Work Text:
Mickey Milkovich was standing in the kitchen of his one bedroom apartment in the Northside of Chicago, watching as big drops of rain hit the kitchen window while waited for the coffee to run through the machine.
It was September, the last days of summer were just over and it seemed like he hadn't seen the sun in quite a while.
He smiled, as two arms wrapped around his upper body and a kiss was planted in the crook of his neck.
„Morning,“ Ian mumbled and rested his head on his boyfriends shoulder. Mickey stroked one of his hands gently and leaned back against the taller boys chest.
„Sleep well?“
„Very.“
They stood quietly for a while, watching the rain drop down onto the city, the dark clouds painting the sky in all shades of grey.
Mickey reached for Ians hands, trying to pull him closer when something threw him off.
„What are you wearing?“ Ian turned him around, a small smile on his face.
Mornings were when Mickey thought his boyfriend was most beautiful. Puffy eyes and red lips from chewing on them in his sleep, made him look so worriless and carefree, it made Mickeys knees weak and his stomach flip from the overwhelming happiness he felt when seeing the redhead this way.
„It's a hoodie, Mick.“
He gave Mickey a confused look and turned around to grab milk from the fridge. It wasn't that Mickey didn't know what a sweater was, it was just that usually Ian didn't even bother wearing a shirt after getting out of bed. Not that he would have wanted him to. It was definitely a nice sight while having breakfast.
„I know it's a hoodie, dumbass. Why are you wearing it, though? Thought you didn't like anything longer than a t-shirt?“
„I'm cold. Summer's over now and I'm already freezing my balls off.“
Mickey furrowed his brows and grabbed the sugar bowl from the table. „No, don't do that. I like your balls.“
The redhead laughed and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. The sweater was a little too big and was covering almost all of his hands. Ian walked over and pulled Mickey into another kiss, before pouring coffee into the mugs and heading to the living room. The older man rolled his eyes and followed.
„There anything wrong with the kitchen table or are you too cold to drink your coffee there?“ He returned Ians grin and sat down on the other side of the sofa, grabbing his drink from his boyfriends hand.
„No,“ Ian protested and pulled lightly on the sleeve of Mickeys T-shirt „come here. Sit with me!“
Mickey scooted closer and let the redhead pull him between his legs, so he was sitting in front of him, using him as a backrest.
„What's gotten you so cuddly today?“ Mickey asked, chuckling when Ian tossed a blanket on top of them, dipping his fingers underneath his shirt.
They were icecold, burning against his warm skin, but he didn't mind. Ian shrugged and pressed a kiss on the back of Mickeys head.
„It's what sundays were invented for, Mick. Cuddling and sappy make-out sessions. It even says so in the bible; By the seventh day God completed His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work, grabbed his special lady and smooched until he could smooch no more. Something like that.“
Mickey chortled, suffocating on the sip of coffee he had just put in his mouth.
„You're so fucking stupid, Gallagher.“
„I love you, too.“
Mickey smiled, running his fingers over Ians leg next to him as they stared out the window. The rain hadn't slowed down one bit, occasionally you could see lightning strike somewhere in the distance and the low growling of thunder sounded through the apartment in small intervalls.
„Fall's starting soon. You know what that means, right?“ Ian asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper.
Mickey didn't know but he was too comfortable and cuddled in to even move a muscle. He didn't have to, because Ian proceeded without his repsonse.
„It means so much cuddling and drinking tea and watching movies. It's everything you hate and you're gonna love every minute of it!“
As if to underline his statement, Ian put their mugs on the small table in front of the couch and pulled Mickey even closer, burying his nose in his boyfriends dark hair.
„I don't hate cuddling,“ Mickey scoffed, eyes closed appreciatively while Ian ran his hands up and down his sides.
He let it happen for a while, then turned around to face Ian.
„Can we get to the making out part now?“