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Blanket
/ˈblaNGkət/ noun
a large piece of woollen or similar material used as a bed covering or other covering for warmth.
Mickey had always had a relatively hard time falling asleep. He had been on high alert mode for all of his life. A habit that deemed itself hard to get rid of. In the recent years, he had gotten a lot better at going to bed than he ever did in his life, that was for sure. That started somewhere around when he was nineteen. The Gallaghers, as annoying pain in the asses they were, offered a much more safe space to live than his own house.
Even now he figured sleeping was much easier than it was even a few years ago. Still, Mickey found himself watching over Ian peacefully drifting off most nights before he could even manage to close his eyes. There was something primitive there. Maybe it was much simpler than that, just his second nature.
He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he loved watching Ian sleep. It just brought him great peace. After years of dealing with Ian’s manic stints, seeing him asleep and well was about the most relaxing reassurance the man could have. That and he liked how soft Ian’s expression was when he was completely gone. His mouth would hang open sometimes. He had drooled all over Mickey a few times. Which Mickey did think was kinda gross. He always gave his husband a side eye when he woke up with a wet spot on the middle of his chest. He guessed that wasn’t completely fair considering the number of bodily fluids from the man he had ingested over the years.
Nonetheless, droll and all, Mickey really did have a soft spot for watching Ian sleep. Except for that night, he was grouchy. Downright enviest his husband was sound asleep and he wasn’t.
That built-up resentment was a few nights in the making. Mickey had been struggling to fall asleep every night that week. He had absolutely no idea as to why he was being plagued with sudden insomnia.
They had been in their apartment for over a month at that point. They had even fixed the moonlight problem. The landlord lady seemed to be at her wit's end with Ian and Mickey despite their new residence. She took great issue with their makeshift garbage bag curtains. She demanded they tear them down the second she realised her first warning to them wasn’t being followed. She was back the next day with a passive-aggressive smile and a pair of cotton curtains she claimed was a ‘home warming’ gift. The nice white cotton curtains actually did a hell of a good job making the room dark.
The light was no longer the problem but silence still got to him. Mickey couldn’t stand how eerily quiet and ‘peaceful’ the Westside proved itself to be. He usually wore headphones to sleep. Found videos of gunshots and bustling streets, that usually had him knocked out in a few minutes flat.
Except he didn’t have headphones anymore.
Carl had found some mangy mutt one day on his metre maid duties. He said he tried to just let the thing be but with every step Carl took, the dog followed.
Carl took the dog home. Debbie was pretty pissed he let the indigent creature into the home. While she and Carl fought about keeping the dog, he had asked Ian and Mickey to watch him. He apparently won against Debbie’s protest and since Slim Jim Shady -perhaps the dumbest fucking name Mickey had ever heard in his entire life- was pronounced the newest Gallagher.
They had been watching Slim for just a few hours that afternoon while Carl helped Arthur out at the bar since Debbie said the dog wasn’t allowed in the house unattended, her apparent compromise. Ian and Mickey really had no problem watching the dog for a few hours. Carl was paying them and having a dog around was a new and kinda interesting feat. The dog on the other hand seemed to have a problem with the unfamiliar environment.
The second they had taken their eyes off of him, the mutt hid. It took them a whole hour to find Slim. They eventually did. Slim Jim had managed to find a hole in the bottom of their mattress, climbing in under the bed. While he was there he found a great chew toy in the chord of Mickey’s headphones.
Mickey was still pissed at Carl. even angrier then as he laid in bed not an inkling of sleepiness. He blamed his brother-in-law way more than the dog for what it was worth.
He let a huff out of his nose and in doing so he made the only noise in the room. He couldn’t help but focus on how uncomfortable he was. Cold mostly despite the fact that he had stolen the blanket from Ian. His husband didn’t seem to mind, he was always a furnace, hot to the touch most days.
Mickey figured maybe that's why he couldn’t fall asleep. He pulled the covers up higher, covering his entire face. After a few minutes, the dark-haired man was finding it hard to breathe under the sheets. Plus, his plan hadn’t even worked, he was practically shivering from how incredibly cold he stayed.
He broke free from under the covers, pushing them down past his chest. He flipped to his left side, away from Ian before deciding he was uncomfortable and flipping back towards his husband. That wasn’t much better either, so he decided maybe his back. That’s how Ian always slept and he was probably fast asleep at that point so maybe his method was worth a shot.
Mickey flipped around a few more times before he felt Ian’s hand reach out trying to grab him.
“Mickey, go to sleep” Ian whined, his hand was pressed flat against Mickey’s upturned stomach stopping him from flipping again.
