**Set after Mickey and Ian sleep together at the docks and they head back to the panel van that they wake up in the next morning. Basically, insert missing scene from in between those two amazing ones**
You're under my skin man, the fuck can I do? Hmm, what can I do?
Mickey guided Ian into the black panel van, hand in hand. It was dimly lit and Mickey swore loudly when he accidently banged his head on the top of the door. He motioned for Ian to sit down, quietly sliding the door closed after him. Ian chose to sit on top of what looked like a pile of sheets.
"What the fuck is that smell?" Ian asked as he breathed in the scent of rotten food and unwashed clothes. Mickey shrugged.
"This is where I live now. It's not a fucking mansion, but it beats going back to the doghouse," he replied as he grabbed the half empty packet of Marlboros lying next to him and popped one into his mouth. As he lit it up, he offered one to Ian. Ian slid a cigarette out of the box and placed it between his lips.
"Let me light it for you," Mickey offered, moving over to Ian so that their faces were almost touching. He lit Ian's cigarette with the end of his own and they both blew small puffs of smoke into each other's faces. Mickey didn't move back. The two locked eyes, reading one another's faces, making mental note of all the wrinkles, freckles and scars that were new.
Ian wasn't sure what to feel. He loved Trevor, he really did. They hadn't officially said it to one another, but Trevor wasn't one to really say how he felt. He did it with his actions and so did Ian. They often bought each other lunch when the other wasn't working and Ian couldn't count the amount of times Trevor had driven him around town, knowing well that the Chicago public transport was not as desirable as an actual car. Ian loved that about Trevor; how selfless and caring he was. Trevor never faulted in being a loyal and trustworthy boyfriend and Ian always prided himself on always being faithful to him. But the return of Mickey Milkovich had changed that. Ian wasn't entirely sure why he was here, sitting in a van with an escaped felon as if nothing had ever happened. Mickey must have been reading Ian's mind.
"So, why are you here man?" Mickey asked, putting his cigarette out in his makeshift ashtray that was just an empty can of beer.
"I…," Ian began. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Mickey he had ditched his boyfriend, called in sick at work, lied to his family and risked everything he had worked so hard for because he still loved him. He wanted to tell Mickey that he never stopped loving him. That Caleb, Trevor, all of the guys he had screwed since Mickey left hadn't even meant half of what Mickey had meant to him. That Ian thought about Mickey every goddamn day since he was arrested. That sometimes, he would dream that Mickey was holding him and when he woke, he realised it wasn't Mickey and every time that realisation was made, it would break him. Ian missed Mickey so much. That was why he was there, because he needed to see those blue eyes again. Instead of saying any of this, Ian decided to simply show him.
He leaned into Mickey's face, grasping his cheeks with both hands and pulled him close. He kissed him so hard that their teeth accidentally clashed, but they eventually found the rhythm that they were so used to. The moulding of their lips that they had been yearning for, that Ian thought about so often. Mickey's lips were familiar, they were soft, moist and they felt like home. Ian pulled away from the kiss slowly, keeping his hands on Mickey's cheeks. He looked Mickey dead in the eye.
"Because I fucking missed you shithead," Ian finally admitted. Mickey smiled, his eyes slightly welling up with tears.
"I fucking missed you too," Mickey responded. Ian let go of Mickey's cheeks, laid down and motioned for Mickey to lay on his chest. Ian wrapped his arms tightly around Mickey's body and pulled him in as close as he could, almost as if he was trying to imprint Mickey's scent onto his clothes.
(X)
Initially, Ian had no idea what to say to Mickey, but suddenly, the words were flying from his mouth. The boys laughed and reminisced about memories, Ian told Mickey everything he had been up to and Mickey told Ian what it had been like in prison.
"I don't think I would have lasted a second if I wasn't raised in the Southside man. Those fuckers in there are big, but they're also dumbasses. My expertise in fighting and my height actually worked to my advantage," Mickey said. Ian kissed the top of his head.
"I, I'm sorry you ended up in there Mick. It was my fault. I was the one who made Sami call the MPs on me. I was the one who broke your heart. Fuck, if I could take it all back…," Ian's words were stopped by Mickey's lips. The kiss was slow and Ian melted into it. Mickey pulled away and rested his head on Ian's chest once again.
"Ian, I don't blame you. That bitch deserved what she got and with Milkovich genes, only two things would have happened to me in this life. I would knock up some broad, which I already did or I would end up in jail. I am officially the most successful Milkovich in the family," he joked. Ian tried to laugh, but the guilt was overwhelming.
"Look, I know the situation I'm in now isn't ideal. If I get caught, fuck knows how long I'll have to go back for. But I'm making the most of it. I did what I needed to do. I found you." Those simple words comforted Ian more than he could express.
"So, what are you going to do?" Ian asked.
"I run or we run," Mickey responded. Ian closed his eyes, almost as if the weight of Mickey's answer had forced his eyelids shut and a wave of tiredness overcame him. He thought about what Fiona had said. How her life was a lot better for not running away with the boy she loved. Ian thought about the life he had at that moment. He had great friends, he had a great boyfriend and he had a great job. Everything had fallen into place, his bipolar was under control, but he also had a gaping hole in his heart. A hole that had been carved the day he had broken up with Mickey. The day he told him he didn't need him anymore. But Ian was and had been lying to himself. Mickey Milkovich was bad news, he was a Southside piece of trash, he was a convicted felon, he was on the run, but he also had a hold on Ian that no amount of happiness could shake. Ian didn't need Mickey, he WANTED him.
"I'll sleep on it Mick," Ian said, feeling his whole body relax as he held onto Mickey. Ian felt himself falling asleep, drifting into a dream where he could picture himself and Mickey sitting on a tropical island somewhere, sipping cocktails, shit-talking and living a life free of attempted murder charges, bipolar and bad memories.
"I love you," Mick whispered. Ian grinned.
"I love you too."
DID EVERYONE DIE AT LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE? I CAN'T STOP WATCHING IT BECAUSE GALLAVICH IS BACK. IT HAS BEEN REVIVED AND OMG, I COULDN'T NOT WRITE THIS LITTLE SCENE!
