Ian was having a little bit of a problem. He couldn't stop thinking about his wedding planner.

It'd been three days since he'd been to Mickey's apartment. Three days since Mickey had confessed to having a small crush on him. Three days since Ian had stupidly leaned over and decided to press a kiss to those amazing fucking lips.

It had been three days, and he couldn't stop thinking about any of it, no matter how hard he tried not to. He tried to keep himself busy and distracted with work, but found himself glancing up every five minutes to see if Mickey would walk through the door. He tried to get lost in his running, but every time his feet hit the pavement, he was reminded of how rapidly his heart had pounded in his chest when they had kissed.

Even as he was pounding in and out of his fiancé's ass, gripping Ayden's hips so tight, inching closer and closer to his orgasm, he was thinking about fucking someone else's perfectly plump ass. He was thinking about his bare hips slapping against, what he could only imagine to be, Mickey's perfectly thick, pale thighs.

"Yes, Ian, right there. Shit, baby, so good," Ayden cried out when Ian hit that sweet spot inside of him that made Ayden's vision double.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut, imagining it was Mickey saying those words to him, and he suddenly froze and shuddered through his orgasm.

When he was completely spent, he pulled out and collapsed onto his back, gasping for air and running a hand over his sweaty face. He barely noticed when Ayden rolled out of bed to go clean himself up like he always did. Ayden never wanted to just lie around, didn't like to be dirty, never stayed in bed long enough to bask in the afterglow.

Ian, on the other hand, usually loved basking in the afterglow. He loved to bask in the feeling of his body coming back down from the intense high as he laid in his own sweat and come, and he loved falling blissfully asleep as he stretched out his sore limbs.

Right then, however, he couldn't think about anything else except for the crushing feeling of guilt he felt at the fact that he'd just thought about another man the entire time he'd been having sex with the man he was supposed to marry in a month. If that wasn't the absolute definition of fucked-up, Ian wasn't sure what was.

Ayden came sauntering back into the room a minute later, looking way too put together for someone who'd just had his ass reamed. "What's gotten into you lately?" he asked as he crawled back onto the bed and settled on his back.

"What do you mean?" Ian asked as he lightly feathered his fingers over his own bare stomach.

"You just seem a lot more needy than usual," Ayden said as he got back under the blankets.

"Needy?" Ian asked, slightly annoyed and offended by the term. "Fuck you."

"Stop being dramatic. You know what I mean…horny, riled up," Ayden explained with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ian swallowed thickly and purposely avoided eye contact because he knew exactly why he'd been so riled up lately. "Why? Are you complaining?"

"No, not in the least," Ayden said, as he leaned over and kissed Ian's damp cheek. "Just making an observation. You just can't seem to get enough of me these days. I'm starting to have trouble keeping up." He leaned over in the other direction and turned off the bedside lamp. "I gotta get some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

Ian trailed his eyes over the curve of his fiancé's naked back. He ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily into his hand, knowing he had to do something to try to rectify the situation before it was too late.

Once Ayden was off to work the next morning, Ian plopped down on the couch and scrolled through his phone, his thumb only hesitating over Mickey's name for a few heartbeats before he pressed call.

On the third ring, Mickey answered, sounding breathless.

For a split second, Ian was overcome with indescribable jealousy at the sound of Mickey's heavy breathing, wondering if he'd called Mickey at the worst possible time. He definitely didn't want to hear Mickey being fucked by someone right then.

"Hello?" Mickey asked again when Ian didn't say anything. "Yo, Ian?"

"Oh… hey, Mick, what's up?" Ian said and then slapped his forehead at how stupid he sounded.

There was a chortle on the other end. "You tell me," Mickey answered in amusement. "You called me, asshole."

Ian reclined back against the cushions, his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile just at the sound of Mickey's laugh alone. Shit. He silently berated himself and got back to the task at hand. He had to be serious.

"Uh, are you busy today?" Ian asked. "There's something important I really need to talk to you about."

"Sorry, man, today's no good," Mickey said before speaking to someone in the background, his voice muffled.

Ian's jealousy came roaring back in full force when he heard Mickey whispering to someone. "Did I call you at a bad time?" he snapped, trying to keep the edge from his tone, even though he was pretty sure he failed.