“I’m fucking trying”
“Could have fooled me”
Mickey grumbled to himself. He waited for Ian to retract his hand. Once he did, Mickey completely ripped the sheets off of Ian in an act of defiance. Mickey waited for Ian to reprimand him again but nothing came. Ian seemed to have given up on lecturing him, too tired to entertain it. He still did voice his distaste with a throaty groan every time Mickey moved though.
Mickey chose to ignore his husband, settling on his left-hand side. He was completely covered in goosebumps at that point. He really was fucking cold. They had central AC now which was new. They honestly had no clue how to use it. No clue what they needed to set it at in order for their apartment to be a normal temperature. Mickey definitely wasn’t about to get up and try and figure it out at that moment.
He looked back at Ian, his hand was right next to him, he could feel how warm he was. Mickey sighed. He rolled over to his other side. Ian had rolled over too, probably trying to better ignore his husband.
Mickey gave him back some of the blankets, his temper tantrum over. He then got as close to his husband as he could, slowly like he was trying not to get caught, he extended his arm outward, wrapping around Ian’s mid, he was about to skootch closer when he heard Ian speak up again.
“What are you doing?”
The question stopped dead in his tracks.
Mickey didn’t say anything. He relaxed his face once he realised he had squished up his features. Slowly, he extended his arm past Ian’s stomach.
“Are you trying to cuddle?” The smirk was evident in Ian’s voice.
“Fuck you is what I’m trying to do” Mickey was glad Ian’s eyes were still closed, unable to see the pink immediately flushing his cheeks.
He didn’t know why he was suddenly so embarrassed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t cuddled before. A few times when they were still boys Mickey would wake up to Ian’s arms wrapped around him. He figured maybe it was the fact that Ian was calling it out that was making Mickey a little uncomfortable. Any time they were unapologetically tender with one another it had been organic, just kinda happened.
Mickey was also stubborn. No way in hell was he about to ask Ian to cuddle him. That felt humiliating. He knew Ian would, there was no doubt about that in his head. He knew that Ian would immediately oblige. He probably wouldn’t even say anything, much to Mickey’s gratitude. Still, he couldn’t find the strength within himself to just fucking ask.
He huffed instead, his body scootching closer to Ian’s back. He prayed that Ian was just going to let him pull his arm over. Let him settle with his head pressed against Ian’s upturned shoulder.
“I’m fucking cold” Mickey muttered, still trying to tug Ian’s arm from his side so he could grab onto him. Ian didn’t budge any, Mickey could swear he saw the motherfucker’s mouth twitch up at the ends like he was trying desperately to not smile.
“Ian” Mickey called out, chewing the inside of his cheek. There was no response, Ian just gave a deep sigh, shifting a little like he was about to fall back asleep.
Mickey was not gonna stand for that, he hit Ian's arm. Admittedly much harder than he needed to. He just needed an outlet for getting his growing frustration out somewhere.
“Ow,” Ian grumbled, his free hand reaching over to rub over the lingering sting. “What the fuck was that for?”
“You ignoring me” Mickey was quick with an answer.
“Hmph” Ian finally opened his eyes, twisting his head to the side so that he could get a better view of his husband. They just stared at one another.
“You can use your words you know” Ian finally offered after a long stretch of silence.
That grinded Mickey’s gears a little. He knew Ian was just as much of a stubborn asshole as him but this all kinda felt like a mind game to Mickey. Ian knew what he wanted, knew that he could save Mickey some grief by just giving in. Yet, he didn’t. For whatever reason Ian felt like he needed to stand his ground.
Mickey sure as fuck wasn’t about to beg for it. Felt fucking ridiculous that this whole petty showdown was really about fucking cuddling. If Ian wanted to play that game, Mickey could too.
Mickey’s eye line didn’t break from Ian’s slow blinking eyes.
“Really?”
Ian just shrugged, in doing so almost hitting Mickey in the jaw.
Mickey didn’t know why he got out of bed. He knew he was probably being a bitch about the whole situation. That thought was solidified when he looked down at Ian who gave him an eye roll before rolling over, shifting so the blanket covered his bare shoulder. “Where are you going?” Ian’s voice rang after him.
Mickey didn't answer, but he did make sure to snatch the blanket off of Ian in his tissy, draping it over his shoulder as he grudged his way over to the couch.
He sighed as he looked at the tan couch. It had only been there for a few days now. Mickey figured he was about to see how comfortable the thing really was.
He slid down laying on the cushions. He cursed himself for not bringing a pillow with him. He sure as hell wasn’t about to let Ian think he was winning in any way and go back to bed to grab it.
