Work Text:
Day 3: Sunrise
After his diagnosis, Ian’s doctor had told him that exercise and a healthy diet went a long way in keeping his body and mind balanced. What that meant to Mickey was that his boyfriend went right back to the chipper, energetic morning-person he’d been before the first depressive low hit him (albeit with the help of many different drugs).
That included taking 5am runs every single fucking morning.
Each night before going to sleep, Ian would ask Mickey to join him on his run the following morning, but the brunette would decline every time. He was not a runner, and even if he had been in shape, he was not going to wake up at the crack of dawn to do it. But Ian was a persistent son of a bitch, and he never stopped asking…
One morning, Mickey woke up early‒earlier than Ian, who was still asleep beside him. He could hear his son crying from the other room but shut his eyes and pressed his face deeper into the pillow in an attempt to ignore it. Svetlana must have gotten to the kid because when Mickey opened his eyes again a few minutes later, the house was silent.
He turned his head and looked at Ian over his shoulder, his outline visible from the soft moonlight that shone through the window. They were close, their bodies pressed against each other, and Mickey could feel Ian’s chest rise and fall ever-so-slightly with each slow breath.
Mickey didn’t know how long he lied there, awake beside his sleeping boyfriend, enjoying the peaceful silence. It was a moment of utter ease and comfort that Mickey didn’t want to end.
It was still dark when the alarm on Ian’s phone started playing it’s fucking annoying tune, bells and chimes getting louder each second that it continued ringing. He felt the redhead begin to stir, and then the inevitable cold air that snuck in when Ian pulled away to turn the alarm off.
Mickey lazily rolled from his side to his back and watched Ian as the younger boy got up and wordlessly pulled his sweatpants on.
Before they’d gone to sleep the previous night, Ian had again asked Mickey to running with him, and the disappointment in Ian’s eyes at hearing Mickey’s ‘no’ flashed in Mickey’s mind. How could he continue letting his boyfriend down?
“Alright, Firecrotch,” Mickey said gruffly, scratching at his belly. He cleared his throat and continued, “I’ll go with you, but don’t expect me to stop and watch the fucking sunrise.”
Ian’s giant grin was all the reassurance Mickey needed to know he’d made the right decision.