Work Text:
Cheek
/CHēk/ noun
either side of the face below the eye
“God, it looks like the boy's room back when Carl was a teenager” Ian stood in the bedroom’s door frame in their westside apartment. What seemed to be hundreds of tissues littered Mickey’s nightstand, overflowing onto the wooden floor and under their bed frame. Ian stepped in the small trash can from their bathroom under his arm.
He began picking them up and throwing them in like they were radioactive. Mickey was laying on Ian’s side of the bed, miserably. His face smooshed into the ginger’s pillow. Just a tuft of dark hair sticking up could be seen from the several blankets wrapped around his body. Ian could tell his husband was beginning to stir awake, his breathing getting heavier as he came to. Mickey muttered something, opening his eyes just enough to follow Ian’s movements.
Ian had realised that he had never really seen Mickey sick before. Not when they were kids on the Teeball team, not when he was bent over in the back freezer at the Kash and Grab, not in prison or when they lived with the Gallagher’s, nothing. Even amid the pandemic when the rest of the family was bedridden and struggling to breathe, Mickey was unscathed. Maybe a cough once, a sneeze here and there but never a full-blown sickness. Not until that moment. The thing to take down Mickey Milkovich was two young boys with a common cold.
Ian had been sick a few times during their decade long relationship, Mickey did the best to help him through it, so of course, Ian was beyond ready to return the favour for his husband. Except, Mickey was much more of a pain in the ass than Ian ever was. Any guard to act strong and need to defiantly refuse assistance was gone out the window. He was whiny, fussy and unsettlingly needy. Any pride Mickey had upholding his ‘rough-around-the-edges’ image was completely gone as he asked his husband to cuddle him for the fifth time.
Mickey let out a more throaty groan, his words still unperceivable.
“What was that, mumbles?” Ian took a few more tissues, throwing them in with the collection.
Mickey opened his mouth to say something, instead of words, three sneezes ripped through his body.
“Aye! Cover your mouth patient zero”
Mickey sneezed again, Ian’s hand beating his to grab a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “Freddie was patient zero” he grumbled blowing his nose before dropping the tissue into the can. “Those fucking nephews of ours” Mickey coughed, this time making the vaguest attempt to cover his mouth not wanting to get reprimanded. “This is why kids suck. Messy germy little freaks”
“Aw, is my sicky Mickey upset?” Ian teased. His finger tilted up his husband’s chin. Their eyes locked for a moment before Ian’s hand rose to his forehead, his long fingers hitting Mickey in the eye in the process.
“Asshole” Mickey flinched from the impact. Ian chose to ignore him. “You don’t have a fever so I guess I was right about the cold bath”.
Mickey would have given him the finger if he had the strength, instead, he settled from backing into his blanket cocoon away from Ian’s touch. He then immediately resurfaced when he realised he wanted his husband's gentle embrace. “Yeah and I think it made my dick go back in me too” Mickey grumbled again, not amused when Ian chuckled.
“Yeah, well, no fever. It worked,” Ian reminded him, leaning forward to place a small soft kiss on his cheek.
“That was a pussy kiss” Mickey muttered, annoyed, the last few days Ian had refused to kiss him under the reasoning “we can’t both be out of work” .
“Kiss me for real, you fucker” Mickey’s head weakly raised in an attempt to chase Ian’s lips. When he realised he didn’t have the strength to do so he settled with a sigh, puckering his lips expectantly.
“I don’t want your germs, Mick” Ian reminded, already across the room to get Mickey some more Vapour rub as his request sounded a little too gravely for Ian’s liking.
“Get my germs? Ian, you were in me like two nights ago” Mickey’s hoarse voice rose, coughing fit following from the effort it took.
Ian simply shrugged. “Sorry, can’t” he couldn’t help but smile at the vulnerability. How sincerely pissed Mickey seemed that his husband wouldn’t kiss his lips.
“Shut up and sit up” Ian followed, sitting on the side of the edge of the bed so he could get better access to his husband. Mickey rolled his eyes at the request.
