Cadence ( Part 2 of Rhythm ) Completed*

Chp 5: Repercussions

Ian's nose is buried into the crook of Mickey's neck as he lays in bed beside his boyfriend. Despite it being November, it is warm enough in the house that there is no chill in the room, even with both men being shirtless. Ian's distracted, but in the best possible way. They're supposed to be talking about looking at the rental property Mickey found, and they are...sort of. Mostly, Ian's pressing soft lazy kisses to the sensitive area behind Mickey's left ear, letting his lips linger there and mumble his words against the column of Mickey's neck. The fingers of his left hand are spread wide of the spans of Mickey's abdomen where they dance over the still flat stretch of skin there. His pointer finger starts tracing swirling patterns there.

He loves this man. He loves this kid...even though he can't tell it's a baby from the ultrasound scan Katie printed up for them. He's going to have to take her word that it is a healthy fetus and go from there. She said that at the 12 week ultrasound it will look more like a baby, and he'll definitely be going to that. For now, even though he has no clear idea what he is looking at, he still keep the ultrasound scan tucked into his wallet. Smiling, he presses another kiss to Mickey's neck and slides a fraction closer.

Mickey lets out a groan, one that is markedly different than a sound of contentment or pleasure. The sound turns it a discontented grumble when he pushes away from Ian, sitting up straight and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Mick?" Ian pushes himself into a seated position and cocks and eyebrow at Mickey.

Saying nothing in response, Mickey sits there through several measured breaths, the exhales loud enough to fill the silence of the room. Groaning once more, he reluctantly trudges out of the bed and shuffles his way towards the bathroom, waving off Ian's concern with the silent flick of his hand.

"Shit," Ian murmurs under his breath, wondering how long Mickey was lying in bed feeling like shit before he finally decided to do something about it. He knows Mickey's been feeling sick, but it's so much different than his pregnancy with Mikayla. With her, he was prone to nausea hitting him hard and fast, then basically disappearing for stretches of time. With this pregnancy, the queasiness seems to always be simmering at the surface, peaking and ebbing at times but always there. For his part, Mickey hasn't really complained about it too much; not all that surprising since Mickey's pretty good at the brooding in silence act.

The house is still silent a few minutes later and Ian feels that he has made some attempt at giving Mickey a little bit of privacy. He slips out of bed and pads his way to the kitchen to fetch a glass of cool water, taking it with him to the bathroom. The door is left open and he sees that Mickey has plopped himself on the floor in front of the toilet but he's not throwing up, he's resting his head against the cold porcelain of the bowl. "Hey," Ian says softly as a way to alert Mickey of his presence. "You okay?"

There is the faintest shaking of Mickey's head and whisper quiet moan.

The silence returns and Ian's heart twists in pain over the fact that there is nothing he can do to make things better for Mickey at the moment. Sighing, he lowers himself to the floor, crossing his legs so they both fit in the cramped space. "I brought you this," he says in indication of the water, "I didn't know if it would help."

"Thanks," Mickey breathes out. He pulls away from the toilet and sits so that his back can rest against the adjacent wall. "Sorry."

Ian's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Are you seriously apologizing for morning sickness...evening sickness...whatever the hell this is?"

"I guess I am, yeah." Mickey's quick smirk doesn't reach his eyes and is gone in a heartbeat. It's replaced by a pinched look of concentration and calculated breathing before he closes his eyes and lets his head knock back against the wall. "This was a bad idea."