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‘Ian, why the fuck is my favourite goddamn cereal on the top shelf again? I’ve asked you time and time again to put it on the bottom one. You don’t even eat the fuckin’ stuff; why do you always move it?’
Ian smiled, listening to the sweet sounds of his husband’s angry rants. He loved it when Mickey was cranky. Well, when he was cranky in a way that meant he obviously wasn’t that mad. When Mickey got actually grumpy, he tended to act like a bit of a dick and they usually ended up fighting as a result.
But hearing Mickey complaining about random shit like this made Ian’s day. The fact that Mickey could be openly domestic and whine about stuff like fucking cereal proved how far they had come. Ian loved living with Mickey. He loved being married to Mickey. Plus, he couldn’t really say anything about Mickey’s complaints, since he was the one who purposefully had put the cereal up there.
He got up, making his way into the kitchen to see Mickey standing on a chair and reaching on his tip-toes for his favourite cereal. His arm was stretched out and he was trying his best to knock over the box to make it easier to grab. The whole reason Ian had suggested this apartment was because even he had trouble reaching the top shelves and sometimes needed a chair to reach, so it was perfect for him to watch his small husband struggle.
Now, you may be thinking that Ian is cruel, using his husband’s own height against him, but fuck you. It’s only because it was adorable. He loved how his husband was shorter than him. He loved it when he hugged him, pretty much enveloping his stocky body. He loved watching him jump up and down on his toes, determined to reach whatever he needed. It was cute as hell.
‘Ian!’ Mickey yelled out, not realising he was behind him.
‘Right here, Mick,’ Ian said and came up behind him, resting his hands on Mickey’s hips to steady him. ‘Need some help, babe?’
‘Don’t you babe me, you motherfucker. You put this shit up there on purpose! You love watching me struggle, you sadistic jackass.’
‘I don’t love watching you struggle. I just think it’s cute when you go up on your toes.’
‘Fuck what you think is cute,’ Mickey sneered. He was clearly annoyed, but no more than usual so Ian felt okay with continuing the banter.
‘That’s the plan.’ Ian smirked, smacking Mickey’s ass playfully before dancing away when Mickey tried to smack him. ‘Okay, okay. Get down from there and I’ll get it for you.’
Mickey eyed him in suspicion. ‘No more putting my shit on high shelves?’
Ian nodded seriously. ‘I promise. Now, c’mon.’
Mickey climbed down from the chair as carefully as possible, watching as Ian climbed up and grabbed it for him. When he climbed down, Ian noticed Mickey’s thoughtful expression. He was going to ask what he was thinking about, but Mickey shook his head before he could and went to eat his cereal.
_______________________
Mickey wasn’t an idiot. He knew his husband liked to watch him stretch to reach for things. He figured it was all about his ass, but now he was thinking differently. He was starting to notice the way Ian loved to completely cover him with his body whenever he could. Well, until Mickey started to complain that he was being smothered to death by his huge ass husband.
The way he really figured it out was when he went to visit Fiona at work. It was his and Ian’s anniversary soon, and he needed some help figuring out a present. He would’ve asked Lip, but fuck Lip. Dickhead probably would’ve made fun of him for not knowing what to get his partner. He and Fiona had gotten closer anyway, so it made sense to ask her. Carl also was working at Patsy’s so maybe he could also throw his two cents in.
However, when he got there, he saw Ian sitting at the counter, talking to Fiona. Mickey quickly sat at a nearby table, but faced the other way. He didn’t want Ian to know he was here. If Ian didn’t leave soon, he figured he would just leave instead, but it sounded like they were finishing up their conversation anyway.
‘Ian, you’re just gonna have to figure out what to get him yourself. I can’t figure this shit out for you.’ Fiona sighed.
‘I know. I just—I have no idea what to get him, Fi. We’ve never done an anniversary before. I love him so much. I just don’t wanna screw it up. I’m already pissing him off lately. I gotta get him something good.’
‘How exactly have you been pissin’ him off?’
‘I keep putting things where he can’t reach them.’
Fiona gasped. ‘Ian! That’s so mean!’
‘It’s not mean,’ Ian argued. ‘I just…Look, I…’
‘You love the height difference between the two of you,’ Fiona finished for him.
