imagine mickey standing behind ian and wrapping his little arms around ian’s stomach and getting on his tip toes to kiss the back of his neck (✿◠‿◠)
It all started with a box of macaroni and cheese.
"Why you always gotta make things out of the box?" Ian asked, while he spooned the pasta Mickey had made for dinner out of the pot and split it up evenly between their two bowls. He didn’t know exactly why he asked, but he’d had a bad day and he was bored and teasing Mickey never got old.
"Fuck you," Mickey said from the table. "At least I make dinner for your ass. You should be fuckin’ grateful that I even cook at all."