By: bekkachaos
Summary:
Where Ian's tired of Mickey sleeping on the floor.
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Ian stared down at Mickey, sleeping on the floor of his room with one foot sticking out the side of the blanket and an arm stretched above his head. He leant his chin on the edge of the bed and smiled.
He reached out to poke him once, making him stir a little in his sleep, then again to make him startle awake.
"The fuck..." he mumbled. "What you pokin' me for?"
Ian just nodded his head back and nudged him again with the tips of his fingers.
"You know I can't see you ass wipe." Mickey said, laying his head back down on his lumpy pillow.
"Get up here." Ian whispered.
"What are you high or something?" Mickey said.
"No, but you've been down there all week, thought you might want an actual bed."
"That it is it?" Mickey scoffed.
"Mick, stop being so stubborn and get up here." Ian said, this time tugging on his shirt.
"Alright, Alright! Fuck." Mickey hissed as he threw off his blanket and scrambled up and into the small bed beside Ian who had already scoot over to the wall.
He turned his back to Ian, bundling up the pillow under his head. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as Ian pulled his sheet over the both of them and began wriggling in closer. Mickey bit his tongue to stop himself from shoving Ian away. Instead he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes as he felt Ian's fingers brush his hip under the line of his boxers.
Ian's nose nuzzled into him just behind his ear and Mickey's fingers twitched. It took another few minutes before he reached down to rest his hand on Ian's wrist, their feet already tangled at the end of the bed.
They hadn't really done this before, but it was like Mickey had already accepted it as the way it was going to be from then on.