"Yeah, kinda," Mickey answered breathlessly. "I'm stuck at the diner all day. We had a few call-outs, so I'm pulling a fifteen-hour shift. I won't be home until after eleven if I'm lucky."

Ian relaxed immediately when he realized Mickey was at work, not naked and ass-up beneath someone. He slapped his forehead hard and held his head in his hand, knowing he had to pull himself the fuck together. He had no right at all to get jealous about anything. Mickey could fuck all of the South Side, and it wouldn't be any of Ian's goddamn business.

"Which diner do you work at?" Ian found himself asking.

"It's called the White Palace Grill, over on South Canal," Mickey said, putting his hand over the phone again to yell something to someone in the background.

"Yeah, I've heard of it."

"Look, man, I really gotta go," Mickey said. "It's a fucking madhouse here. Text me later or something."

"Yeah, okay," Ian said before hanging up.

There would be no texting later. He had to see Mickey as soon as possible. He had to put an end to things before shit became destructible.

It was the middle of the lunch rush when Mickey saw Ian walk in. He was carrying an armful of plates to a table when he looked up and they locked eyes from across the crowded restaurant. He had to shake himself from his slight daze and delivered the food to his impatient table. After stopping to check on another table and refilling their waters, Mickey made his way over to Ian, who was still loitering by the door. "Hey, what're you doing here, man?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Ian said with a small, flirty smile and a shrug. "Thought I'd stop in, grab a bite to eat."

"Oh, you were in the neighborhood, huh?" Mickey asked with arched eyebrows, not believing Ian for one second.

Ian just shrugged again with a teasing smile.

"And here I thought you were here just to see me," Mickey flirted back before he could stop himself. He watched as Ian hung his head a little, smiled gingerly and scratched at the back of his neck. Was that a fucking blush he saw?

"Well, yeah, that too," Ian said.

"Come on," Mickey said with a jerk of his head. "We're pretty fuckin' packed right now, but you're in luck. I have one empty table in my section." He led Ian to an empty table in the back corner and handed him a menu once he was seated.

Ian scanned over the menu. "So, what's good here?"

"We have awesome breakfast food here. The banana pancakes are fucking delicious, and we're known for our blackberry pie," Mickey said, his pen poised over his notepad. He was doing everything he could to not stare at the other man, who was looking fucking incredible in a tight green V-neck shirt that brought out his eyes.

"I'll have the pie, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream," Ian said, snapping his menu closed and handing it back to Mickey.

"Something to drink?"

"Coffee, lots of sugar."

"Sweet tooth, huh?" Mickey asked, finally looking Ian in the eyes.

"What can I say? I like it sweet," Ian said, a playful glint in his eye.

Mickey cleared his throat and turned to put Ian's order in, not aware that the other man was checking out his ass as he walked away.

Fuck, Ian was screwed.

He had been seriously set on sitting Mickey down and telling him it wasn't going to work out. He'd been set on telling Mickey that he couldn't be his wedding planner anymore because things were getting too weird, too complicated, and he couldn't be around him anymore without the chance of seriously jeopardizing his relationship. But as soon as he'd stepped foot inside the bustling diner and saw Mickey standing there, looking too fucking cute in his white t-shirt, black waiter apron, and a pencil tucked behind his ear, he knew he wasn't going to go through with it. At least not then.

He knew he should have turned around and walked right back out the door before Mickey spotted him, but instead, he found himself following Mickey back to the empty booth at the back of the diner, his gaze falling to Mickey's ass before forcing himself to look away.

As he waited for his pie, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he retrieved it to see that it was a text from Ayden. 'Hey, what r u up to?'

Ian's thumbs hovered over the keypad, the nauseating guilt returning full force.

What could he possibly say? 'oh hey, I'm at our wedding planner's job practically stalking him. I also stared at his ass and I kinda wanna pull him out into the back alley and fuck him against the wall, maybe eat him out a little first. How's your day going?'

Instead, he typed, 'went for a run. maybe going to see my fam l8r.'

Just as Ayden texted back: ''k love u', Mickey returned with his coffee and pie.

Ian stared at the message and then looked up to find Mickey sliding into the seat across from him.

