my mom taught me the therapeutic power of cleaning. open all the windows. throw out the old. wipe down the entire house. burn some incense. roast some coffee. then rest. that way the tears from last night don’t feel as heavy.
ian and mickey spooning at night and ian whispering i love you in the crook of mickey’s neck so softly and when he doesn’t hear a response so he says it again a little louder and waits for mickey to at least say something until he leans over and sees mickey’s eyes are closed and assumes he’s asleep and dozes off as well then in the morning ian’s chattering over something (really, mickey isn’t paying much attention to what he’s saying he’s just staring at ian in awe and admiration like a fucking love sick puppy) and he interrupts ian’s rambling by saying “i feel the same way” and ian’s of course confused because the last time he checked mickey hated avatar (he claims it got “way more hype than it was worth” which ian always rolled his eyes at), even more so when he talked about it nonstop like he was now and he asks mickey what he’s talking about and mickey just shyly adds “what you said last night.. i feel the same way” and ian slowly understands what mickey’s hinting at and gets that especially huge grin he only seems to acquire when he’s around mickey and dumbly replies with “i thought you were asleep” and mickey’s all sheepish and admits he was afraid to say it back aND THEN THEY KISS AND EVERYTHING’S CUT E AND WONDERFUL AMEN
we are alone
Ian/Mickey - Mickey’s drunk. Fiona and Ian talk.
“So,” Fiona says, handing Ian his tea and sitting down next to him on the couch, legs crossed indian style. “Mickey Milkovich is still here,” she says, and she has that odd motherly look on her face.
Ian shrugs again. “He’s helping buy groceries and pay some bills,” he says.