Chapter Text
Ian wakes up on Christmas morning with a warm presence plastered against his back. He grins. Mickey has never wanted to be the small spoon before and he could hardly refuse the request. The shared heat between them was molten, the bedsheets kicked down just above his knees and below Mickey’s.
Ian gently turns himself around so that they face one another. Mickey is still asleep, but subconsciously his hands search for Ian’s warmth once Ian repositions himself. One hand on Ian’s bare hip, the other latching around his neck.
Ian’s forehead presses against Mickey’s and he hears a whimper escape Mickey’s lips.
Christ, he’s perfect… He gingerly presses his cheeks to Mickey’s alabaster cheeks and he reaches a hand southward to caress the length of manhood pressing against his lower abdomen.
“Mmm… so this is what Christmas morning at the Gallagher house is like,” thrums Mickey.
“It is now that I have my own room.”
“Before my sister moved into her apartment building, I was still sharing with Carl and Liam.”
“Remind me to write her ‘thank you’ for moving out.” His eyes aren’t even open yet, but Mickey is in rare form already. “And for buying herself some heavy curtains.”
Ian chuckles his way into a kiss. “You actually have me to thank for that. She sort of freaked out after that first time I stayed the weekend, and she got a taste of what our Only Fans would look like.”
Mickey catches Ian by surprise, pushing the larger man onto his back and straddling his midsection, arms bracketing either side of the ginger’s head. “His eyes are wide open now. Ian could get lost at sea if he stares into those baby blues long enough.
“So are you ready for your present?”
“Mick, our Christmas presents are downstairs.”
The brunette grins. “And what about the other special occasion?”
“What other…?”
“Thanksgiving was on the twenty-fourth. Which means the twenty-fifth was...”
Mickey is scanning his face for understanding and seems surprisingly amused that Ian is drawing a blank as to what significance of the day after Thanksgiving. But he is drawing a blank. Ian feels a flush of embarrassment.
“It’s the first time we woke up next to each other, Red.”
“We woke up next to each other before, right? That time I was getting over—”
“Uh-uh. You woke up next to me, sure. But I slept on the couch and woke up to the ninth degree from your brother. Meaning this is it.” Mickey grows increasingly passionate with each word as he spits in his hand and reaches behind him to slick up his lover’s shaft. “One whole month, bitch!”
“Always surprised when you get sentimental like this,” Ian sighs in pleasure as Mickey guides the head of Ian’s turgid member inside him. Mickey’s hole is still loose from last night’s revels and there is very little resistance as Mickey’s bussy devours nearly Ian’s full length.
“Well, brace yourself. ‘Cause I’m all in on the mushy touchy-feely shit.” Mickey crows as he starts to buck his hips, picking up a slow and steady rhythm.
“And how do you want to mark the occasion,” grins Ian with his come hither eyes.
Mickey bites his lip as he presses even lower onto Ian’s appendage. “You see what I’m already doing? All morning long.”
They find themselves making love both urgently and idly, full of desire and yet content to take their time.
Until.
The sound is distant at first. It almost sounds like a gentle thumping. And then it grows louder. Ian vaguely knows the sound, but he’s still too engrossed in Mickey to react properly until the sound grows too close. The sound of an energetic toddler zooming around the house.
But then the sound grows close and Ian’s instinct kicks in and he’s pushing Mickey off. “Woah! What gives?” demands Mickey as Ian throws a blanket over both of them with seconds to spare before small fingers appear clutching the side of Ian’s accordion door and shoving it open to reveal his niece wearing red and white striped leggings and a green Grinch sweater. She beams a toothy smile that shows off her very first lost tooth, a lower incisor.
“Uncle Een! Uncle Mickey! We’re doing Christmas!”
Mickey sits up shoving a pillow in front of him, even with the blanket giving him ample coverage. “Thanks for the wake up call, Franny, but I’m not sure if your family wants you calling me ‘unc—’”
Ian jabs him with a finger under the bed sheet, causing Mickey to flinch. “It’s fine. If you’re okay with it, I mean.”
Mickey looks at him meaningfully. An uncertain expression melts into a small smirk. “Okay, then. Yeah, Uncle Mickey.”
Franny’s gaze shifts between the two of them, oblivious of why they are deliberating on what to call Mickey. “Everyone else is downstairs. Auntie Fi says we gotta wait for you.”
“You want to open your presents, huh?”
The child nods with her whole little body.
“Head downstairs, Fran.” Ian instructs. “We’ll join you all in about ten minutes.”
And just as soon as she appeared, the little zephyr disguised as a child vanishes from the room.
“Regretting spending Christmas with the Gallaghers yet?” Ian asks. He was surprised Mickey suggested staying at his place tonight. With Mandy in Pittsburgh for the holiday, they would have had his apartment to themselves.
“Nah, this is great.” Demurs Mickey as he rises and starts pulling out the pajamas he had packed in his overnight bag, but never wore last night.
“Even if we get cockblocked by a five-year-old?” Ian asks as he finds a pair of sweat pants towards the top of the clean laundry basket.
“Maybe I’d feel differently if we lived closer to my aunt and uncle, but we don’t,” shrugs Mickey. “And Christmas with the Milkovich family is all just booze and trauma bonding.”
Ian doesn’t like the way Mickey talks about his Milkovich relations. Sure, Terry sounds like a monster. But Ian has met several more family members since Thanksgiving. And while none of them are angels, they’re just as much a family as the Gallagher clan.
“Besides,” he continues, “you got a taste of Milkovich family gatherings at Thanksgiving. My turn.”
Ian smiles crookedly at him. “After all the insanity I’ve told you about the Gallaghers, do you think you’re ready for them at their most Gallagher? All full of kumbayas and hugs?”
“That really isn’t the threat you think it is, Red.” Mickey rears himself up on his tiptoes for a kiss, arms wrapping around Ian’s neck. “I ran off on you a long time ago because I was scared shitless of letting you anywhere near my homicidal father. I’m not getting spooked just ‘cause your family gets too touchy feely.”
Ian kisses him back, short and sweet. Not one of their passionately ravenous, needful kisses, but rather it communicates just how thankful he is to have Mickey in his life.
It hasn’t even been two months since the older man re-entered Ian’s life, since Ian got his best friend back. And it has been only a month to the day since they truly became something more. But Mickey feels like he should have been there the whole time, like there was space in Ian’s heart and his life that was always reserved for him. And now Mickey is where Ian always wanted him, walking down the stairs side by side to partake in Christmas morning, like just another member of the family.
Mickey has brought up the concept of Providence as long as they’ve known each other. And seeing how Mickey clicks in different and distinct ways with each and every sibling, and even wholeheartedly embraces little Franny’s enthusiastic affection without hesitation, Ian finds himself believing in Providence himself. Mickey should have been here all along.
But he’s here now. And that’s truly all that matters.