They've covered the floor with newspapers, the few items of furniture they own having been crammed into the small bedroom. There are two cans of paint on one of the corners, one light yellow and the other bright orange, and paintbrushes and rolls beside them. It all started because Ian wouldn't stop complaining about how shabby the apartment they shared seemed, how depressing it was to look at it, how he couldn't stand staring at the same mold stains anymore. It wasn't because Mickey agreed, because he couldn't care less about the apartment, and it wasn't because he wanted to see Ian happy, of course not, it was just that the redheaded wouldn't fucking shut up about it and it was getting beyond annoying, so he suggested they painted it. They could do it themselves, so it wouldn't be very expensive, just the price of the paint (even the paintbrushes had been borrowed from a co-worker). The next problem had been deciding the color; Ian wanted a light color, something soothing and neutral, but Mickey was dead set on orange and couldn't be dissuaded. He said that if he had to do it, at least he'd choose the color, and orange it was. It was Mickey's favorite color. The fact that it was the color of Ian's hair was just a coincidence, of course. Eventually, Ian gave up, managing to at least make Mickey agree on a compromise: two orange walls, two light yellow walls.
And that is why they are now barefoot and wearing their most worn out clothes, heat making sweat pour from their foreheads as they move the rolls and brushes up and down to cover the walls. They have their backs to each other, working on opposite walls, neither of them speaking while the radio in the bedroom blasts some 90's rock songs. Mickey works intently, brow furrowed in determination to finish this as soon as possible as to escape the heat. And have their living room back to normal. And maybe fuck Ian if he still has any energy left after they're done with the painting. Ian nudges his shoulder and he turns to see the most horrific thing he's ever seen. His eyes widen and he nearly chokes.
"What the fuck Gallagher?!", he spits out. Ian is laughing, the bastard, doubled in half with a hand over his stomach and tears pooling at his eyes from laughing too hard.
Mickey fumes, hand clutched into a fist. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Ian wants to say something, probably some witty provocation, but he's laughing too hard to manage anything. Furious, Mickey lifts the roll that's still on his right hand and brings it down on Ian, getting paint over his whole arm, shoulder to hand. That makes him stop. He looks at Mickey with his mouth agape. "The fuck was that for?"
"Stop laughing, shithead. That shit's not funny."
"Jesus, learn to take a joke!" Now angry, Ian grabs the paintbrush that he'd left on the ground and dips it on the yellow paint. Mickey realizes what he's going to do before he actually does it and tries to escape, but it's not enough to avoid the large splashes of paint all over his back as Ian waves the brush in his direction.
"Fuck!" He covers his eyes, cursing at Ian, who launches at him, paintbrush still in hand. Mickey holds his wrists to stop Ian from painting him further. Ian uses his other hand to push Mickey until he loses balance and falls on his ass, but the older boy holds onto him and they fall together. The paintbrush falls from Ian's hand and lands next to them and Mickey quickly grabs it, using his upper body strength and Ian's distraction to flip them over and straddle Ian's shoulders, holding the brush over his head, ready to color Ian's face. They both freeze, breaths short with the sudden surge of adrenaline, and their eyes lock. Mickey smirks, realizing that they're in the same position that started all of this and Ian seems to have followed his thoughts, for he grins wickedly. Mickey tosses the paintbrush aside and pushes his threadbare tank top over his head, moving to the side so that Ian can remove his own clothes. They don't bother going to the bedroom and pay no mind to the newspapers spread underneath their bodies. Mickey hands run down Ian's chest, wasting no time and going straight to what he wants more. He pushes Ian's sweatpants down to his knees, bringing his boxers along, and places open-mouthed kisses on his muscled abdomen, biting and sucking and making Ian squirm under his touch. He runs his tongue over his inner thighs and nips and Ian gasps, bringing his hand to Mickey's hair to guide him to his cock. Mickey lets him, if only because that's exactly what he had in mind anyway. He hovers over Ian's erection, though, taking his time and lowering his had slowly, much too slowly for Ian.
"Just do it already!"
Mickey smirks and dives in, taking a couple of inches into his mouth in one single motion and pulling back right after, a trail of saliva joining his lower lip to the head of Ian's hardened cock. He envelops it with his mouth again, taking only the head this time and sucking on it intently, then running his tongue through the slit, while the hand he isn't using to support himself caresses Ian's balls, massaging them earnestly. He bobs his head up and down, taking more of Ian each time, and the younger boy arches his back and groans, head falling back and eyelids fluttering shut. He's quickly brought back to reality as Mickey pulls back to remove his own pants. He frowns, wondering what Mickey is up to, but doesn't even need to ask, because the next thing he knows, Mickey's ass is on his face and he's looking over his shoulder with a smirk.
"If I'm doing this, I want something in return, Firecrotch."
Ian grins and bites Mickey's cheek, making him yelp.
"Ow! Son of a bitch!"
Ian laughs and licks the wound, sucking on it, and it seems to appease Mickey, who leans forward and rests his left elbow next to Ian's hip. He uses his right hand to grab Ian's dick and guide it into his mouth again, resuming his previous ministrations. He sucks on it vigorously, while Ian works on his hole, using his long fingers to part Mickey's ass cheeks so that he can lick a broad stripe up it. He makes circle motions with his tongue and Mickey swallows around him, making him groan and thrust up. Mickey chokes and pulls back, using his hand to jerk Ian off and putting one of his balls on his mouth to suck it, then moving to the other. Ian dips his tongue into Mickey's hole, opening it more with his fingers and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He pulls back and puts two fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva before pressing them to Mickey's hole, teasing him. Mickey whimpers and pulls back to tell him to get the fuck on with it already and Ian grins again, pushing his fingers in only a bit and withdrawing. He repeats the gesture a few times, twisting his fingers, then pushes inside more, going slowly until his fingers are all the way into Mickey's ass. Mickey moans around his balls and goes back to sucking his cock, hollowing his cheeks and flattening his tongue to engulf all his length, nose buried in his fire pubes. Ian releases a deep groan and stills, concentrating on not coming within seconds. He takes his fingers back and slams them back in again, moving fast and with a purpose, angling them so that they're brushing Mickey's prostate every time he moves them. He maneuvers his arm around to use his other hand to grab Mickey's cock and pump his hand, running his thumb through the slit to spread pre-come. Mickey's muscles clench around his fingers as he pushes them in and out and Mickey moans deeply around his cock. The sensory overload is more than enough to bring him over the edge and, before he knows it, he's coming, Mickey swallowing eagerly around him. He thrusts his hips up and releases a guttural moan, his partner momentarily forgotten as he rides off his orgasm. Mickey releases his softening cock with a loud pop and turns around so that he's facing Ian and straddling his shoulders again. He grabs his dick and pumps furiously, thrusting up in time with his hand movements. He swats Ian's hand when he tries to help, so the redhead moves to run his short fingernails down Mickey's chest, leaving parallel red marks along it. And then Mickey's coming as well, the white liquid falling in spurs on Ian's face, making him close his eyes in reflex, though it falls mostly on his cheek and mouth. He licks his lips, enjoying Mickey's taste, and the older boy smiles.
"That's a better paint on your face." Ian grins back at him. He doesn't feel defeated, not at all, not when Mickey's smiling so radiantly at him. The brunette pauses and looks up at the yellow heart painted on the wall beside him, with IAN + MICKEY written inside it.
"We're painting that wall orange."