The fact that Alyssa, Daemon's mother kinda looks similar to Young!Rhaenyra sure is something that Freud would love
something about clinging to the idea of a woman; the dream girl you've built inside your head. the ideal of a dream girl that no real woman can ever hope to achieve.
the mother who you never got to really know, your niece who has everything that was meant to be yours, the woman your brother chose over you.
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Ian stops in his tracks at the sound of Mickey’s voice. He pops his head into the doorway of their bedroom, where Mickey’s been for the last 45 minutes.
“Huh?”
Mickey pauses the YouTube video that’s playing on his phone. He looks up and smiles at his husband.
“’Said come in here with me. What are you doing out there anyway?”
Ian shrugs.
“Finished my book, put the dishes away from last night,” he lists off. “Nothing really.”
“Good. Come here.”
Ian listens to that. He joins Mickey on the bed and settles in for what he already knows is a compilation of prank videos.
“Comfortable?” Mickey checks, looking down.
“Very.”
The video he’s watching cuts then, and a Walmart ad takes over the screen in front of them. Mickey rolls his eyes at the unnecessary interruption, but Ian doesn’t mind it. He’d rather talk to Mickey, anyway.
“Your birthday is coming up,” he says softly. “’Gonna be thirty.”
“Yeah,” Mickey replies easily. “Thirty,” he repeats, mystified by how nicely it rolls off of his tongue.
The video starts up again, but Ian pays it no mind and continues to use the time to pick at his husband’s brain.
“How do you feel about it?”
Mickey doesn’t answer that immediately. Instead, he waits until he sees the end of a jumpscare, and then he locks his phone and turns his eyes toward the ceiling. He lets out a breath, but it isn’t heavy in his chest.
“Honestly? I’m pretty fucking excited.”
Ian grins. He presses a kiss to the side of Mickey’s face, and lets his lips rest against the stubble there for a moment just to breathe Mickey in.
“Looking forward to anything specific?”
Mickey thinks on that silently. Lately, it’s been hard to find the words for all the positive feelings swirling around in chest. The ability to even have so many was never something he ever saw for himself.
“I guess just being able to look forward to shit, you know?”
And Ian knows what Mickey means by that. He feels his husband’s words.
“The suns finally out.”
Mickey smiles.
“The suns finally out,” he agrees.
A comfortable silence falls over them after that. This time, Ian isn’t the one to disrupt it. He startles a bit when Mickey speaks.
“What are you getting me, anyway?” He wonders out loud, doing his best to maintain indifference in his voice. Even though, all he wants to do is laugh.
Ian snorts. He pinches at Mickey’s belly, and it makes him squirm.
“I am not telling you.”
“Oh C’mon, man,” Mickey argues, “I’m entering a whole new decade. Beating all the fucking odds, I can’t a get a little hint?”
“Nope. Just gotta trust me.”
Mickey turns his face then; he meets Ian’s eyes.
“I can do that,” he promises sincerely.
And sure, Ian’s talking about the gift he won’t reveal, but Mickey’s thinking far past that.
Because he trusts Ian with everything.
He trusts Ian with 30. With 40. With 50 and the salt and pepper hair he knows he’ll be sporting.
He trusts Ian with all his birthdays.
With all his years.
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