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Mickey maneuvered around his husband, who was moving around in the apartment like a whirlwind that morning. Ian was on edge, had been since the other day; today was his first day back as an EMT. It’d taken a lot of talk, lotta promises for him to get his old job back. Mickey had no fucking idea what Ian did to convince them all, especially considering the felony on his record. Whatever. He was damn proud of him.
Even if that meant he was awake alongside his husband. Iggy didn’t need him ‘till closer to eleven, so he would’ve been sleeping soundly if not for Ian making too much fucking noise while getting himself ready.
“You got time for a cup of coffee before you leave?” Mickey was already drinking out of his mug, leaning against the counter. He’d need a fuckton of caffeine to get through the rest of today, although he’d probably try to go back to bed once Ian left. There’d be enough time for that, although if that guy from next door kept dropping his weights on the floor while he weight lifted then he was going to find himself with his arms fucking snapped in half real quick.
“I can’t,” Ian said distractedly, weaving in and out of their bedroom to the bathroom, a toothbrush in the corner of his mouth muffled his words.
“You eat something?” The can’t take your meds on an empty stomach went unsaid.
He heard Ian spit into the sink, turning the faucet on. “Already did while your ass was sleeping. Took my meds too.”
“Alright.” Now that he paid attention, Mickey spotted the box of waffles thrown into the trash. “Yo, what do you want for dinner? We’ll celebrate after you get off.”
“I don’t know. Pizza, maybe?”
“Fine, but no fucking pineapple,” Mickey scowled. “I ain’t eating that shit.”
“Then get your own fucking pizza,” Ian said, coming out all dressed in his uniform. Mickey’s eyes swept down his body appreciatively. The fucker looked hot as hell, and those black pants-
Ass-O’clock in the morning and he had a boner.
Mickey took another drink, a smile tugging on his lips. Ian wasn’t aware of his staring, too busy straightening his jacket. “You nervous?”
Ian stopped messing with his jacket, meeting Mickey’s eyes fleetingly. “A little.”
“Don’t be.”
“I can’t help it, Mick,” Ian let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. “Rita told me this is my last chance. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“And you won’t,” Mickey assured him with confidence. “You’ll do fine, Red.”
“You think so?” Ian said, exhaling.
“Course I do. I-” He rubbed his eyebrow, “-believe in you and all that shit, okay? Go kick some ass.”
Ian grinned, his eyes widening when he spared a glance at the stove. “ Fuck . I have to go.”
He snatched up all his stuff, including the cheap lunchbox he’d bought and was on his way out the door when Mickey called out to him, making him pause.
“Aye, Sugar Tits! Forgetting something?”
Ian turned right around, realization crossing his face. He smiled apologetically, leaning in to kiss him sweetly, one hand on the back of his neck.
“Sorry. Love you. See you later!”
Mickey couldn’t stop the flush creeping up his face, coughing lightly. “Wasn’t what I was referring to.”
His husband’s eyebrows furrowed.
Mickey held out his hand, showing Ian the keys he’d almost forgotten. “You left these on the counter.”