“Not movin’ till you kiss me” The two had a staredown, finally with a sigh Ian leaned forward, Mickey closing his eyes in cocky success. Ian moved past his mouth, kissing Mickey’s other rosy, pillow pressed cheek.
“I fucking hate you” Mickey tried to shove Ian off of him to no prevail, instead Ian helped lifted him so he was half-sitting. They stayed quiet, besides a few coughs. Ian got a glob of vapour-rub from the container, his hand snaking up Mickey’s chest beneath the fabric of his soft blue shirt so he could rub it in.
“Thanks,” Mickey said small, avoiding Ian’s eyes that were now on his. “For taking care of me and shit. No one’s ever done this before”
Ian gave his husband a sad smile, rubbing the small patch of chest hair once more before leaning in to kiss his cheek again. “You're welcome, but I’m still not kissin’ you till you're better”.
This time Mickey was successful flipping him off as Ian lowered him back to a lying position. Ian eyed him one last time, making sure he was comfortable before turning back around and grabbing the trashcan again.
“Where are you going man?”
“Got to go pick up your medicine”
“No, get back into bed, I’m getting the shivers again”
“Ok, I’ll get you in the shower before I go” Ian called his bluff. Mickey blinked at him.
“Ian,” Mickey sounded much more defeated, his eyes runny and sad. Ian stared at him for a second then made his decision.
He dropped the trashcan on the floor, tissues spurting back out onto the hardwood floor. He would pick them up later.
“Fine, you big baby” Ian rolled his eyes fondly. “Sandy’s already doing the pickups for the day, I’ll ask her if she can pick up some cough syrup while she’s at it”. Ian could detect the smallest smile spreading across his husband’s cheeks. “Scoot over” he made his way to the other side of the bed. Mickey did as instructed, feeling victorious at his request getting fulfilled.
“Hey, um Mick? You know you don’t have to thank me for helping you out” Ian settled into bed, pulling a few blankets off of Mickey’s mound to cover himself. His arms immediately wrapped around Mickey to spoon him, bodies incredibly close as they shared the same pillow. “Sickness and health ‘member” he repeated the phrase his husband had told him every time Ian felt under the weather.
Mickey accepted that as a fact. “Can I kiss your hand or are you gonna yell at me for that too?” Ian laughed.
“I’ll allow it”. Before the sentence was even out, chapped lips ghosted over Ian’s knuckles before he placed a few pecks. Ian returned the favour, leaned forward giving Mickey a final wet kiss on the cheek. “Stop slobberin me” Mickey whined, hand reaching up to rub the wet patch away.
“Though that’s what you wanted, baby” Ian’s voice was teasing but Mickey chose not to push it, the serenity in the way he said baby kept him from growing mad.
The two laid there, Ian’s eyes fluttering close at the soft sound of Mickey’s breathing evening out despite the fact his nose was clogged. He felt Mickey trying to shift in his embrace so he loosened his grasp slightly. “I wanna lay against your chest” he could barely make out the noise but smiled, helping Mickey’s tired body switch sides. Mickey’s head fell upon Ian’s chest heavily enough that the taller man let out a huff at the impact. Ian ran a hand through Mickey’s hair, letting him settle in comfortably. His fingers then wandered down to his lover's cheek, patting it once then twice a little harder just for the sake of messing with him. “Stop it” Mickey grumbled, eyes closed tight.
Ian repeated the movement. Mickey grumbled again “go to sleep” he smacked his lips, a yawn falling in between the movement. Ian decided that he had chastised him enough that evening and did as requested, arm falling to grab Mickey’s shoulder, holding him tight. They stayed still till Mickey coughed again. Then the dark-haired man's arm, closest to Ian’s body, blindly reached up until it stayed secure on Ian’s cheek. “Wait, look at me for a sec” Ian peeled one of his eyes open looking down at Mickey’s pleading glare.
Ian felt as Mickey’s hand settled onto his own freckled cheeks. Then there was a forceful pull down to Mickey’s level. Before Ian could even register what happened, Mickey’s lips were on his. A purposefully slobbery, definitely germy kiss broke with an audible noise. Cheek kisses were for pussies, Mickey wanted the real thing.