The sleepover, getting caught, the aftermath.

He'll be here in 45 minutes! I try to act like it's no big deal, Ian crashing at my place until dad gets back, but the truth is just knowing I'm gonna wake up next to him tomorrow has me feeling waaaaaaay closer to giddythan I'm comfortable with. I've literally checked myself in the mirror a bunch of times to make sure it's not completely obvious that I've basically turned into a girl. I check the time again. 43 minutes. Oh, COME ON!

I decide to tidy up the house a little bit to distract myself. I'm not gonna bust out cleaning products or anything, just straighten up the piles of crap, and maybe sweep. Funny thing is, he and I are gonna have days and days of total privacy, we can fuck in the middle of the hallway if we want to, and what's the thing I can't stop thinking about? I'm wondering how Gallagher sleeps.

Will he sprawl out? Hog the covers? Cuddle up to me? Fuck I hope his feet aren't cold! I try not to jump ahead in my mind to the first night after dad comes back and I gotta go back to sleeping alone, but it's a difficult thought to avoid. Will a few nights of staying over be enough to make the pillows smell like him?

I promise myself I won't tackle him and drop to my knees the second he walks in the door, and for once, I stick to it. Only by a distance of five steps, but I have a proven lack of discipline when it comes to all things Ian, so I'm counting it. Five steps in the door before I blow him. Woohoo. Big fucking victory for me.

He moans, runs his hands through my hair, says my name over and over. I wasn't all that great at sucking dick when we first got together, but now? Shit, I could teach a goddamn class. Show those porno punks how it's done. He tells me how good my mouth feels on him. That I'm amazing. That I make him so happy. I wanna go door to door telling all my garbage neighbors I make Ian Gallagher happy. Yeah, it probably means he has the common sense of a brick, but I don't care.

I can tell from the way he's breathing and the look on his face that he's getting close. Just a few more seconds. I focus, and swallow everything. Something else I've gotten pretty good at. The taste of cum took some getting used to back when we first started this thing, but now it doesn't bother me. I'm neutral. Doesn't matter either way, semen could taste like old gym socks and I'd still tolerate it for Ian's sake. Bitch does love his blowjobs.

"So," I smile up at him, "snacks and a movie?"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The list of good things that have ever happened in my life could fit on a post it note, but at the top of that list, hands down, is waking up with Gallagher pressed against my back. His arm slung over me. Check this shit out, I think. I'm Mickey 'little spoon' Milkovich. Didn't see that one coming.

I roll over carefully so I don't wake him up, then I stare and stare and stare at him like he's an actual goddamn miracle. Dammit. You're in fucking love, you stupidass fairy! So I'm screwed. No way around it. There's been a clock on this relationship (relationship?!) since day one, and now when the countdown hits zero, it's gonna be the worst thing I've ever felt.

There's gotta be a way I can keep him! I tell myself. Some fucking way to make dad understand. The fantasy keeps going. Maybe if I sit him down and explain how great I feel being with Ian? How much this matters to me? Maybe he'll be glad I'm with someone as nice as Ian. I tell myself I'm gonna try. First thing when dad gets back. Yeah. That night. I'll make us steaks, bust out the good tequila, then I'll steer the conversation toward . . . um . . . . how being a man means standing up for yourself, and . . . something like that. Kinda lead up to the boyfriend thing. It might work.

Ian squirms a little bit, and his eyelids start to flutter. "Hey there," he whispers, stroking my arm.

This is what perfect feels like. My mind is made up. This WILL work.

Less than four hours later it all blows up. We're both beat to shit, there's a prostitute I've never met before riding my cock, and nothing hurts worse than the look on Ian's face. He looks destroyed. Ruined. You ruined him, Mickey. You fucking asshole! I can't believe I invited him to crash here. I should have known there was a chance Dad could come home early. It happens, some jobs go quicker than you think they will. And nothing good ever lasts for you, I remind myself. Selfish prick. Ian doesn't deserve this garbage. If you really loved him, you'd have broken things off ages ago, then this wouldn't be happening to him! I look at Ian and think of where he could be right now if not for me. Holding hands with some nice, well adjusted, out-and-proud guy. A guy who can treat him right. Go find that guy, Ian, I think as I toss the hooker on the couch. I'm nothing but a wreck.