Ian swore under his breath and stood up so fast that he knocked over a machete that had been leaning against the nightstand. The handle thudded on the floor loudly and Ian winced. The noises that he'd heard in the kitchen suddenly stopped and he tip-toed toward the bathroom. He accidentally knocked over an empty beer can that had been on the chest of drawers and Ian froze as it fell loudly onto the floorboards.

"Hey asswipe!" Mickey yelled from behind the door. "You picked the wrong fuckin' house!"

Ian's eyes widened. Wasn't he meant to be on a drug run?

"Mickey?" Ian yelled back.

Mickey kicked open the door and lowered the handgun in his hands with a confused look on his face. "What the fuck, Gallagher?"

Ian blinked at him nervously. "Uh… hi," he answered weakly.

Mickey walked towards him with a weird look on his face. "Did you break into my fuckin' house?"

"No. I mean, technically, yeah. Legally, I mean." Ian said quietly.

"…Why?" Mickey asked.

"Uh…"

"Were you lookin' for me?"

"Uh… yes." Ian replied dumbly.

"Heh," the older boy said with a smirk. "I knew you couldn't keep away."

Ian rolled his eyes inwardly. Mickey tossed the gun onto the bed and then lifted his vest up and off over his head.

"So, why are you home?" Ian asked, looking away from the Milkovich boy and trying to change the subject. "I thought there was a shipment coming in, or something."

Mickey looked at him in confusion. "How do you know that?" He asked, stepping closer to Ian with a smirk.

Ian stuttered a little. "I just heard from one of your dad's buddies at the Alibi." Ian answered.

Mickey smirked. "And you thought you'd break into my house while everyone was gone."

"…On the off chance that you'd be here, yeah." Ian replied.

Mickey grinned at him and stopped just a few inches in front of him. "You do realise that if any if my dad or any of my brothers had caught you here, you'd have a bullet between your eyeballs right now?"

Ian smirked. "Well, you know, live fast die young."

Mickey laughed in confusion. "What the fuck's gotten into you, Firecrotch? First you go and fuck up your chance in the army and now you're breaking into people's houses?"

Ian didn't say anything for a moment, but he glanced down at the older boy's chest momentarily. There was a patch of sunburn on his left shoulder and the skin was starting to peel a little bit, and his freckles seemed darker on his arms and face.

Mickey followed his line of sight and smirked again.

Ian looked up at his face, his eyes dark. "Well, war changes people."

Mickey looked a little surprised for a moment, but it faded quickly.

"So do you have a gun I could borrow?" Ian asked suddenly, folding his arms.

"What?"

"I came to see if you had what I was looking for."

"It depends on what it is you're looking for." Mickey replied after a moment.

"AK-47."

Mickey laughed. "Seriously? What, you got some more terrorists to kill?"

Ian winced a bit internally. "I just wanna keep up with my aim, is all."

"And you need an assault rifle to do that?" Mickey asked. "I usually just use a handgun. Maybe we could hang out under the L sometime."

"Hn," Ian replied, "maybe. So do you have one?"

"Should have. Come with me."

They walked into the kitchen where Mickey opened a cupboard that looked like it had been a pantry at one point and Ian's eyes widened. It was like a thug start-up kit. Masks, knives, guns, batons, a couple of samurai swords and even a fucking riot shield. He should've been disturbed and he was in a way, but somehow the terror went hand in hand with the excitement. The redhead laughed as Mickey sorted through a few guns and then pulled out the AK-47 and turned to hand it to him.

"One of my brothers built it from parts, so there's no serial number or anything. It's totally untraceable if you fuck up and shoot someone." Mickey explained. "There's a round in it already. You'll have to come see me if you need another one."

Ian turned the gun over in his hands for a few minutes and his heart rate sped up as he clutched it tightly. He felt weak and powerful at the same time, and as his hands shook he could almost see his camouflage print uniform on his body again, weighing him down in a way he couldn't explain.

Blinking, he looked up at Mickey and felt the building terror recoil as if it had been bitten. The older boy frowned at him. "Thanks." Ian said stiffly, and turned to leave.

Mickey grabbed him by the arm. "Not so fast, Firecrotch," he said, "what am I getting in return?"

Ian looked at him blankly. "Huh?"

Mickey ran his tongue over his cheek and raised an eyebrow suggestively. "You didn't think I was gonna lend it to you for free, did you?" He asked, his voice dripping with lust.

If only you knew what I was doing for you. Ian sighed and closed his eyes. "I can't, Mick." He answered.

"Why not?" Mickey asked, feeling a little bit of dread seep in.

"I…" Ian began. "I have a boyfriend."

Mickey was quiet for a long moment, and then he looked surprised. "Are you serious?" He scoffed disbelievingly.

Ian nodded and looked at the floor. "Yeah."

"Who is he?" He asked, stepping closer to the younger boy angrily. "Is it that old guy?"

"No-"

"What, is it one of his friends from the geriatric ward?" Mickey teased. "That is where you do all your cruisin', isn't it?"

"No, he's a guy from the club I bounce."

Mickey was silent.

"And he's a year younger than me. He lives on the North Side with his dad."

Mickey's eyes seemed to get a little wetter, but he just licked the corner of his mouth and looked away. Ian's heart felt like it was tearing in two at the sight.

