#nancynwheeler

To his annoyance, Ian just nuzzles deeper into his pillow, apparently not too preoccupied with the fact that his husband was virtually mauled in his sleep.

“S’not dirty anymore. Gave it a little bath.”

“Yeah? Bet it can still give me like uh—” Mickey blinks rapidly, the motors in his exhausted brain working overtime. “—like uh, rabies or—or AIDS!”

Ian gives a prolonged sigh. “It doesn’t have AIDS.”

“You don’t know that.”

And he really doesn’t, because the way this cat came to (temporarily!) stay with them was almost identical to how all shitty things happened to them.

The short version? They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Ian was too much of a soft bitch to just walk away from the situation and forget it ever happened.

The long version is basically the same but in a bit more words. The vermin must’ve snuck into their apartment complex when they were coming back from the store, full arms of shopping bags obscuring Mickey’s view of his surroundings, and followed them all the way up onto the second floor, lured by the smell of their bullshit organic ham from Whole Foods—or the looks of Mickey’s juicy calves, who could really know for sure.

Mickey only noticed it when they stopped in front of their apartment door, and the thing curled itself around the toe cap of his right boot, hell-bent on digging into it with its sharp claws and kicking it with its hind legs.

And okay, back then, it was sorta funny. Mainly because this was the least predatory behavior Mickey’s ever seen in his life. There was just suddenly this thing—hardly a full-sized cat yet, covered from head to toe in mud that made her hair stick together in little hedgehog-y spikes—which already decided to take on a big scary shoe.

So obviously, Ian’s natural reaction was to start ovulating on the spot and claim they had to take it in.

Fuckin’ soft bitch.

“It’s starin’ at me,” Mickey remarks from the bed as he observes the cat-midget with a scowl. He really had to stop enabling Ian’s savior complex.

“Close your eyes.”

“What if it sneaks up on me again, slits my throat open?”

“You have a fat neck. It would have to dig real deep.”

Deciding the second-rate muff on the floor can wait, for now, Mickey turns to Ian. “Who’s side are you fuckin’ on?” he snips at the back of his head.

“My side,” Ian replies tiredly and then shuffles under his comforter to lie on his other side, facing Mickey. “Look, she was scratching at the door, meowing like crazy. You probably couldn’t hear it over your snores, but I did. What else was I supposed to do?”

Mickey watches him for a second. “I don’t snore.”

“Right.” Rolling his eyes, Ian hauls himself off the bed. “Must be my other husband, then. I always get you two confused.”

He takes out one of his older hoodies from the midsized wardrobe opposite the bed and lays it on top, fluffing it a little, so it forms an impromptu nest. Then, he gently grabs the cat and sits it on there, letting it sniff around the material for a couple of minutes before it finally settles down, leaning its head on its outstretched paws. Its eyes stay on alert.

“They like being high up,” Ian answers Mickey’s questioning looks when he comes back to bed. “So they can monitor us and the room at all times. Makes them feel safe.”

“The fuck did you learn that?”

“Google. Done some quick research last night.”

“Oh! So you become a fuckin’ cat lady in one night, but when I asked you to figure out how we could install a sex swing in the empty room—”

Reaching over him to switch the light off, Ian smacks a kiss on Mickey’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Mick.”

Reluctantly, Mickey closes his mouth, already feeling himself deflate.

Whatever. They’re getting rid of that thing later today.

---

“Hey! You’re early,” Ian greets him from the couch. His head propped up on the armrest is the only part of him that Mickey can see from the door, and it makes him chuckle. This way, Ian looks like a magician’s assistant.

“Yeah. The new guys aren’t so useless after all.” Having taken his jacket off, Mickey stalks closer to the couch, his lips already curling into a smirk. “Figured we could use the time better. Maybe take the new toy for a spin. Introduce it to my assho—WHAT THE FUCK is that thing still doing here?”

The surplus pair of eyes regard him from Ian’s chest, quite unperturbed by his outburst as it gets its chin and ears scratched.

“We kinda bonded,” Ian admits sheepishly.

“I can see that.”

In the daylight, and probably after another thorough scrub, the creature’s fur got a vivid, ginger color. Mickey would probably laugh at the resemblance if he wasn’t so set on hating this thing.

“I couldn’t just ditch her. Look at her!” Ian tries to argue, as if looking at it would solve the problem.

Nah, no way. He’s not falling for this dumb big sad eyes crap again. The last time he did, he ended up with a husband in a prissy apartment on the West Side. And now, on top of that, he’ll most likely have to share it with a tiny ass-licker—and not even the kind he likes.

“Bought some stuff,” Ian adds after a pause, motioning in the direction of the kitchen counter where a stack of cans stood next to a bag of dry cat food and cat litter. “She’ll stay with us for some time. Two weeks max, I swear. And we’ll try to find her a new home in the meantime.”

Mickey surveys the counter for another beat. “That’s for two weeks?”

“Mick’s a big eater.”

He swears his eyes grow three times their standard size at that.

“You named it ‘Mick’?” he asks reproachfully.

Ian grimaces. “Yeah? But not on purpose,” he explains apologetically. “I just started telling her about you, and she seemed to perk up every time I mentioned your name. I think she thought it was her name.”

“Great.”

“You said it yourself: Mickey can be a girl’s name, too. And it makes sense because she reminds me of you in so many ways.”

Mickey inspects the cat that’s supposed to be so much like him and finds that during their conversation, she fell asleep and was now letting out these low huffs against Ian’s T-shirt.

