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“Almost your time of the month again.” Ian stops with his thighs touching the back of Mickey's chair. He rests his hands on his shoulders, working his fingers into the tense muscle there.
“We ain't fuckin' callin' it that, like I'm some PMSing bitch.” Mickey leans back into the touch. His head falls back on the chair so he can scowl up at Ian, who simply leans down and kisses his scowl away with soft pecks, until Mickey's lips quirk up in a smile.
“Well, you do get pretty pissy. And you'd use it as an excuse to eat chocolate if you could.”
“I don't need no excuse, and it's only one night.”
“I guess.”
“And, y'know, the lining of my uterus ain't brutally shedding itself to exit through my vagina.”
“Alright. I didn't realise you were so passionate about periods.”
“I got a sister. I made a rag joke. I got educated real quick.”
“Mandy beat you up?”
“Ha. Like that bitch could beat me up.”
“She beat you up.” Ian nods, sympathetic, pressing into the knots at the back of Mickey's shoulders. He makes a soft sound and shifts beneath Ian's hands.
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe later.” Ian bends again, kissing Mickey's forehead this time. “You want some pancakes to go with that coffee?”
“Thought you'd never fuckin' ask.”
*
Mickey hands the cigarette back to Ian with a sigh.
“It time?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” Ian takes a drag. Watches Mickey step in the back door. It's later on summer evenings like this; when the light lingers longer, the full moon slower to appear. The heat of the day is still lingering.
The house is empty, so Mickey changes in the kitchen. Ian pushes the back door open when he hears the scratch, and Mickey bounds out to greet him with sloppy wolf kisses. He laughs, fingers pushing through the fur of Mickey's neck, catching his jaw and bringing their foreheads together. He rests against Mickey for a moment, eyes closed, enjoying their closeness. As he moves away, he presses a kiss to the side of Mickey's snout.
“There's my good boy.”
Mickey pants happily. He leaps down the steps and runs a small circle around the back garden. When he comes to a halt in front of Ian again, he makes a show of chasing his tail. Ian laughs. He kills the butt of his cigarette and tosses it away, holding a hand out to Mickey. He licks Ian's fingertips, ducks down and butts his head against his palm until Ian rubs him behind the ears. His back leg twitches, thumping against the ground once, twice, three times.
“Moon is beautiful tonight.”
Mickey whines. He follows Ian's gaze, tilting his head sideways as he looks up at the orb in the sky. Now that it has appeared, it seems particularly close; big and yellow-white, a cold glow of light surrounding it. A spotlight beam in the otherwise murky sky. Mickey tips his head back and howls, long and loud. Ian laughs. Mickey howls again. Ian springs forward, gently making a muzzle out of his hands to close around Mickey's snout.
“Shut up,” he murmurs, but his voice is entirely affectionate. Mickey playfully snaps at his hand, breaking away and running a circle around Ian. Ian gives chase, and they do sprinting laps of the garden until he's breathless.
Mickey follows him inside. Ian takes a long drink of water, then sets a bowl down for Mickey. He laps at it with enthusiasm. When he's done, the fur around his mouth is damp, little droplets of water clinging to the hairs. His tongue lolls out and his tail wags; lazily pleased. Ian scratches his head as he makes his way to the stairs. Mickey follows, bumping Ian's ankle with his nose as they head upstairs.
“Hey, so, I got Debbie to lend me some of her books. Thought you'd be interested in them.”
Mickey tilts his head in silent question, and Ian knows he's wondering what that means, because the only reading material Mickey takes interest in is those awful gossip mags. Ian leans across, opens his bedside drawer, and pulls out Twilight. Mickey growls, teeth bared and ears flat. Ian laughs.
“Well, tough shit, Jacob, that's what we're reading.” He flops onto his back on the bed and starts reading. “I'd never given much thought to how I would die-”
Mickey leaps onto the bed and takes the book between his teeth, still growling as he tries to pull it from Ian's grasp.
“Hey! Drop it.”
Mickey's eyes flick up. Meet Ian's. He hesitates briefly, before releasing the book. He huffs through his nose, making his irritation clear.
“Yeah yeah. Anyway, where were we?”
Mickey continues his rumbling growl of protest through the preface, but Ian goes on reading as if he can't hear, voice calm and steady. Eventually, Mickey gives up. He bumps the bottom of the book with his nose, repeating the action until Ian lifts it and lets him come forward. He rests his paws over the crook of Ian's elbow, resting his head on top of them. Ian grins. He tightens his hold around Mickey, tangling his fingers in his fur. Readjusting the book in his other hand, he props it against his knee and continues to read until Mickey's breathing evens out into soft, rumbling snores.