Mickey Milkovich didn't get nervous about a lot of things. In fact, he couldn't remember any other time in his life when he had felt like this. He had always heard the expression butterflies in your stomach, but he had never experienced such a feeling, figuring emotions like that were for girls and pussy ass fairy men.
He didn't really know why he was so nervous. It was just Ian. The two of them had been officially together, living together, for a little over a month now. They knew each other's bad habits, quirks, and pet peeves...nothing was a secret anymore.
So why was he pacing back and forth in his living room, anxiously waiting for Ian to come back from the store, feeling as if his heart was pounding in his fucking throat.
"Stay still, what're you so nervous about? It's just orange boy. You two fuck like rabbits."
"Shut the fuck up," Mickey said as he kept pacing.
"You're making baby dizzy," Svetlana said as she airplaned another spoonful of food to Yevgeny's awaiting mouth.
Mickey stopped his pacing and sighed. He then turned to Svetlana, his face softening slightly. "Are you sure we covered everything?"
"Yes. Sure," Svetlana said before cooing at her son.
Mickey opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when Ian came walking through the door, his arms laden with brown grocery bags.
"We got lucky," Ian said as he moved to place the bags on the table, leaning in to kiss Mickey softly on the lips. "It was double coupon day at the grocery store."
"Did you get baby diapers?" Svetlana asked.
Ian retrieved a package of diapers from one of the bags and smiled cheekily. "Half off, thank you."
Svetlana grinned.
Mickey watched the interaction in irritation, wishing Svetlana would take a hint and go somewhere else.
"You get milk, like I asked?"
"Got it," Ian said, displaying the milk. "Two percent for us, and whole for my boo," he said, tossing Mickey a playful smile.
"You get toilet-"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mickey said, turning to glare at Svetlana. "Don't you have to put the baby down for a nap, or some shit?"
"No, not yet," Svetlana said. "Not 'til three."
Mickey looked at her pointedly and, finally, she got the hint.
Her face curled into a knowing smirk. "Ah, yes. It's time for me to leave room so you and orange boy can have chit chat." She stood up and grabbed Yev, taking him into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.
Mickey looked over at Ian to find the redhead watching him, his eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face.
"Fuck's up with you?" Ian asked as he began unpacking the groceries.
"Nothing," Mickey said, walking to his boyfriend. He pressed against him from behind and buried his face between his shoulder blades. "You smell so fucking good."
Ian's laugh morphed into a sigh and he turned around in Mickey's arms and pulled him even closer, wrapping his arms around his neck. He leaned down and kissed Mickey slowly. "Not as good as you," he said when he pulled away, his voice low and husky.
Mickey stared into Ian's eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing he was just seconds away from leading Ian to the bedroom. He had to get to the point now. He didn't do all this planning for nothing.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Ian asked suggestively, grabbing Mickey's hand and heading towards their room.
"Hey, hey, hold on a minute," Mickey said, standing his ground.
Ian turned to Mickey, a confused smile on his face. "What's going on, Mick? Since when do you turn down a fuck session?"
Mickey ran a hand over his hair and shuffled a bit, those damn butterflies fluttering around in his fucking stomach again. Pieces of shit. "I was thinking-"
"Oh oh, that can't be good," Ian said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and smirked.
"Fuck you," Mickey said with a laugh before continuing. "I was thinking, maybe you and I can, I don't know, go get dinner or something tonight, maybe catch a movie," he said, his eyes now focused on the ground as he tried to pull off his best nonchalant act. He rubbed at his bottom lip for added affect.
Ian watched him, his head tilted questionably and that same fucking smirk on his lips. "Are you asking me out on a date?" he said after a long pause.
"Fuck you is what I'm asking you out on," Mickey said flatly before brushing past Ian. He felt like a fucking idiot.
"Hey," Ian said, grabbing Mickey's hand and stopping him. He tugged him back in front of him and placed his hands on Mickey's hips, holding him in place. He slouched down a few inches to bring himself eye level with Mickey.
Mickey refused to look in his eyes. He hated feeling this vulnerable with Ian. It was still something he was trying to get used to. He had never opened himself up to someone like this before, and it was the scariest fucking thing he'd ever done.
"Hey," Ian said again and smiled softly when Mickey finally looked at him. "It's okay to ask your boyfriend out on a date, Mickey. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"What the fuck isn't there to be embarrassed about?" Mickey said flatly.