"I get a fifteen-minute break every few hours," Mickey said. "Figured I'd sit for a minute. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Ian slipped his phone back into his pocket, knowing he should just end it right there and then. It was as good a time as any. He should just open his mouth and tell Mickey he couldn't be around him anymore, that he needed to focus on and try to fix his relationship, but when he looked up and locked eyes with Mickey's for a little longer than he should have, he reached forward and grabbed the plate of pie and pulled it closer instead.

"It wasn't important."

Mickey was having trouble not looking at Ian's mouth as he ate his pie.

The guy really did have amazing fucking lips. Mickey couldn't help but wonder what those lips would taste like in an actual, full-blown kiss. He wondered what those lips would feel like wrapped around his…

"This pie really is good," Ian said, breaking Mickey free from his current perverted train of thought.

Mickey squirmed a little and forced himself to look away from Ian's mouth. "I, uh, look, man… there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about." Once he knew he had Ian's undivided attention, he continued, "I'm sorry about the other night. I was completely out of line and I never shoulda put you in that situation. I mean, fuck, you're getting married in a month and, as much of a douche as I think Ayden is, what I did was a pretty douchey move. It won't happen again, alright? You don't have to worry about me hittin' on you again." He watched as Ian's eyes dropped to his plate, and Mickey frowned a little, thinking Ian looked a little put off by his words.

"Yeah, it's cool," Ian finally admitted. "No hard feelings or anything. You were drunk, we were both high, and it was an honest mistake. Shit happens, I get that."

Mickey allowed himself a brief flash of disappointment at knowing it had all been a big mistake to Ian, but he quickly shook himself of that. He had to. "So, we're cool?"

"Yeah," Ian said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're cool."

"Good," Mickey said, tapping his knuckle on the table. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yep, all clear."

Mickey lifted his eyes from the table, surprised to see that Ian's smile was gone, just like his own.

April picked that moment to stop next to their table. "Sorry, Mick," she said, shooting a kind smile at Ian before looking back at Mickey. "Looks like on top of our double shifts, we're all gonna have to haul ass and help out on dish duty tonight. Derek just called out."

"What the fuck," Mickey groaned, slumping back in his seat.

"Um," Ian began, his eyes darting back and forth between Mickey and April. "I can help out, maybe? I don't have shit else to do today, and I have some dishwashing experience, not like it's rocket science or anything. I worked dishes over at Patsy's Diner back when I was a kid."

Mickey lifted his eyes to meet Ian's, his eyebrow quirked. "No shit? You'd do that?"

Ian shrugged. "Yeah, why not, It's only for a few hours, right? And you guys are pretty swamped right now, I'd be a dick to not help out."

Mickey found himself smiling, wishing he could lean forward and cup that beautiful face in his hands and kiss Ian until he couldn't breathe. But, of course, he refrained.

April shrugged and gave Mickey a hopeful look. "I can talk to Don, but I don't see why not. Pay is minimum wage, under the table."

"Fine with me," Ian said with a shrug. "Not really doing it for the money. Just helping out a friend."

Mickey caught Ian's eyes with his own and held Ian's stare, knowing it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but he did it anyway.

It was well into the dinner rush, and Ian was beginning to wonder if he'd made a big mistake. Dishes were piling up faster than he could wash them, and random servers kept barking out orders at him every time plates and silverware ran low. He was tired and sweaty and soaked all the way down the front of his shirt, and his feet were already killing him. He looked up and watched as Mickey entered the kitchen through the swinging door. Their eyes met and suddenly Ian didn't feel so miserable anymore.

"How're you holding up back here?" Mickey asked as he looked Ian over, clearly amused by his soaked shirt and disheveled appearance. If Ian didn't know any better, he would think Mickey's eyes lingered a little too long on his wet chest.

"It's goin' good," Ian lied, not wanting to admit defeat. "Great, actually. Got everything under control."

"You fuckin' liar, you're so full of shit," Mickey said with a laugh as he moved to stand next to Ian. "All my tables are cool for now. You need some help back here?"

"I'm sure as shit not gonna turn you down."

Mickey grinned, grabbed an empty dish rack, and started loading up dirty plates and silverware.

