eighty-four ,, gallavich

v

V.

Ian wakes up, and his first thought jumps to the argument of last night.

Mickey is asleep next to him. Even though they'd fallen asleep close, Mickey isn't close right now-he's curled facing Ian, arm extended and one hand gripping Ian's bicep. Ian knows that the spacing between them has nothing to do with the argument but just with the way the universe decided they'd wake up on this repeat day, but it still hurts, just a little.

Ian watches Mickey's face, peaceful and slack. His eyes trace over Mickey's mouth, lips parted slightly, and then his jawline. He's happy that Mickey won't remember last night, but Ian thinks it will always be in the back of his own mind.

There's something there, Ian thinks, watching the way Mickey's eyes move under his eyelids, the way his eyelashes just barely sweep across his cheek. Mickey's hand is still on Ian's bicep, F-U-C-K facing Ian directly, and Ian has never related to a hand so much in his entire life. It's cute, the way Mickey holds onto Ian. Ian touches his fingers softly to Mickey's knuckle, and Mickey reflexively tightens his grip on Ian's arm.

There's something there. Something about Mickey that has Ian repeating this day over and over. Something about Mickey that brings Mandy and Lip and Fiona and-as Ian found out through Fiona-Debbie and Carl all together. Something about him that makes Ian love him so-and Ian has to love him, this year in the future, the Ian dating Mickey must love him-if Mickey is here, every morning and night that Ian repeats this day.

So it's Mickey. And Ian is beginning to think that maybe Mickey should stay home today.

-

Mickey wakes up around ten. He stretches at first, burrowing a bit into the pillow and shifting under the blankets. When he opens his eyes, he stares at Ian for a second, and it's like every single angry and hurtful moment from last night comes back. But then Mickey smiles at him, murmurs a sleepy, "Hey," that makes the breath in Ian's throat catch.

"Hey," Ian says, smiling back at him. He closes his hand over Mickey's, letting their fingers slot together.

"You been awake awhile?" Mickey asks.

Ian shakes his head. "Not long," Ian says, because he doesn't really know. However long it was, it hadn't felt long, laying in bed with Mickey grasping onto Ian's arm. Time had expanded in some way, seconds and fragments slowing down, until the only seconds Ian could count were Mickey's deep breathing. "Breakfast?" Ian asks, and when Mickey nods, Ian climbs out of the bed and heads into the kitchen.

Ian has just finished brewing the coffee when he hears Mickey's phone go off. Econ group, Ian thinks, and he knows that his job for today has started.

Ian walks into their bedroom and leans against the doorframe, watching Mickey get dressed. When he starts to pull on a shirt-a dark button-up that really does wonders-Ian goes over to him, wrapping his arms around Mickey's waist and pressing along his back. Ian nuzzles into Mickey's hair, breathing in his scent, and feels dizzy with the feeling running through him.

Mickey sighs and leans back against Ian's hold, lacing their fingers together. We fit together so perfectly, Ian thinks.

"Going somewhere?" Ian asks.

"Yeah, econ group called," Mickey says. He turns around in Ian's arms, rests his hands on Ian's waist. Ian likes their height difference, the way Mickey has to tilt his head up a little to look at Ian.

"You're meeting them today?" Ian says, already knowing the answer, but hey. He's trying to get Mickey to stay. "The day after New Years?"

"I know, they're fucking nuts," Mickey says.