Ian wrapped a hand around the back of Mickey's neck and pressed their foreheads together. "You know you never have to be embarrassed around me, Mick. About anything."
Mickey took in Ian's words and then looked into his eyes again, suddenly relaxing. "It's just such a fucking fag thing to do...asking your boyfriend on a date, but I want to do it," he said. "I want to go to dinner with you and be with you in public and-"
"Hold my hand?"
"I never said all that," Mickey said, pulling away from Ian's grasp playfully.
Ian smiled and watched as Mickey headed to the kitchen for a beer. His eyes fell on the brunette's ass and he couldn't help but wonder if Mickey put out on the first date.
A couple hours later, Ian looked up when Mickey entered their bedroom, fresh from his shower. His mouth nearly dropped open when he saw him.
Mickey was wearing dark denim jeans and a dark blue button down shirt, complete with a black tie.
"You look fucking incredible," Ian said, setting aside his notebook. He stood up from the bed and walked to his boyfriend. "Let's skip dinner and a movie and just fuck right now."
Mickey laughed as he fixed his tie, pretending as if his heart wasn't thumping wildly in his chest. "Nah, man. I put a lot of planning into tonight. The fucking can wait 'til later."
"So, you do put out on the first date?"
Mickey smirked at him.
Ian laughed and fixed Mickey's collar. "So, you really planned this whole thing, huh?"
"Svetlana helped," Mickey said, avoiding Ian's eyes again. Since when the fuck did he get so nervous around Ian? He felt like such a little bitch.
Ian hooked a finger under Mickey's chin and tilted his face up. "Well, just so you know, you look fucking hot." He leaned down and kissed Mickey sweetly on the mouth before pulling away. "Now I gotta change, or I'm going to look like a big fucking shlub next to you."
"Not possible, Gallagher," Mickey said, turning his head so that he could glance at Ian's ass. Oh, fuck yeah he was putting out on the first date.
When Mickey had first asked him to go to dinner, Ian wasn't really sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.
"Spiaggia, Mick?" Ian asked. "We can't afford this. Are you crazy?"
Mickey looked at him from behind the wheel, his eyebrow cocked. "You let me worry about the money."
"But-"
"Shut the fuck up," Mickey said warmly. He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door for Ian, feeling so damn queer, but when Ian stepped out of the car and gave him that look, he didn't care so much about how it looked. They weren't in downtown Chicago at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, standing on a busy sidewalk; it was just them.
"Opening doors for me now," Ian said as he climbed out. "Careful, I might get used to it."
Mickey closed the door and pressed up against Ian just enough to cause Ian's adam's apple to bob nervously.
"Come on," Mickey said, nodding his head back towards the restaurant as he handed his keys to the valet.
Ian smiled before following Mickey. He wished he could take his boyfriend's hand, but knew everything had to be taken in baby steps. The fact that Mickey was even taking him out on a date spoke volumes to him.
Once they were seated, a waiter came to take their order.
"Can I start you off with something to drink?"
"Uh, I'll have a beer."
Ian lifted his eyes to Mickey, unable to stop his grin. Not this again.
The waiter began listing off their very expensive beer and wine list, but Mickey stopped him. "Just beer."
The waiter nodded, looking put off, before looking at Ian.
"I'll just have a water," Ian said, having not brought his fake ID with him.
"Very well," the waiter said, bowing a little before leaving them.
"The fuck was that?" Mickey asked, staring after the waiter with a frown. "Fucker did a curtsey and shit."
Ian coughed a laugh into his fist and glanced over at the next table over, who were glancing at Mickey in slight disdain. "You got a problem?" he asked, feeling defensive of his boyfriend.
The snooty couple turned their heads, whispering amongst themselves.
Ian looked back at Mickey and watched as he began tearing greedily into the fresh baked bread. "Seriously, Mick, we could have just gone to Popeye's, or something. You know I'm not high maintenance."
"I wanted to do something nice for you," Mickey said.
Ian smiled and ached to reach over to grab Mickey's hand, but refrained. The waiter returned with his water and Mickey's beer and asked for their order. "We'll need a minute," Ian said.
Mickey opened his menu and perused the selections. "What the fuck? I can't even pronounce half this shit."
Ian could tell the neighboring table was just itching to glance in their direction again, but they knew better. He opened his own menu and scanned the choices. "Hm, they have squid ink pasta. I might get that."