Ian watched as Mickey sprayed the dirty plates off, his bicep flexing as he did so, and Ian forced himself to look away.

As they washed dishes side by side, Mickey bumped his shoulder against Ian's, causing Ian to stumble slightly to the side. "Hey, asshole," Ian exclaimed before doing it right back.

Mickey laughed and aimed the hose at Ian, spraying him.

"What the fuck is your malfunction!" Ian yelled, even though he was laughing. He grabbed a wet sponge and whipped it at Mickey, getting the front of Mickey's shirt wet.

"Hey, dick, I have customers!" Mickey reprimanded through his own laughter. "Besides, you look much better wet than I do," he said, spraying Ian again.

Neither one of them were aware of the cooks and servers all watching the two of them curiously.

Ian grabbed a handful of bubbles and slapped them in Mickey's face before doubling over in laughter. As he was bent over laughing, he couldn't help but realize that he hadn't laughed like that in a really long time… and it felt really fucking good. Being around Mickey felt really good.

After the dinner rush had finally died down, Mickey and Ian took a much-needed smoke break together in the back alley.

"Thanks again for helping me out earlier," Ian said as he puffed on his cigarette.

"Are you fuckin' kidding, man?" Mickey muttered around his own cigarette. "I should be thankin' your ass. If you hadn't stayed and helped out, we woulda all been screwed."

"It was no big deal."

Mickey hummed, glancing at Ian sideways while he wasn't looking.

They fell into an amicable silence for a minute before Ian spoke.

"So, I can't help but feel like the other night wasn't really fair." On Mickey's confused look, Ian continued. "I was pouring my heart out to you, telling you about my bipolar, telling you about Ayden and where I grew up, and I realized I don't really know much about you."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Tell me something about you that not many people know about."

"Hm, you wanna know some deep, dark, dirty secret, huh?" Mickey rasped as he flicked his cigarette.

Ian wanted to pretend that the sound of the other man's voice didn't go straight to his dick. "Yeah."

"There's not much to know about me," Mickey supplied. "I grew up dirt-poor on the South Side with a shitty family, a homophobic prick of a dad, I had criminal tendencies… you know, typical teenager from the ghetto."

"So, what made you decide you wanted to be a wedding planner?" Ian asked as he took another drag from his cigarette. "You don't really seem like the type of guy who would enjoy planning weddings."

Mickey looked at Ian, the corner of his lip twitching upwards slightly. "Don't know, man. I'm a hopeless fuckin' romantic, I guess."

Ian locked eyes with him and smiled back before dropping his head. He cleared his throat and threw his cigarette on the ground to stomp it out. "So, you're not close with your family, then?"

"Aside from Mandy, nah," Mickey answered. "I talk to my brother Iggy on the rare occasions he decides to actually show his ugly mug, but other than that, it's just us two."

Ian lifted his eyes to Mickey's, his stare soft. "You guys have any plans for the Fourth of July?"

"Besides getting wasted on the couch, eating hot pockets, and watching shitty TV?" Mickey snorted. "Nah, man, we ain't real big on holidays."

Ian pushed away from the brick wall, his eyes focused down at his shoes. "My family's having a picnic. Lots of food, lots of alcohol, we even have a pool. The neighbors light off fireworks. It's a good time. You should come… Mandy, too."

Mickey's lips toyed with his cigarette for a few moments, his eyes searching Ian's earnest face, before he asked, "What would your guy think about you invitin' your wedding planner to a family picnic?"

"He won't be there," Ian said with a shrug. "He's working on this huge ad campaign right now, so he's opting out to work on that. He doesn't really care for my family and their parties, anyway. They're too obnoxious for him."

"Are you gonna tell him I'll be there?"

"I don't see why he has to know," Ian said, finally looking up from his shoes to lock eyes with Mickey, a moment passing between them.

They both knew it was a bad idea, that there was a reason why Ian wouldn't be telling Ayden about Mickey going to the picnic. Still, Mickey agreed to go, and Ian gave him a nod and a smile.

"Remind me again why we're here?" Mandy grumbled to Mickey a couple days later.

"'Cause we didn't have anything fucking better to do, that's why."

"Tell me again how this isn't a terrible fucking idea?"

