Morning after - @thecanarylives

[bringstheheat]

Mick is far from a morning person. Normally waking him up involves a good hard shove just to get his attention, particularly when he's sleeping in a large, soft bed with the woman he loved. Sara always slips out for an early morning run and while he might sleepily mutter in protest, throwing an arm out where she'd once been, it's never quite enough to get him out of bed.

So his favorite mornings are the ones when she takes off, skips a run in favor of some other form of exercise or just to laze in bed with him.

Considering the length and duration of Laurel Lance's birthday party last night, Mick is all for staying in bed.

Tequila is just fucking evil.

But there's a warm body curled close, blonde hair tickling his nose and Mick couldn't be happier. He's still on disability from the station, the scars on his arms still healing up, but he can move without stiffness and pain and that's light years from how bad it had been after the fire that had almost taken his life. Third degree burns, physical therapy and his insistence that he didn't give a damn about skin grafts. Save that for the people that really needed it.

He'll ask for a rubdown later, something to ease the lingering stiffness, but not right now. He's got Sara close and all is right with the damned world.

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[thecanarylives]

She'd learned early on not to even attempt to wake him in the morning. There were times he'd sleep through his alarm for work and she'd try to tap him, tug at his arm, pull the blankets from him - all to no avail. The only thing that got him moving in the morning was damn near physical violence, and she sure as hell wasn't going to deal with the grumpiness that settled in because of it.

This morning, with the weight of tequila hanging heavily over them both, she's sure there's nowhere else she'd rather be than curled up next to the big snoring lug she calls hers. She turns to face him, pushing the hair out of her eyes and watching him sleep, her fingertips trailing the heavy scars that warped up and down his arms.

She'd been a damn mess that night. Waking to the midnight phone call every loved one of a firefighter dreaded, bursting into the ER and threatening to raise hell if they didn't let her see him immediately. Pacing the waiting room floor, helpless as she'd ever felt in her life.

Leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw, she trails a few slow kisses down his neck, nips at his earlobe, shifting closer against him to trail a few more kisses down his shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, there was another way to wake him she hadn't tried yet...

[bringstheheat]

Mick has at least another two weeks of physical therapy before he can even consider going back into work and even then it's light duty. He won't see a fire for at least a month as they slowly ramp up his conditioning again and while the pace is frustrating, Mick won't push it. He remembers waking up in the hospital in a haze of confusion and pain, Sara holding his hand as she quietly cried which hurt worse than his injuries. Last thing he wants to do is worry her all over again.

The kisses get a reaction out of him, even if it's a pleased hum as he shifts closer to her warmth. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad way to wake up.

[thecanarylives]

On the bright side, two more weeks of leave during her break in classes meant two weeks she could spend curled up next to him like this. Two weeks of seeing him safe from another brutish act of heroism. No doubt he'd grumble through his PT and swat at the nurses as they fussed over his injuries, but at least he was healing. At least he was safe.

She smiles as he stirs and burrows closer into her, her fingertips grazing the short buzz of his hair as she presses another few kisses against his temple.

"Rise and shine, baby," she teases, one leg hitching over his hips before she nips at his earlobe again.

[bringstheheat]

Any extra time spent with Sara was a bonus in Mick's book. She's on a break from classes and he only has to go to PT for a few more sessions to grouse and grumble at damn near everyone who wanted to call him a hero when all he'd done was his job. But he can have mornings like this, swimming up to wakefulness with warm lips at his ear, familiar hands shifting over him as she teases him awake.

A large hand shifts, holding her leg against his hip as he rolls completely onto his back, taking her with him. A sleepy sort of smile as he opens one eye. "Mmn. Mornin' doll." He'll never get tired of looking up at her like that. Warm skin, lean muscle, the way her smile lights up her entire face. The love of his goddamned life, right there. His Sara.

((ooc: You know I'm gonna have to find a picture of Dom smiling for an icon just because she makes Mick happy))

[thecanarylives]

She bubbles a laugh as she rolls with him, all too familiar with the way he moves, the way her own body moves with him. Her mess of hair cascades in a blonde curtain on his face and she sweeps it back before dipping in for a kiss, hips settling against his stomach.

