Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, Ian thought with all his might as he and Mickey chilled on the couch alone. They'd been in a holding pattern (without the holding) all summer. Mandy had disappeared quickly that afternoon muttering something about Lip's ungratefulness. Without her neutralizing presence the tension between Ian and Mickey grew; without any excuse Ian still stuck around. And so, the tension expanded, his head pounding out the thought over and over, warmth growing between his legs as he fiddled with his hands between his thighs. Ian pushed down his rising erection as he watched the dark haired boy lick his lips and take a swig of beer.
"Hey, so wanna get out of here and, uh, ya know?" Mickey asked. He eyed the door nervously and shifted further away from Ian. No, his mind reeled. He leaned forward and tried to catch Mickey's eyes again, plastering an eager smile on his face to hide his disappointment.
"Sure, what the hell we sitting around this shithole for?" Ian responded. He look around dismissively at the trashed apartment; no he glared at the clutter and the empty bottles and cigarette dust. All this mess covered Mickey's mind with filthy guilt, he knew without the boy ever saying so. With a sigh Ian dragged himself off the couch and reached for Mickey's arm, knowing full well that his hand would be smacked away. Sure enough, Mickey flinched like a wounded dog and pushed past him without a second look. Sometimes Ian wondered if Mickey noticed him at all.
If actions spoke louder than words, than Ian could list a dozen reasons that he was (almost) certain that Mickey cared about him. The half-cocked smile that twitched across his lips when he noticed Ian watching him with awe from the corner of his eye. Or the playful jabs in the gut that he threw just to pull Ian into his arms. Or maybe just the way that Mickey would lay satisfied, momentarily, eyes close and body lax after they would finish fucking. Ian yearned for that calm, comfortable moment whenever they were together.
Today they headed to the same worn out spot; the busted out building that was a beautiful metaphor for the destruction that Mickey left in his wake. He was slowly destroying Ian as well, a heart full of holes and lingering wishes. Ian nudged Mickey's shoulder with his own as they entered the sprawling courtyard. Mickey jumped onto him in a tangle of limbs like the vines weaving in and out of windows; the brush of an arm around his waist and a hand on the back of his neck. Ian leaned in expectantly as Mickey leaned against his forehead and breathed heavily. He cupped the skinny boy's hips and pressed against them, his grip tightening on Ian's neck. Ian opened his mouth in a desperate gasp, tilting his head forward to close the gap between their lips. Mickey wrenched away viciously and looked away from Ian.
Ian felt his stomach toss with the sharp thrill of fear that Mickey's hazel eyes sparked in him whenever they turned dull and dead. It happened more than Ian would like and always when his thoughts got the better of him; kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. He shook the thought away and mechanically pulled down his pants. Mickey was already undoing his belt with a resounding clank that made Ian close his eyes in repressed irritation.
Ian gritted his teeth and slammed into Mickey without hesitation. He channeled all his frustration into his violent thrusts against the boy's ass. It was easy to pretend that Mickey was just anyone in these moments. He could only see the pale, eager arch of the boy's back and his dirty dark hair. Today it was necessary to focus on the anyone-ness of his tight, hot ass wrapped around Ian's cock. He didn't care if just anyone kissed him. He began to pound harder; fuck you Mickey. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Fuck you. He thought as the pounding of his thrusts and his desire met in time.
Mickey let out a gasp as Ian sped up and his eyes flicked back towards the red-head, clear blue in the light, happy. Ian let out an angry grunt and reached forward to tangle his hands in Mickey's hair, pressing his face resolutely away. He wouldn't let Mickey get to be the one always tangling him up in knots. "Jesus Gallagher," Mickey whispered with a satisfying quiver in his voice. Ian grinned the same grin that he always did when Mickey let out a hint of the emotional bitch that he really was. The ragged breathes that trickled from Mickey's mouth vibrated into Ian and he let out an angry, animalistic groan as he emptied himself into Mickey. He clutched the boy's hips eagerly to him and cupped a hand around to make sure that he was finished. Mickey's hand was already laced around his cock and Ian hesitantly laid his hand on top of the tattoos. F-U-C-K; all he ever wanted to do, all he ever wanted from Ian but Mickey didn't bat his hand away. He let their fingers move in time until the warm white gushed across them both, melding them together, dirty and slick.
Ian felt his heart speed further, not what was supposed to happen afterward, he noted. He let his free hand run down the smooth curve of Mickey's hip gently. His smile was no longer faked as Mickey turned to him with that wide-eyed brightness and blue-eyed clarity that Ian looked forward to above and beyond anything else. Mickey buttoned up his pants and wiped his hand roughly against his jeans before tugging Ian's arm and collapsing to the ground. Ian let the boy pull him tight under his arm and closed his eyes hoping that the moment would last forever. Ian noticed the twitter of birds in between their coinciding breaths. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. He thought again, lost in the comfort of the moment. He looked up into Mickey's eyes, firmly planted on his own for once. They shone like the blue sky and Ian felt his lips part naturally knowing what should come next. The air lingered hot between them, a long moment of expectation interrupted by a smattering of Chicago gunfire. Mickey's eyes darkened again instantly, the weight of his life crashing in. He's not going to kiss me today.