles over a word and gives a sleepy little groan. "Wait."
Mike smiles. "You lose your place?"
"No," she says immediately, and he can hear the lie in it.
He laughs, softer this time so it won’t carry down the hall. "Vanessa."
"Okay." She sniffles a little dramatically. "Maybe a little."
He tips his head to the side, wincing at the kink in his neck he can already feel forming. "You should go to bed."
"I am in bed," she says, and there’s a drowsy sort of smile in her voice that makes his stomach flip.
Mike presses his lips together against his own grin. "You know what I mean."
She makes a tiny humming sound, like she does know what he means but doesn’t really feel like admitting it. She starts reading again anyway, but she only gets a paragraph in before her words begin to trail. Mike listens to the pause stretch out, then another soft rustle and a tiny exhale.
"Vanessa?" he murmurs.
There's no answer. His eyes open slowly, and he waits a second, listening.
All he can hear is the soft crackly static of the line, but when he strains, he can hear the faint sound of breathing — her breathing.
Mike stares aimlessly in the dark and feels a fondness so sudden and aching it nearly makes him laugh. She fell asleep — still holding the book, probably, with the phone resting near her face on the pillow.
He sort of wishes he was there — not in a weird way, of course — so he could set the phone back on the receiver and put the book on her nightstand and just… be with her. It reminds him a little of when he would visit her in the hospital and just sit with her for hours, listening to the steady beeps on the machines and the chatter of nurses out in the hallway. He wishes he still had some form of that that wasn't weird or overstepping.
He stays on the floor for longer than he'd like to admit, listening to the faint rise and fall of her breath. It's so comforting to hear, even through the crackling phone line.
Eventually, he shifts to stand, his back cracking and knees popping from sitting on the floor for nearly an hour. He listens to make sure she's really asleep, and sighs quietly to himself.
"Goodnight, Vanessa," he whispers quietly, waiting a few seconds like he's expecting a reply. He's glad when he doesn't get one, and hopes she actually sleeps through the night. He finally hangs up, gently setting the phone back against the receiver, and blinks hard at the sudden burning in his eyes. He didn't even realize how tired he'd gotten while sitting there.
He drags himself to his bedroom, briefly popping his head in Abby's room to make sure she's okay, then collapses into bed half-asleep already.
The last thing on his mind as sleep washes over him is the thought of seeing Vanessa in the morning.
more works in progress of my beloved blonde princess with all the disorders, ft. facial studies that look nothing like her (bc ya girl struggling </3) and some paintings in procress :3c
Vanessa I love you & I hope you get an Amy Hughes level crashout as Vanny in the third movie; and even if you don't, I'm gonna make you have one in my fanfic <3
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