First gallavich fic, inspired by Noel Fisher's tweet the other month...

'Hey, Mick, I was just about to- Mickey, what the fuck is that?!' Ian asked abruptly as soon as he turned around to face his boyfriend, his smile morphing into a disbelieving glare.

'Uh, what's what?' Mickey mumbled, playing dumb.

Ian roughly grabbed onto Mickey's shoulder and the side of his head to further expose his neck.

'Ay! What the fuck? You tryna' snap my neck or some shit?!' Mickey fruitlessly tried to claw and slap at Ian's hands in an attempt to dislodge them.

'Is that a fucking piece of ginger on your neck? Or a Goblin's leg or what?'

'Goblin...? What-' Mickey winced as Ian prodded at the ink. 'Ah, fuck, don't do that, it's still fresh.'

'Is this why you didn't come home last night?' Ian finally released him only to step back, cross his arms and raise a judgemental eyebrow.

'Put your fuckin' chin away,' Mickey groused and Ian self-consciously tilted his head down. 'Okay, yeah, sorry, whatever,' he grumbled, lightly rubbing the tender skin on his neck.

Ian continued to stare at the shorter man. 'What the hell happened?'

'I was out with Iggy, alright? Jesus, man, what does it matter? Who are you, my mom? Fuck off my case.'

Ian scoffed and swivelled around, throwing the dish towel he realised he was still holding back on the drying rack, calming himself down. 'A tattoo, though? Really?'

Mickey rolled his eyes and stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice. 'Hey, it's not a big deal, ar'ight?' He looked at Ian with both eyebrows elevated, and if he were one to be completely comfortable with casual affection, he would have wound his arms around Ian's waist to accentuate his point and placate him.

Ian sighed and a smirk spread across his lips. 'Ginger… and the connotations of that would be…?'

All he got in response was an eye roll and an already tattooed middle finger as Mickey walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Ian chuckled, previous concern melting off him.

'So-'

'Don't say anything,' Mickey growled, taking a large swig from the can.

Ian shrugged amusedly, biceps bulging as he crossed them tightly over his chest again. 'It's kinda hard to not address the… blindingly obvious new addition,' he sniggered, angling his head towards him.

Mickey rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the counter opposite Ian in resignation, glancing tiredly over at him, a silent go-ahead for him to start the barrage of questions.

'How did you, a Milkovich, get so black out drunk that you got a tattoo from an actual parlour? I didn't even know you could get drunk anymore.'

'Fuck off, I wasn't that hammered. Oh- come o- don't raise your fuckin' eyebrows at me, douchebag.'

Ian held his hands up in front of him. 'I'm sorry, but isn't there actual proof? Or am I looking at a sober decision right now?'

'Christ, just… okay, yeah, I got fucked up and thought, yeah, why the fuck not.' He shrugged non-committedly.

'Mmhm, okay, yeah. What did you ask the guy to do for ya? Did you just come right out with the usual "small chunk of ginger as a gift to my life love" spiel?'

Mickey ground his teeth at Ian's change of heart and how now he was absolutely loving the entire situation and how much he could irritate Mickey with his sarcasm. 'You think I fuckin' remember? Nah, that part of the night seems suspiciously blank if you must know, Gallagher.'

Suddenly, Ian was directly in front of Mickey, crowding him against the counter with his arms and keeping him there with his hips. 'I can't help but feel this-' he paused to brush his lips over the sore flesh where the tattoo was situated, '-has something to do with me.' Ian then exhaled over the skin. Mickey barely supressed a shudder and swallowed deeply.

'Yeah? How you figure that?'

He breathed out a laugh and leaned back slightly, looking into Mickey's eyes. 'Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was me… Maybe it was to do with another redhead you fucked. Must've been true love if you got that tattooed for them.'

Mickey's eyebrows hit his hairline and he grinned. 'Yeah, okay. True love. Sure, Gallagher, sure.'

'Thing is, I could take this new ink two ways depending on your answer.'

'Oh yeah?' Mickey murmured, hating how breathy his voice sounded.

'Mm,' Ian breathed into his skin, making sure Mickey was definitely aroused before completely pulling off him, relishing the whine it drew from Mickey's throat.

'Where the fuck you goin' now?'

Ian snickered and backed out of the kitchen. 'I could take this as a, I suppose, sweet gesture, or as something I could punish you for.' As if to emphasise his point, he snapped his teeth.

'You turnin' into Batty Sheila? Anyway, whatever, I gotta take a piss first.'

Ian sighed and stalked off to their bedroom. 'You're so damn romantic, Mick.'

'Yeah, well, you put up with me so far… Ay, by the way, there's no way you're actually biting this, though, it's sore as fuck!' Mickey called from the bathroom, not bothering to close the door.

'You're a pussy!' Ian yelled back, settling against the fresh covers on the bed, secretly wondering what the newly inked flesh would taste like under his tongue.