Again, this is just a random thing that I don't know why I wrote or where the idea came from. But either way, enjoy. . .
Mandy grinned when she opened the door, her skirt barely existent and her make-up only half done. "Hey, come in, I'll be ready in a sec," she said, turning back into the house. And Ian followed her in, knowing Callum was behind him. He could sense Callum's disgust as they progressed further into the house, Ian automatically moving around the dirty clothes on the floor and the stacks of beer cans both empty and full.
His eyes were automatically drawn to the sign on the door that read 'Keep the Fuck Out' and he found himself smiling before he could stop himself. Callum's fingers gripped the back of Ian's shirt, like he was afraid something would jump out and attack him if he didn't hold on to something familiar.
That made Ian smirk.
"Ugh, put some fucking pants on will you, nobody needs to see that!" an all too familiar voice shouted from the other room and Ian knew that Mandy was in the bathroom. He didn't know how he felt about hearing Mickey's voice, about knowing he was there.
He hadn't seen him since he last went to Juvie. He hadn't even known he'd gotten out.
"Speak for yourself, ass face," Mandy retorted, shouldering open the door and holding up a finger to signal that she'd be one minute before running into her own room.
Mickey came out after her and Ian felt like he couldn't breathe, which he knew was stupid. He was standing there in just a pair of dirty slacks that once upon a time had probably been grey. He was still pale underneath the usual layer of dirt, but just like the last time he'd come out of Juvie, he'd bulked up. He looked good and it made Ian's mouth water, which he felt bad for considering Callum was standing behind him.
There was a minute when Mickey just stared at him and Ian thought he was cataloguing what had changed too, but with Mickey you never knew. Ian didn't know why, but Callum slowly stepped in front of him, like he thought Ian needed protecting from Mickey or something when in reality, it was Callum who needed protecting.
"Why the fuck is he in my house?" Mickey asked and Ian thought for a minute that the ex-con was talking about him, but he was glaring at Callum. Mandy came out of her room and stood beside him, shrugging.
"That's Callum," she said, for some reason putting lip gloss on, on top of the lipstick she was already wearing. Ian would never understand girls, he'd already worked that much out.
Mickey glared at his sister. "Yeah, I know that, I ain't fucking stupid," he retorted, shouldering her hard when she looked like she might disagree with that statement, "But still, why the fuck is he in my house?"
It surprised Ian for a minute that Mickey would know who Callum was. What didn't surprise him was that he didn't like him, because Mickey didn't really like anyone.
"He's Ian's boyfriend, isn't he?" Mandy said, shrugging again, "He's here cause we're going shopping."
Which basically meant they were going to go get high someplace, but Mickey would already know that.
None of them seemed to expect the punch until it happened and Ian hadn't even realised Mickey had moved until he landed on top of Callum, his fist drawing back again and again as he laid into the other boy.
"Mickey, what the fuck?" Mandy screamed at him, but Mickey didn't even falter for a second, even though Ian jumped, he still hit Callum again. And Ian knew he should have already jumped in to try and save his boyfriend, but he wasn't moving.
He didn't think he could move.
It was only when Mandy stepped forwards that Ian acted automatically and both of them grabbed one of Mickey's arms to haul him off. He wrenched away from them almost instantly, but didn't go for Callum again. Instead, he just stood there and rubbed his knuckles.
"The fucker tried to get me fucking arrested," he said, the words practically a snarl as he looked down at the other boy with what could only be described as hatred.
"So why the fuck did you only start hitting him when you realised he and Ian were a thing?" Mandy asked, not knowing when to stop, but then she had grown up with him, so she probably had different boundaries than the rest of the world, "I knew the others were dickheads, but I thought you were better."
And you could tell from her tone that she obviously believed that.
Mickey scowled at her, "I'm not a fucking homophobe, Mandy."
And Ian knew he wasn't, not really. Sure, he was terrified of people finding out that he was gay and he didn't like it when people flaunted what they were, but he wasn't really ashamed of it.
"So why the hell are you hitting him?" Mandy asked again, but Ian wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He was watching Mickey. Watching him fidget uncomfortably, more emotions that Ian had known he could feel flitting across his face.