"Can I go now?" Ian asked, his voice breaking only a tiny bit.

Mickey didn't say anything for a minute, and Ian turned to leave.

"Do you love him?" Mickey's voice was small and broken, and Ian looked over his shoulder at him in surprise. His own eyes were a little wet now, and it took everything in him to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Do you love your wife?" Ian shot back venomously.

"Fuck you!" Mickey shouted, storming up to him and grabbing Ian by the shoulder. "How the fuck could you even think that?! She's just some hooker my dad dug out of nowhere-"

"Do you love me?" Ian asked, backing him against the wall.

Mickey gasped and furrowed his brow, looking up at the redhead defensively. "What?" Mickey said in surprise, a little breathless.

"Do. You. Love. Me? Shall I say it in Spanish?" Ian asked, pressing the older boy against the wall.

"I-"

Ian raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Mickey rubbed his nose and looked away. A tear rolled down his cheek, and then he looked up at Ian with more vulnerability than anyone had probably ever seen on the Milkovich boy's face. Ian was transfixed by it suddenly, and he looked down at him sadly. Parting his lips, he panted and pressed himself against the older boy before he brought a hand up to wipe the tear away with a knuckle. Mickey's nostrils flared slightly and his brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked up at the redhead. Ian's hand rested on Mickey's shoulder before he slowly leaned his head down. Breaths peppered the space between them and everything stilled as Ian's nose brushed Mickey's and he opened his mouth slightly as if he was going to kiss him. Closing his eyes, the two of them panted into each other's mouths and Mickey brought his hands up to grab the back of the younger boy's head. Ian ran a hand down his body but pulled his mouth away from his, the gun dangling by his side as he rested his forehead against Mickey's.

Mickey tried to press his mouth against Ian's and close the distance between them, but Ian pulled away slightly. "I've got to go." He murmured, his heart thudding furiously in his chest.

He stepped away from the older boy and turned to walk out the door, not looking back as Mickey leaned against the wall, panting and staring at the spot where the redhead had stood.

As it turned out, Carl's shoplifting habit had turned into a shoplifting business, and this was convenient when it was announced that there was apparently going to be a block party for the 4th of July. But, being Canaryville, it wasn't the average block party – drugs and booze were the main things on the menu. Carl had been to Party City a few times with Little Hank and stolen a few hundred dollars worth of decorations and novelties for various people in the neighbourhood, and in addition to their other 'jobs', somehow they'd ended up with nearly eight hundred bucks between them.

Fiona kept some of it for the bills and a few things that needed replacing around the house, but it had been decided that the rest of it was going to be spent on fireworks. Somehow, it had turned into a competition between some of the neighbours and as expected, the Gallaghers were determined to be the best.

Lip and Mandy had returned for the summer, and even though Ian hadn't replied to any of their letters, they'd made up fairly quickly. After Ian had given his brother a black eye, they'd shared a playful fight and then made up. Mandy hugged him tightly and beamed at him, promising to talk to him about it later.

A week later, Lip and Ian had gone out in the van to meet the guy who Mandy had suggested. Apparently he was some Chinese guy who sold illegally imported fireworks from the trunk of his car, and her brothers had gone to him when they'd wanted revenge on some guy who'd pissed them off for reasons unknown.

"Nothing says Americana like waiting around for a Chinese dude to sell you explosives," Lip said, taking a drag on his cigarette as they sat in the parked car behind an abandoned apartment building.

Ian laughed. "Or paying for it with the money your ten year old brother earned by shoplifting for kids around the neighbourhood."

Lip laughed. "I'm pretty proud of him, you know. He's turning into quite the businessman."

"Yeah," Ian laughed, "he'll be giving Debs a run for her money soon."

It was quite for a minute, and Lip turned to face his brother with a curious look. "So," he began, eyeing the redhead. "Fiona told me about Zack."

"Hn." Ian grunted, looking out of the window. As he did, something caught his eye in the wing mirror. It took him a moment to recognise the face at this distance, but as the man turned a corner and walked into the building, he saw that it was Terry.

"I'm just really happy for you." Lip said. "I know how upset you were about Mickey. It's good to see you movin' on, man."

Ian just glared at the reflection in the wing mirror silently.

"Ian."

Silence.

"Ian!"

"What?"

"Did you hear a word of what I just said?"

"Yes, I have a boyfriend!" Ian snapped. The windows of the building were missing, so from where they were sitting behind it, Ian could see Terry in the overgrown courtyard. He was talking to a shady-looking man and seemed to be arguing with him over something. It settled down after a moment, and he left again, shaking his head and tucking something into his pocket.

Lip puffed out a smoky laugh at the reply and shook his head, looking out of his own window. "Shit, I think that's him," he hissed, pointing over to his right at a man who pulled up in a blue Mazda.

Ian followed his brother's line of sight, and they waited for him to get out of the car before they got out and walked over to him.

After a few questions about which ones had the loudest bang, the biggest sparks and the most flares (as they'd promised to Carl) plus a little haggling, they loaded two hundred dollars worth of illegal fireworks into the van and drove home. As they pulled away, Ian looked out of the rear view mirror and watched Terry walking back to the man in the courtyard.