And sure, now, in her pacified state, just sprawled like that like a hairy-ass baby on Ian’s chest, Mickey could see himself calling her cute. Maybe. Whatever.

“Even if she looks like your long-lost sister?” he jokes.

“A ginger with Milkovich attitude. Kinda perfect, don’t you think?”

As Mickey watches his big softie of a husband tenderly stroke the cat’s fur, grinning at her as if he was already completely enamored with her, he realizes that he’s smiling, too.

Ah, shit. Mickey’s so fucked.

It was 6:30 p.m. when Eddie decided that maybe, just maybe, Richie wasn’t going to come. He stood up, brushing the bottom of his shorts off before turning back towards his front door. As he turned the knob on the door, he felt a sharp pain in his chest.

“I should have known he was messing around.” Eddie sighed as he opened his door and stepped in. “Of course he wasn’t serious about this. Of course it was a joke.”

Eddie made his way to his living room and as he plopped down on the couch, he was grateful that his mom was gone for the evening. He didn’t want her to see him. He didn’t want anyone to see the way his lip trembled and the way his eyes were scrunched up in an attempt to keep the tears threatening to pour form his eyes at bay. 

He took deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. His mind wouldn’t let him though. Thoughts of Richie calling him “his love” and “cute” as he pinched his cheeks plagued his mind, aggravating the pain he felt in his chest. 

You should have known better than to take one of his stupid jokes seriously.

He rubbed at his eyes, seconds away from falling apart at the realization that this was all just a joke to Richie. He didn’t mean any of the words he’d said to Eddie and he never would.

Great. This is great, actually. I don’t have to keep hoping, wishing, that he’d like me back. This is just the wake up call I needed. I finally know Richie will never-

A frantic knock at his door interrupted his thoughts, making him jump in surprise. He checked his watch again, reading 7:05 p.m., and squinted at the door. As he stood up and made his way to the door, he willed himself not to get his hopes up, not to think that the person on the other side of the door would be Richie. 

Eddie opened the door cautiously, quickly stepping aside when Richie pushed and stumbled his way in, a giant, red monkey cradled in his arms. “Hey Eds, sorry I’m late!”

“Where’d you get that?” Eddie completely ignored Richie’s comment as he pointed at the monkey, making a face at the bright red color of the fur. There was only one place he could have gotten that, Eddie knew that, he didn’t even have to ask. “How much money did you waste this time?”

“Listen,” Richie began as he walked towards Eddie’s living room and dumped the monkey on the sofa. He turned towards Eddie and held onto his hand, looking at him with wide eyes. “That’s not important right now. What’s important is that I apologize.”

“For what?” Eddie asked, feigning ignorance. They both knew what this was about, but he wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Richie had taken this joke to far, and for that Eddie would make him plead for forgiveness. 

“What do you mean for what?” Richie furrowed his eyebrow in confusion, as he stepped closer to Eddie. “Our date, remember? I’m really fucking late!”

“Oh, you were serious?” Eddie asked, folding his arms defensively as he looked away. “I thought it was just a joke. Like all the other times.”

“What-No Eds I-” Richie stuttered as he worked to find the right words to say. He was panicking now, Eddie could see that clearly. He peered back over at him, raising his eyebrow and tilting his head at Richie as if to say “explain yourself”.

“I-I was at the arcade-”

“No shit, I couldn’t tell.” Eddie scoffed as he pointedly looked at the monkey.

“I was at the arcade,” Richie began again, as he looked at Eddie with pleading eyes, begging him to listen. “because there was something I absolutely had to win.”

“So you ditched me, making me think you stood me up just so you could win a stupid stuffed animal that probably cost you all of your money??”

“Fuck-No Eds!” Richie said as he pulled a reluctant Eddie towards him, hugging him as closely as Eddie would allow. Eddie could feel the way Richie’s heart was beating fast and wondered if it was from nerves or something else. “I was trying to win something for you.”

“If it’s that monkey, I don’t want it.” Eddie said as he let himself relax into Richie’s arms. He buried his head in the soft fabric of Richie’s shirt and closed his eyes. As much as he wanted to stay mad at Richie, the fact that he had been late, not because he had forgotten about their date or because it was a joke, but because he had been trying to get something for Eddie, put him at ease. This was real. Richie was here, holding him and telling him everything he wanted to hear, had been hoping to hear. 

“Don’t say that about our son Eds.” Richie scolded as he gently pulled away from Eddie. Richie looked at him with a huge smile, and Eddie felt as if he could melt. At his words, at the way he was looking at Eddie with the fondest expression he had ever seen on Richie.

“Oh, we have a son now? I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Eddie teased, matching Richie’s smile with one of his own. “There’s no ring on my finger so I refuse to believe this child is mine.”

“Ok, first of all, that doesn’t make sense.” Richie laughed as Eddie punched him lightly on the arm, a whispered “shut up” escaping his lips. “You don’t have to be married to someone to have kids with them.”

“I know, I was just jok-”

“Second of all,” Richie interrupted him, refusing to let him play off his joke. “If a ring is what you want, does this work for you?”

Richie reached into his pocket, pulling out a chunky rhinestone ring, and presented it to Eddie on one knee. Eddie’s eyes widened at this, cheeks flushing at the sight before him.

“What the hell Richie!” Exclaimed Eddie as he continued to stare at the ring presented to him. “We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Yeah, well…” Richie grinned at him, that fond expression once again making it’s way back onto his face as if it was reserved only for Eddie. “When have you ever known me to do anything in the proper order anyway?” 

​====