Mickey wished people would stop bringing that shit up. They’re going to give him a complex soon. Sure, he kind of liked resting his head on Ian’s collarbone when they were in bed, but he wasn’t as obsessed with it as everyone else seemed to be.
Ian sighed. ‘I do. I really do. My little Mickey.’
Mickey screwed his face up in disgust. Little Mickey? What the fuck? What kind of hellish alternate universe had he entered that Ian thought it was good sense to call him that? Especially in front of other people.
‘“Little Mickey”,’ Fiona giggled. ‘I still can’t believe that nickname, Ian. Now, don’t you gotta get back to work?’
Ian groaned, rising from his stool. ‘Fine. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own.’
As soon as Ian strode out, Mickey was up and heading towards Fiona. She was crouching under the counter, clearly looking for something, and didn’t notice when he sat down. When she stood, she jumped in shock to see her brother-in-law scowling at her.
‘Jesus, Mickey, you scared the shit outta me!’ she gasped, a hand to her chest.
‘Little Mickey?’ Mickey snapped.
Fiona pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. She took a deep breath, struggling to school her features, before saying, ‘Mickey. Don’t overreact. It’s a cute little nickname. I’ve been the only one to hear it, alright?’
‘Puttin’ my stuff where I can’t reach it,’ Mickey muttered in annoyance. ‘I’ll show that asshole.’
‘God, what are you gonna do?’ Fiona’s eyes were wide with concern.
Mickey smirked. ‘Givin’ him a taste of his own medicine.’
_______________________
Ian was confused when he entered their apartment later that day. Everything looked the same…but different somehow. He shrugged, deciding not to worry about it and went to get a glass of water. He opened the cupboards to see…no cups in sight. He frowned, opening a few other cupboards to see them all empty.
‘Mickey!’ he called out in confusion.
‘Yeah?’
‘Where is all of our stuff?’
‘The fuck are you talkin’ about?’
‘Our cups. They’re not in the cupboard.’
‘Check under the sink.’
Ian frowned, eyeing the cupboards under the sink. He hated those cupboards. They were so far to the ground that Ian had to crouch down to reach them, and he always bashed his head on the sink when he came back up. He sighed, deciding to just do it anyway.
He opened the cupboard to see it crammed with everything missing from the other cupboards. They were filled to the brim with stuff. He frowned, starting to pull stuff out. The cups were at the very back. Once he had gotten the front stuff out, he reached into the cupboard, having to poke his head and shoulder in it to reach, and grabbed a cup. As he came back out, he bashed his head on the sink.
He cried out in pain, immediately scrambling away from the source of the pain. He landed on his butt, looking up to see Mickey above him, arms crossed and smirking.
‘Hurts, huh?’ Mickey said. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve almost fallen off a goddamn chair or almost knocked myself out when something fell on me?’
‘What does that have to do with your cup relocation?’ Ian frowned, rubbing the back of his head and standing up.
‘Stop moving the stuff to the top shelves. Stop doing stuff you know shits me off. And, stop calling me little Mickey to Fiona.’ Mickey poked him in the chest with each point. ‘That shit’s not cute.’
Ian immediately pouted. ‘How’d you know?’
‘C’mon, man. Your obsession with my height ain’t really a secret. You pretty much cover me with your giant body from head to toe on any given occasion.’
Ian sighed in defeat. ‘Why is it such a big deal?’
‘It’s not.’ Mickey shook his head. ‘I just want you to stop moving stuff. And calling me little Mickey. I mean, what is that shit?’
‘Fine.’ Ian sighed again before going back to pouting. ‘I don’t have to stop hugging you like I do, do I?’
Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Nah, you can keep doin’ that. Don’t really mind that.’
Ian smirked, suddenly all full of confidence again. ‘Knew you liked it.’
Mickey stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Ian’s waist and looking up at his husband seductively. ‘You, uh, wanna cover me with your body right now?’
Ian slowly nodded, about to drag Mickey into their bedroom when something occurred to him. ‘Wait, we’re putting the stuff back first.’
‘Ian,’ Mickey whined.
‘Don’t worry, Mick. This time I’ll put it in a height-appropriate place.’
Mickey sighed. ‘That’s not what I’m complainin’ about, but fuckin’ whatever.’