He laid with his head pressed against the armrest, his forearm slinked against his forehead to block out the moonlight pouring in from the window behind him. He forgot his phone too or he would have looked to see what time it was. He figured it was probably almost one. They had been trying to go to bed earlier now that they had a job where they were expected to be somewhere in the morning. That definitely wasn’t working
Mickey sighed. He was fucking cold as shit again.
He thought about Ian in bed. How he probably just fell back asleep and Mickey was the asshole stuck on the couch. Except he wasn’t stuck there. He chose this. He was thinking he was pretty fucking stupid for doing that. He bit his bottom lip. If he would have just sucked it up and not been a petty bitch about it he could have been laying with Ian. He could be fucking warm. Maybe even halfway to sleep.
He grumbled to himself swallowing his pride. He really wanted to go back to bed. He thought about the couch some more. Thought of all those couples who slept in two separate beds or was banished to the couch when they were fighting.
“Fucking Gallagher” Mickey cursed, pushing himself off of the couch. He wrapped himself in his blanket. He needed to go back to bed, no way he was going to sleep on the couch like some bitch about this.
He made a big deal to loudly drugged back into the room. Ian didn’t move a muscle, he had flipped over to his other side in Mickey’s absence, sprawling over Mickey’s space.
Mickey grumbled again, pushing Ian’s legs out of his spot.
“Shut the fuck up” Mickey chided, sliding into bed.
“Not saying anything” Ian’s bawled fists rubbed over his tired eyes as he rolled onto his back. He took another second, hands reaching over his head as he stretched. “Well, I’m awake now”
“Fucking sorry” Mickey scoffed.
“S’ok,” Ian opened his eyes completely. Mickey almost punched him for how chipper he looked. “Glad you came back to bed, baby”
Mickey couldn’t pretend he wasn’t happy too. He tried not to blush again at the casual baby. He had always loved the way Ian said that. How much pure admiration oozed from his lips when he said it. He wasn’t going to let Ian know then either. He had already swallowed his pride enough to go back to bed, admitting he loved being called baby was too much for that night.
Mickey laid on his side, and not even a second later he could feel a pair of arms reach around his mid, pulling him towards the centre of the bed slightly. Ian took a second to reposition himself, finally settling once his belly was pressed against Mickey’s back.
He was so relieved that Ian initiated it. He knew that he would have if his husband didn’t but it made him a little more comfortable that he didn’t have to take that first step.
Mickey lurched his head forward slightly as Ian's head landed on top of his pillow, leaving Ian’s side of the bed completely abandoned.
Mickey stayed stiff for a second. He didn’t have a problem with physical affection - he really didn’t. He had even started to make an effort to try and initiate it now and then after Ian made a one-off drunken comment that he wished Mickey would be a little more physically affectionate.
Mickey would kiss him first, wash his hair in the shower, and make an effort to hold his hand. Still, as he laid Ian pressed against him, he did feel a little tense.
Figured maybe it was that internalised homophobia Ian had also mentioned once. He didn’t have a great gasp of what that meant exactly. Maybe it just meant that Mickey still found it a little jarring to be spooning with a man.
But it wasn’t just any man. It was his husband. Who he loved, deeply. He had no reason to feel uncomfortable or even awkward about the whole situation. Reminded himself of that. Solidified that fact when he realised that he was actually very comfortable. That he felt somehow safer with Ian’s arms wrapped around him.
Mickey's shoulder’s finally laxed. He took a deep breath, which made it slightly difficult with Ian’s arms wrapped around his stomach. Ian got a little closer, Mickey didn’t think that was possible. He leaned his head forward, softly kissing Mickey’s temple.
They both settled in after a second. Ian’s free hand reached down, adjusting their blanket over Mickey so he was completely covered again. Mickey could feel Ian’s leg poke out of the blanket a little, rubbing against his calf.
“Hey, uh, let go a second” Mickey’s voice was soft. So soft he thought that Ian didn’t hear him. He was about to repeat himself when he felt Ian’s arms relax.
The ginger frowned, starting to pull away figuring Mickey didn’t want this when he was stopped dead in his tracks. Mickey pulled Ian’s hand, manoeuvring his arm over Mickey's shoulder. He shifted again before landing square against Ian once more, hand firmly holding Ian’s in his. He raised their joined hands to his lips before letting them fall to his side.
Ian muttered a very lazy, half-gone “night” before nuzzling deeper into Mickey’s neck. Mickey breathed in deeply. He enjoyed the smell, of Ian being all-encompassing. He shifted a little more, squeezing Ian’s hand. Mickey had no trouble sleeping that night.