GALLAVICH- Shamelessly Smutty

Breakfast?

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Summary: Gallavich Monday mornings

Warnings: sex, language

Words: 1849

Season: 8

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The Chicago morning was colder than usual, signaling the change in weather as winter approaches quickly as always.

Whatever rays of light had seeped in through the windows, hit the stained white bedsheets in various angles, making the cloth look like wispy, sharp-angled clouds.

And on the bed lay two individuals, one wrapped in the other's arms, limbs tangled like noodles. Soft snores escaped their lips, puffs of air leaving their nostrils as they slept in tranquility. It wasn't until an alarm went off that the smaller man woke up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to turn the blaring sound off.

Despite the disturbance of silence, the other sleeping man remained in a trance, causing the awoken Milkovich to chuckle softly.

Mickey Milkovich was extremely lucky; he would fall asleep and wake up in the arms of the most perfect redheaded boy humanity will ever get to know, graced with his perfectly arranged freckles.

Ian Gallagher could say the same, graced with the privilege of waking up every morning to see the angelic face of the most beautiful blue-eyed thug in existence.

Mickey continues to observe Ian's sleeping face, wide eyes looking at the way the younger boy's lips were forming a slight pout.

The older man brings a hand up to cup Ian's face before his fingers gently play with the sleeping man's plump lips. It does nothing to wake him - Mickey knows how heavy of a sleeper Ian is, considering growing up in the Southside.

With a soft sigh, Mickey shifts a little, snuggling himself closer to the younger boy. One hand remains planted on Ian's bare chest, while the other delicately traces over his freckles, slowly counting each one.

Ian mumbles something incoherent, causing Mickey to stiff a laugh and mumble "look at this dork" to himself.

After a few more minutes of fondly gazing at his lover, Mickey cups Ian's face with both hands and softly says, "Time to get up Gallagher."

Ian mumbles, eyebrows knitting together - a clear indication of his protest to Mickey's words. Mickey just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "We'll both be late for work." he continues to speak.

At this, Ian slowly peels his eyes open, looking at Mickey skeptically. "It's the weekend, Mick. We don't have work." he reasons.

Mickey laughs, "I know smartass. I just don't want to eat breakfast alone with your crazy as fuck family."

With a light chuckle, Ian's lips stretch into a sleepy smile, "You mean your crazy as fuck family."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off."

Ian laughs, eyes more awake now. He stares at Mickey warmly, gazes more than enough to warm the cold weather. "I love you so much," he whispers against the brunette's lips.

Mickey smiles, nodding his head happily, "I love you too, Red."

He then begins to pepper kisses all over Ian's face, the touch so light it feels like feathers. The redhead just laughs in response, circling his arms tighter around Mickey's figure. "Are you really not going to get up?" Mickey asks with a laugh, "Cause I want to make breakfast already."