#*sf

one.

slowly, but surely, mickey makes his way up to ian's ear, counting each freckle as his fingernail passes over.

two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

once mickey reaches ian's earlobe, he continues upwards along his hairline, still keeping track of what number he's on by mumbling as silently as he can underneath his breath.

ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

ian yawns and turns onto his left side. mickey's eyes go wide in panic; you weren't supposed to wake up, he thinks as he watches ian's eyelids flutter open.

"mick?" ian groans, lazily slugging an arm over mickey's hip. he slides his palm back and forth over the exposed skin, a sly grin flashing across his face. "whatcha doin'?"

"nothing—" mickey quickly stutters, but he's quickly cut off by ian.

"really? because it sounded like you were counting my freckles again, mumbling number and grabbing my face." mickey's jaw drops as his eyes are already open to full capacity. "don't worry, i think it's cute."

mickey's expression softens. "you do?"

"yeah," ian tightens his grip on mickey's waist, "i find it flattering that you think i'm pretty enough to wanna stare at all night."

"shut the fuck up, i couldn't sleep, alright. i thought it'd be, like, counting sheep or whatever." mickey readjusts so he's sitting upward, his back against the wall. he starts fiddling with the hem of his boxers, a nervous habit he picked up as a child waiting for mandy to return home from whatever guy she was out fucking on any particular night.

instinctively, ian mirrors mickey's position. "something up?" he asks. for now, at least, he decides keeping his distance is his smartest choice, so he does just that.

"wedding shit," mickey replies simply.

ian sighs sympathetically." i thought you had it all under control."

"thought so, too," mickey steadies his hand and clasps them together in his lap instead, his head dropping.

"hey, mick," ian ghosts mickey's chin with his fingers, lifting up his head once more. "you—we—have it all under control. i promise it'll work itself out."

"you promise?" mickey's eyes shimmer with hope like maybe ian is right, it will all work itself out.