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The slight shuffling next to him is what wakes Ian first. Without opening his eyes, he knows its Mickey fumbling around in the room, muttering curses in whispers, and in habit he reaches his hand out to grasp at him. “Mickey…come back to bed.”
“Can’t,” Mickey simply states, despite wanting to get back into bed with Ian badly, and he playfully swats Ian’s desperate hand away, “Gotta go the Alibi. Kev will have my ass if I’m late again.”
Ian’s eyes flutter open, observing Mickey as he quickly pulled on three layers of clothing. Ian whines, actually whines, and releases a noise from the back of the throat that only resembles that of a child. He gives Micky grabby hands, pout resting at his lips. “Please.”
Mickey finishes pulling on his oversized jacket before leaning over Ian to plant a soft kiss at the top of his head. “I’ll be gone for four hours tops, you’ll be fine, Gallagher.” He then proceeds to pull on his boots, attempting to ignore Ian’s screwed up face beside him. Ian Gallagher was infact a child, and Mickey would usually fall into the temptation of having his husband’s arms wrapped around him, but he couldn’t resist losing the only decent job he had since his parole.
“Fine.” Ian mutters, stroppy. He crosses his arms over and turns away from Mickey.
Mickey watched as his man-child of a husband sulked towards the window, and as amused as he felt, he did try to repress the incoming guilt that shadowed his expression. He sighs heavily, unable to dismiss Ian’s trickery that worked every single goddamn time, and he jumps onto the bed fully clothed but with gentle intentions, nonetheless. Softly, he says, “Alright, five more minutes. Then, I’ve got to get the fuck outta here.”
As Mickey begins to wrap his body around Ian’s back, the redhead turns with a proud smirk, beaming in accomplishment. He was such a sneaky basturd. Mickey knew this, of course, but it only made his heart grow fonder. Ian pulls Mickey towards him, his bare chest against the itchiness of Mickey’s clothing, and hums with satisfaction.
“You happy now?” Mickey asks, falling way too comfortable in the embrace.
Ian nods against Mickey’s chest, smile still curled up, and he mummers sleepily, “Very happy.”
The five minutes go by too quickly. Mickey doesn’t want to move; Ian wouldn’t let him considering his dead weight pinned him down now that he was fast asleep. Mickey could deal with being a few more minutes late, Kev would just have to deal with that.