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Mickey never took taxis; they were a waste of money when he had two perfectly good legs and if they failed, there was always the train. Today though, in the middle of New York City, he needed a taxi because he had no fucking clue where he was going and New York seemed to be one giant mess of people moving in different directions.
He and Ian were on holiday in New York for a week; Ian had been insistent that they get away together and after 5 years of being a couple, Mickey had to agree that it was nice to be away from everything. Not that there was much to get away from – with Terry in prison, both Mickey and his brothers were on the straight and narrow now. Well, Mickey thought with a quick grin, Mickey wasn't so straight. Mandy had even returned home. Things couldn't be better, but, Ian had implored, they'd never been on holiday together and it would be fun. And yeah, Mickey fucking loved having a hotel room where no one could hear them going at it – especially seeing as back home, Yev was staying with them every other weekend. But this place was hectic, stressful and just constantly busy everywhere they went.
That morning Ian had gotten up early for a run and had then rung Mickey to ask him to meet him at the park for some reason or another. Mickey had been too half asleep to really listen. Now, though, he was sitting in the back of a taxi and this guy, this fucking guy, wouldn't turn his stereo down. The song playing was full of guitar strums and a soft voice, and fuck it if Mickey wasn't enjoying it a little bit but it was so early in the morning.
“Ay, can you turn that down just a little man?” Mickey called through to the front. The driver turned round and gave Mickey a smile before turning it up a bit. Mickey groaned slightly and sat back in his seat. Hopefully the drive wasn't too much further.
“You never heard this music before, dude?” The guy asked and Mickey shook his head, glancing out the window as they stopped at a light. “This guy is the future of music, dude.”
“I'm sure he is, dude.” Mickey muttered as the song came to an end. He closed his eyes as the car started moving again and the next song started. The song was clearly a favourite of the driver; he'd turned it up further before the song had even begun properly. Mickey listened carefully; this was not his type of music, not at all, and if this was the 'future of music'...well, it wasn't nearly heavy enough for him. But something about this song was catching him, and he found himself enjoying it.
And oh I've known it for the longest time
And all of my hopes
All of my own words
Are all over written on the signs
When you're on my road
Walking me home
See the flames inside my eyes
It burns so bright I wanna feel your love
Easy baby maybe I'm a liar
But for tonight I wanna fall in love
Put your faith in my stomach
I messed up this time
Late last night
Drinking to suppress devotion
With fingers intertwined
I can't shake this feeling now
We're going through the motions
Hoping you'd stop
Mickey sat up a little straighter, opening his eyes and tapping out the beat on his knee with his fingers. The driver glanced in his rear view mirror and smiled knowingly. Mickey grumbled to himself and shook his head. Fuck him, he was enjoying it.
And ohhh I've only caused you pain
I know but all of my words will always below
Of all the love you spoke
When you're on my road
Walking me home
See the flames inside my eyes
It burns so bright I wanna feel your love
Easy baby maybe I'm a liar
But for tonight I wanna fall in love
Put your faith in my stomach
And for how long, I love, my lover
For how long I love my lover
The words towards the end started repeating themselves, the beat picking up and the singer's voice getting more and more intense. Mickey tapped his foot to the beat now, his fingers tapping out on his knee and his head bobbing slightly as the tempo picked up. All at once it was slowing down again, the song coming to an end. The soft voice of whoever was singing ended the song, and Mickey found himself disappointed. He had no idea what it had been about that song, but he wanted to hear more. As if reading his mind, the driver started the same song again.
“Who – uh, who is this singing?” Mickey asked loudly over the music and the driver turned it right down, grinning again.
“Ed Sheeran. Pretty good with a guitar. Ginger haired dude.”
Ah. That was probably it. Because fuck knows Mickey has a thing about red heads; he probably sensed it through the fucking speakers. Mickey nodded and the sound was turned back up. He could get used to this; the sound was easy to listen to, relaxing even. Before he knew it, however, they were pulling up to the address Mickey had given him, and Ian was standing outside with a dorky fucking grin on his face. Jesus, Mickey didn't get tired of that face.
“That who you're meeting, dude? I get it now.” The driver said, accepting the cash Mickey had handed over. After a questioning look from Mickey, the driver continued. “Ed Sheeran is a redhead. Your dude is a redhead. He looks like a keeper.”
Mickey glanced outside where Ian was now glancing at his phone and acting as if he was more impatient than he actually was. Mickey grinned. “He is.”
He stepped out of the cab with a smile on his face, and Ian picked up on the weird mood almost immediately. Mickey put his arm around Ian, pulling him in close in a gesture that five years ago he wouldn't have been caught dead doing. Ian kissed the top of his head and looked at him carefully.
“What's up with you?”
“You ever hear of a guy called Ed Sheeran?”