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It was two week after he had met Ian again, they were laying on bed, Ian’s arm wrapped tightly around Mickey’s body, the heat oozing off him. Ian cracked his eyes open, slowly blinking, adjusting his eyes to the light coming from the window. He was pleased to find Mickey still beside him, warm and well, like Mickey. His head was buried into the pillow, his body half on his stomach, half on his side, his arm tangling out of the bed and legs curled up in fetal position.
Ian chuckles lightly and buries his head on the crook of Mickey’s neck, giving a lingering kiss to the side of Mickey’s neck, drawing out an grumpy snore like sound out of Mickey. First thing Ian noticed about the adult Mickey was that he wasn’t what you call a morning person, he was grumpy was fuck, eyes shooting daggers and mouth fixed as a frown. But Ian liked it, a lot.
“Morning monkey.” Ian teases, smiling against Mickey’s neck.
He hears Mickey yawning and mumbling something, clearly annoyed.
“Wanna mumble that again monkey?” Ian pokes.
Mickey quickly turns to face Ian, annoyed as hell. His glare's evil and rugged. He smacks Ian lightly on the side.
“I fucking told you, DON’T call me monkey.” He says irritated.
“Nah, you love it.” Ian says and smiles in a way that melts Mickey’s insides.
Damn, the fuckers good. Mickey does secretly love when Ian calls him that, but only when it’s Ian.
Ian kisses the top of Mickeys head. “Want coffee?” And Mickey nods. “Sure.”
Ian makes his way to the kitchen and gets the coffee and the mugs. And he knows exactly where everything is, he doesn’t have to search for things anymore.
The thing is Ian never really left. Two weeks ago when Mickey brought him home from the club. He left, sure he left for work and occasionally stopped by his place to get fresh, clean clothes, but that was about it. Ian probably had more of his clothes at Mickey’s than at his own place. They never talked about it though. Ian kept bringing his things into Mickey’s place, and Mickey didn’t really notice, not even when Ian brought his own toothbrush. It was just too easy to fall into this, whatever it was, with Ian. Because whenever Ian was around, Mickey felt happy, and he wasn’t about to destroy it. He didn’t try to argue with himself that it was stupid or hasty, if it feels right, then it is right. He had always wanted Ian in some conscious level and now he had him.
Mickey finally made his way to the kitchen, taking the mug Ian had placed for him in the counter. They locked eyes and smiled at each other, not saying a word. Ian starts taking the filter out of the coffee machine and plans on throwing it in the trash, but it’s already full.
“You didn’t take the trash out.” He informs Mickey and somehow shoves the filter into the trashcan.
Mickey coughs and shoot Ian a confused look, his eyebrows high and tongue twirling around the corner of his mouth.
“Since when are you in a position to tell me when I should take my trash out. Man, you don’t live here and we ain’t dating.” Words came out of Mickey’s mouth harsher than he had intended.
Who is he kidding, they are a couple, by every fucking standard there is. And he wants that, it’s just the admitting it out loud-part, he doesn't like. He frowns and fixes his eyes on the floor, afraid to look at Ian, fearing that Ian’s gonna look sad and confused, and maybe even angry. But instead, Ian laughs.
“Yeah, I do. I totally do.” He looks smug and sips his coffee, leaning against the counter. It makes Mickey relax again.
“Ha, says who?” Mickey jokes.
“Says my toothbrush on the bathroom.” Ian smirks back.
“What are you talking about? What toothbrush?” Mickey asks.
“MY toothbrush, which I brought in a week ago.”
“What?” Mickey clears out, again.
“Guess you were too hung up on the daily pleasure I was and am giving to you, that you didn’t even notice.” Ian winks at him. “Admit it, you like it.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey says, but without any heat behind it.
Mickey’s amazed where they have gotten in just two weeks, it’s like they have been doing this forever, being together. It all so natural with Ian.
“Huh, well since you’re nesting in here. You take out the fucking trash.” Mickey says with a shit-eating grin.
“Wow, hold on a minute.” Ian laughs, trying to wiggle himself out of the pit he dug. “You just said that I don’t live here, sooo, trash isn’t my responsibility.” He huffs out, hands by his side, in a surrendering mode.
“You’re such a fucking clown, ain’t ya?” Mickey grins and motions towards the door. “Chop, chop, you feisty redhead, off you go.”
Ian looks at Mickey with puppy dog eyes, his eyes drifting towards the PS3 console behind Mickey.
“Best out of three?” Ian shrugs, trying to look as pleading as possible.
“You’re on fuckhead.” Mickey laughs, and races to grab the better controller and pushing in a Tekken 6.
He puts the game on vs battle and selects Lee Chaolan for himself (cos Mickey thinks he’s hot) and Steve Fox for Ian. They always play with these characters.
Ian grabs a seat beside Mickey and takes the other controller.
They look at each other with smug looks on their faces.
“I’m gonna wipe the floor with your ass.” Ian says.
Mickey presses start and the fight begins.
“You wish ginger, even though that’s not a bad idea, I’d be totally down with you tossing MY ass around.” Mickeys says, teasingly and playfully. Breaking the train of Ian’s concentration. And Mickey gets in a killer combo.
“You wanna play dirty, huh? Well since I’m the adult here, I’m not gonna fall for that.” Ian says, grinning.
“You, an adult?” Mickey laughs.
But Ian wins the first round, and the second and then the third.
“Fuck!” Mickey yells and tosses the controller on the floor. “Fuck you man.”
Ian smiles and leans back on the sofa, his hands tugged behind his head.
“Deal’s a deal, off you pop.” Ian teases.
Grudgingly Mickey stands up, mumbling something about cheating to Ian, and go to the kitchen to get the trash, swings the front door open and slams it shut.
Ian’s still laying on the sofa when Mickey returns, he sits down beside Ian, and looks at the floor.
“You seriously want that?” He gulps.
“Want what?” Ian speaks up.
“You know, live here or some shit?” Mickey nibbles his finger while he speaks.
“Yeah, sure.” Ian nods, but when he gets it, he smiles. “Was that an invitation to move in? Like reeeeally move in?”
Mickey flips him off.
“Whatever man, look, I get it if ya don’t wanna…” But Ian cuts him off by jumping into his lap, straddling Mickey. Ian brings his hands to cup Mickey’s face.
“Of course I wanna move in.” He says, smiling more genially than Mickey’s ever seen Ian smile.
Mickey closes the distance between them and presses his lips on Ian’s.
Ian murmurs something into the kiss, but Mickey keeps just kissing him more aggressive and more needing, his hands roaming around Ian’s back.
Ian pulls back a little, trying to catch his breath.
“I’m gonna hang onto my place for a while though. Just in case, but I’ll bring all my things here, okay?”
“Fair enough.” Mickeys huffs out.
“I’m suddenly hungry for some breakfast and I don’t mean poptarts.” Ian winks at Mickey, and he lets out an long ‘oooh’ sound.