"Fuck is that?"
"Just like it says; pasta made with squid ink. You should try it. It's actually not bad."
"Fuck if I'm putting that shit in my mouth."
"Since when are you picky about what you put in your mouth?" Ian asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Mickey lifted his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Ian grinned and then looked back down at his menu.
"When the fuck did you ever have squid ink pasta, anyway?"
"It's not important," Ian said, not wanting to get into that conversation.
"Well, now you have me curious, so I want to fucking know."
"Mickey," Ian sighed, knowing his boyfriend wasn't going to drop it. "Fine. I tried it one time when I went out with...with Ned."
"Old, decrepit fagman?"
The lady at the table over finally snuck a disapproving look at Mickey.
"Hi!" Mickey exclaimed towards her, his eyebrows shooting up. "Take a fucking picture. It'll last longer."
Ian ran a hand over his face and shook his head.
Mickey looked back at Ian, still smarting from his irritation.
"Look, let's just change the subject, okay?" Ian said. "I don't want to ruin the night."
Mickey grumbled something under his breath.
Ian smiled. "You're so sexy when you're jealous, you know that?"
"I'm not fucking jealous," Mickey said as he reached for his beer and guzzled half of it in three gulps.
Ian watched him as he carefully removed his foot from his shoe and then placed his foot in Mickey's lap.
"Ian, what the fuck?" Mickey nearly hissed, causing half of the restaurant to glance in their direction.
"What?" Ian asked with an arched eyebrow as he sipped his water. Under the table, he began rubbing his foot against Mickey's crotch.
Mickey shot him a look, even though he was starting to look a little hot around the collar.
"Are you gentleman ready to order?" The waiter asked, suddenly next to their table.
"Uh, we're going to need another minute," Ian said, his eyes still focused on Mickey's as his foot continued its torture in Mickey's lap.
The waiter looked none-too-pleased as he nodded and walked away.
"Ian, I'd fucking stop that if I were you."
"Stop what?" Ian asked innocently.
Mickey bit his lip and closed his eyes, Ian's foot doing insane shit to him. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was coming in his pants. How could someone be so fucking good at a damn foot job? "Seriously, Ian, fuck," he drawled out.
"Oh, that is disgusting!" the woman next to them finally yelped out, having caught on to what they were doing.
Ian immediately removed his foot from Mickey's lap, his face flushing red.
"Why'd you stop?" Mickey gasped.
"We have an audience."
"So, let them fucking watch."
"Folks, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the waiter said, suddenly next to their table again.
Ian and Mickey looked at each other and then burst into laughter. They both stood up and made their way outside, followed closely by a bouncer.
"Relax, dick, we're going," Mickey said to the man as they walked towards the valet.
Ian let out a hearty laugh and tossed his head back. "What the fuck!"
Mickey looked at him, his grin spread wide. He loved when Ian laughed. "What?"
"Leave it to us to get kicked out of a fucking restaurant within ten minutes!" Ian said, still gasping for breath through his laughter. "We shouldn't be allowed in public!"
Mickey laughed too and, without really thinking about it, he grabbed Ian by the hand and tugged him against his chest. He wrapped his arms around his waist, not caring about who saw or what anyone thought.
Ian's laughter died down a little as the seriousness of the situation dawned on him. For the first time, he and Mickey were out in the open, embraced in each other's arms for everyone to see...and Mickey looked like he couldn't be happier. Ian leaned down and pressed his lips to Mickey's, kissing him slow and long, not wanting to pull away. And he didn't, until the valet finally brought their car around.
Mickey smiled and pressed his forehead to Ian's lips, knowing it was such a fucking girl thing to do, but not caring. "I'm sorry your date was ruined."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ian asked. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
Mickey smiled as he opened the door for Ian. "Fuck, me neither. You still want to catch that movie?"
"Nah," Ian said. "You know us; we'd just end up giving each other blow jobs in the back of the theater."
"And that's a bad thing, why?"
Ian grabbed Mickey's tie and tugged him in so that their lips were only an inch apart. "Because I want to take you home and fuck you until you can't remember your name.
Mickey swallowed hard as he stared into Ian's eyes. "Well, let's fucking go then," he said as he shut the door and jogged around to the driver's side. Once inside the car, he snuck a look at his boyfriend and licked his lips, anxious to get home.