Ian smirked. "Aww Mick," he said, because he didn't know when to stop either. Because he didn't think the same rules applied to him as the rest of the world either.
And when Mickey glanced sideways at him, he must have been able to see Ian's thoughts all over his face. He scowled, "Shut the fuck up, Gallagher." He looked so close to losing it and Ian didn't know why he suddenly felt suicidal, why he wanted Mickey to lose it.
"I didn't know you c–"
He didn't get to finish that sentence because Mickey punched him in the face.
Ian didn't know why he was suddenly stupid enough, but he barked out a laugh and after dabbing the blood from his lip, punched Mickey back. After Mickey tackled him it just became the blur of fists and flesh hitting flesh. It was painful and brutal, neither one of them holding back in the slightest. Mickey took a knee to the gut and in return head-butted Ian hard.
Nobody tried to stop them, even though they could hear Mandy cursing at them.
Mickey picked Ian up and slammed him into the wall, his fingers curling around Ian's throat but not squeezing as hard as he probably could have. And Ian wrapped his legs around Mickey's torso, his back supported by the wall and it seemed like he was doing that to try and get Mickey off his throat, but it was more so that the ex-con could feel the hardness in Ian's pants.
And he could have squeezed harder with his legs, tried to choke the air out of Mickey, but he only held on slightly harder than was necessary. Both of them were breathing heavily and Ian could taste Mickey's breath on the back of his tongue. He tasted like cigarette smoke and BBQ sauce and Ian licked his lips involuntarily, making sure to breathe in through his mouth because he wanted to taste that.
It was the best thing he'd ever tasted, and he knew how stupid that sounded.
It was like time froze around them, because Ian couldn't have said how long they stayed pinned to that wall, both of them preventing the other from moving even if they'd wanted to pull away. Mickey's eyes were dark with adrenaline and if Ian wasn't mistaken, lust and Ian let his legs slide slightly lower so that their crotches touched and he could feel Mickey's need.
Mickey shifted slightly, subtly, but it made Ian's breath catch in his throat. Mickey's hands slid around from the back of his neck to hold the bottom of Ian's hair, gripping the short strands as he dug his fingers into Ian's flesh. And it hurt, but it was a good sort of hurt.
If there was some sort of signal, Ian didn't know what it was, but they both moved in unison. Mickey used his grip on Ian's head to pull him closer at the same time as Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's shoulders.
Their mouths met in a battle of tongues and teeth and Ian could taste blood, but he didn't have any idea who it belonged to. Mickey groaned into his mouth and Ian swallowed the sound. Ian had never known what to expect when it came to kissing Mickey and he didn't think the ex-con had either, but it was just as brutal and in a way just as sloppy as their fighting was. It was both of them trying to dominate at the same time, it was slivers of pain weaving in with the pleasure and the frantic tension that had always seemed to connect them.
It was everything and nothing like Ian had thought it would be, but he knew he loved it.
It wasn't anything like kissing Callum, or how it had been when he kissed Kash. All control flew out the window with Mickey, all remnants of sanity seeming to go with it. And the thing was, he knew he didn't need that, all he needed was Mickey to be solid and real underneath him, for him to taste like he always did and for him to dig his fingers hard enough to bruise into Ian's flesh, to mark him even though Mickey probably didn't know he was doing it.
And then Mickey was easing back ever so slightly, letting Ian's feet drop back down to the floor. Mickey reached behind them and forced open his bedroom door and then they were tumbling through, a tangle of bruises and bleeding limps, their movements erratic but completely in sync. It was like this was some sort of dance that they'd been practising all their life, it was like they just fit.
Because they did, even if Mickey would deny it.
Ian's shirt was the first thing to hit the floor and Mickey's fingers twisted his nipples sharply, forcing a sound out of him that was part moan and part scream. As they crashed onto the bed, their trousers tangling around their feet and trapping them until Mickey reached down and in a tear of fabric jerked them free, Ian could honestly say that he'd completely forgotten his boyfriend and Mandy were standing outside the door.