"Morning," she murmurs, flashing him a grin in return for his lazy, half-conscious smile. She peppers another trail of kisses along his jaw, nudging the tip of his nose with hers. It's mornings like these when she's sure the rest of the world could go to shit and they wouldn't notice for hours. He's all she needs, and even pancakes and coffee aren't enough to drag her from this bed right now.

"Mm, last night was fun. From what I remember, anyway. I think Laurel's finally coming around to you."


[ooc: oh no they're too cute]

[bringstheheat]

That laughter always makes him smile. It doesn't matter if it's lazy rolling around in bed, roughhousing in the pool or in the heat of passion, they move perfectly together. His thumbs rub small circles against her hips before sliding up the long muscles of her back to keep her close so he can claim a more proper good morning kiss.

"Mhn. Was pretty fun," he agrees. Even if his head didn't, but that was something a good cup of coffee and some aspirin would no doubt clear up. "Y'think so?" The Lance family hadn't exactly welcomed Mick with open arms at first, but they were collectively warming up to him. Slowly.

Not that Mick is terribly concerned. His entire world is wrapped up in his arms, hair tickling his nose and hands braced on his chest. Let them frown and disapprove. He loves Sara. She's his and he's hers. Simple as that.

[thecanarylives]

That smile. It never fails to dissolve her into a giddy school girl, and not just because it's so rare. He has a handful of different smiles she's seen throughout the years - that forced, tight-lipped one he has when he's irritated, the slightly crazed one he gets when he's rearing for a fight, that smug smirk he gets when he's feeling particularly invincible. She can't help but think, though, that this one - the softer, genuinely fond one - is just for her. And she'll take as many of them as she can get.

She still gets goosebumps, after all this time, feeling those warm, calloused hands slide up her skin. She leans into his kiss easily enough, weight propped on her forearms on either side of his head as she presses slow, lazy kisses along his lips.

"Mm, well, she didn't kick either of us out of the party, so I'll call that a win," she teases, dragging her teeth over the curve of his lower lip. To hell with their disapproval. Neither her sister nor her father are in any place to judge, and after a slew of crash and burn relationships, she's allowed to be with a man that makes her happy. Stupidly, undeniably, damn near disgustingly happy.

[bringstheheat]

Mick hasn't had a lot of good in his life. A house fire when he was a kid, foster care, a couple of rough stints in juvie before he got straightened out to make it through high school and join the CCFD. Not the best life but hell, other kids had it worse and at least he wasn't a criminal, right? Then Sara came into his life and brought warmth and affection. Love. He was going to treasure every damn moment with her, no matter the disapproving looks from family.

He rumbles out a laugh, letting one hand drift over her hair. "True. And I did get the shovel speech from her. Must be a step in the right direction."

[thecanarylives]

Sara always did run with the troublemakers. She grew up the black sheep to Laurel's white one, though Detective Lance would always insist that no man would ever be good enough for both his princesses.

Which is why Sara's certain he ran a background check on Mick the moment he had a first and last name. And subsequently the reason Mick would always fight the uphill battle if he wanted to win her father's favor.

Not that Sara cared. She'd shack up with a damn gun-toting supervillain if he made her feel the way Mick did.

"Please, like my sister can pull any weight threatening you," she grins. "But hey, at least it shows acceptance, I guess."

She presses another kiss to his chin before resting her head in the crook of his neck, fingertips toying gently over his chest.

"My head's pounding. Feels like we drank an entire handle by ourselves."

[bringstheheat]

Mick hums at the kiss, stroking his hand through her soft hair. "Y'know, I think we did," he agrees. After a few more moments of comfortable quiet, Mick kisses her forehead. "Stay comfy. I'll make us some breakfast."

Because if there's one thing Mick excels at in the kitchen, it's breakfast. Plenty of starch, grease and coffee to fight off any lingering hangover.