10 (there's no emoji for picking someone up)
🥰 lifting someone up out of excitement!!!! my time has come!!! this is going to be so!!! domestic!!!
- - -
mickey’s the one who gets the call.
they’ve been married for a few years. they’ve moved out of the west side apartment and back to the southside, a little house of their own with a yard and a fence. they have two cats.
they’ve both done some serious mental calisthenics over the past couple years. they both started therapy, because I make the rules 😤
everything is falling into place. they’re settled, and happy, and safe.
ian’s sitting at the table, hunched over the bills. they’re not struggling to make ends meet, anymore — the security business pays well — but they still try to budget. ian, because he wants some savings stashed away in case there’s an emergency — mickey, because they’re both finally off parole, and he wants to go on the most luxurious, overpriced second honeymoon the planet has to offer.
mickey’s sitting on the counter, instead of at the table with ian — “up on his crows nest” ian would say. “he likes to feel tall” — and is reading out the menu for some new thai place they want to try. there’s music pulsing through an old bluetooth speaker perched on top of the fridge. their cats are making a ruckus in the living room, what sounds like the coasters and tv remotes and magazines from the coffee table clattering to the floor.
mickey’s in the middle of reading out the description for some kind of green curry when the call cuts him off. ian doesn’t notice right away, eyes drawn to the bills in front of him, and mickey goes stock-still. it’s not until he hears a sudden “hello?” that he looks up, notices the tension that’s bled into mickey’s frame.
and mickey’s face is totally unreadable. ian lifts an eyebrow as he waits, strains to hear the other line through the music going through the kitchen.
“no,” mickey says, and sounds a little breathless, a little choked. “this is his husband. yeah, yes, we did.” …. “sorry, what’s — what’s that mean?”
a beat. mickey sucks in a breath.
“….no fuckin’ way. shit, uh — fuck, I mean. sorry. you’re — what, you’re serious? when?”
his eyes flick up to ian’s. “tonight?”
“no!” and it’s rushed, this time, mickey holding up a hand instinctively, as if to stop the person on the other line. “no, no, that’s — that’s perfect. yup. we got it.”
another beat passes. ian’s heart is in his fucking shoes, and mickey’s eyes are so, so wide.
“yup. yup. okay, yeah. shit — thank you. yeah, thank you. thanks so much. okay, yeah. yup. bye.”
and mickey hangs up as he slides slowly off the counter, lips parted. he seems dazed, and ian’s eyebrows draw together, concern spiking into impatience — a little panic.
“fucking what, mickey? what happened?”
mickey swallows. wets his lips. “got the green light from DCF,” he says, and sounds as stunned as he looks, his voice distant and hazy. “they’re comin’ by with our first placement in an hour. two years old.”
and all the breath leaves ian’s lungs. “what?”
“a little girl,” mickey exhales, and he blinks hard, eyes glassy. and then, slowly to start and then so, so quickly — he grins. “fuck, ian. they cleared us.”
and before ian knows what’s happening, he’s grinning back, wonder and disbelief and joy and relief flooding his chest as he springs out of his seat.
he grabs mickey’s face, crashes their mouths together, and they’re both grinning and laughing and so it’s all teeth and sharp edges, and then ian ducks down, slings an arm around mickey’s waist, and heaves him up over his shoulder. spinning him around the kitchen in excitement. mickey, half upside-down, presses kisses between his shoulder blades as they laugh.
they come to a stop, and ian sets mickey back to his feet. kisses him again, pressed into the fridge.
“fuck,” he exhales, breathless and bubbly. he curls his fingers into mickey’s hair. “fuck, mickey — we’re gonna have a kid. we’re gonna be parents.”
“foster parents,” mickey murmurs, still smiling as Ian’s forehead dips down to press against his own. “for now, anyway. still gotta get the green light to adopt, but — ”
“— but this is happening. god, mickey. a kid.”
“yeah. you ready?”
ian laughs, wet and wobbly. he doesn’t remember tears springing to his eyes — but here they are. “no? but — fuck. yeah. how about you?”
and mickey kisses him again, curls one hand around ian’s cheek. when he pulls back, his own eyes are bright, smiling, crinkling at the edges.
“damn straight, I am.”
and ian grabs at him, slings mickey over his shoulder once more, the both of them laughing and giddy and — fuck — nervous. but he carries mickey off to the bedroom in his excitement and throws mickey down to the bed and they don’t do anything besides tangle up in each other’s limbs and suck marks along thighs and collarbones —
— but that’s enough for now. it’s pretty much all they have time for anyways.
they have a house to childproof, and the clock is officially ticking ✨
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