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There was just something about Ian waking up in the morning.
Mickey knew he was being creepy, and if he'd ever caught Ian doing the same he'd mock him to no end. But for some reason Mickey couldn't help watching the other boy wake up. Maybe because it so very rarely happened, maybe because it so very rarely happened in the morning, in a bed, next to each other after having spend the night together, maybe because it so rarely happened when they had nowhere to actually be that day.
Mickey loved the way Ian's body was relaxed in his sleep, the muscles he had build up over the past year in seemingly stark contracts to the soft expression of his face. His hair was without product for once which made those ridiculous curls obvious that Ian seemed to hate so much and always straightened out of his hair. Mickey hadn't even known Ian had naturally curly hair until they had taken a shower together and Ian's hair had curled up as soon as he had toweled it dry.
"Not a word," he has muttered at the time and gone about plastering it down with hair gel. Much to Mickey's relief since the word cute had been on the tip of his tongue.
Mickey watched quietly until he noticed eyelashes fluttering open then squeezing shut tightly against the bright light coming from the window. It bathed the room in an soft orange glow, giving away the earliness of the morning.
Mickey let's his eyes wander over Ian's naked chest one last time as a yawn broke over Ian's face and his eyes blinked open completely.
"Morning," Ian murmured with a still sleep-raspy voice.
"Morning," Mickey answered quietly and leaned over to press a kiss to Ian's lips. They were soft and pliant and Mickey could feel them stretch into a smile under his.