"Calm your tits, alright," Mickey snapped. "It's just a harmless fuckin' picnic."

Mandy rolled her eyes as they made their way up to the Gallagher front porch. "Right, we're only here for the free food and booze, right? Not because you have a massive boner for Ian?"

"Will you keep your fuckin' voice down? Jesus," Mickey snapped before hesitantly knocking on the door. "Knew I shoulda kept your ass at home."

Moments later, Ian opened the door, his cheeks puffed out as he chewed on a bite of hamburger, and his eyes grew wide when he saw them. "Oh, hey, guys!"

Mickey swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down Ian's naked torso. Of fucking course Ian would be dripping fucking wet while wearing swim trunks that hung low on his hips and clung to his dick. That was exactly how Mickey's luck worked.

"Uh… hey," Mickey said, thrusting the dish he held in his hands out for Ian to take. "Mandy made this weird jello and pretzel shit she found online."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "It's a strawberry pretzel salad. It's good."

"Cool, thanks." Ian took the proffered dish and stepped aside to let them enter. "Welcome to la casa de Gallagher. Did you guys bring your swimsuits?"

"Sure did," Mandy said, patting the beach bag she'd brought with her.

Ian turned and led them into the kitchen. "Everyone's out back already. Food's almost ready, beer's cold. Mandy, you can change in there," he said, nodding his head towards the small bathroom off the kitchen as he put the jello pretzel dish among the other various dishes on the counter.

Once Mandy went to change and they were alone, Ian turned to Mickey and smiled softly. "I'm really glad you guys came. I wasn't sure you were going to."

"Yeah, whatever, thanks for inviting us. We had shit else to do." Mickey cleared his throat and scratched his nose with his thumbnail, still trying to avoid looking in Ian's direction.

"It's okay, you know," Ian said after a short pause. "You're allowed to look."

Mickey's eyebrows shot up, and he could feel his cheeks burning. "Excuse me?"

"You're obviously tryin' not to look," Ian said. "I'm just letting you know it's okay to look."

Mickey stared back at Ian, wanting so fucking badly to tell him that he wanted to do a whole hell of a lot more than just look, but instead, he said, "You shouldn't say shit like that." He'd meant it as a warning, but the words came out soft and husky.

Ian leaned back against the counter, brought the bottle of water he held in his hand to his lips and took a sip, his eyes still locked with Mickey's.

Mickey tongued the inside of his cheek as he stared back. He finally allowed himself a lingering peek at Ian's body and found himself resisting the strong urge to step forward and touch him. He slowly lifted his eyes back up to meet Ian's.

Ian was no longer smiling as he stared back just as intently.

Mandy chose that exact moment to come out of the bathroom, wearing a tiny neon green bikini. "Your turn, Mick."

Mickey ducked his head and turned to disappear into the small bathroom so he could change into his trunks. Once the door was closed, he leaned back against it and ran a shaky hand down his face. He knew he was getting sloppy. If his sister hadn't interrupted them when she did, he didn't know what the fuck would have happened. Still, he changed into his swim trunks and left the bathroom to join the party, even though everything inside him was telling him to get the fuck out of there.

It was two hours into the party, and Ian was having a good fucking time. Everyone played and splashed in the pool, filled up on slightly burnt (but still delicious) burgers and hot dogs, and the adults were all well on their way to being foolishly and clumsily drunk. The main reason for Ian's good mood, however, was standing across the yard, currently engaging in conversation with Kev and Veronica.

Everyone seemed to like Mickey well enough, and he seemed to like them, too. He was joking and conversing with everyone, and even played chicken with Debbie, Fiona, and Lip in the pool. Mickey fit right in. He fit in in a way that Ayden never had and probably never would.

Ian's smile slowly faded when he realized that none of those things were helping to lessen his crush on his wedding planner. If anything, it was making shit worse.

Ian brought his beer to his lips and took another sip as his eyes remained focused on Mickey, watching as Mickey's whole face lit up as he laughed at something undoubtedly raunchy Kev said.

Once it got dark out and Kevin was getting the fireworks set up, Mickey staggered over to where Ian was sitting in a lawn chair, looking half-blitzed himself.

"What's up, Red," Mickey said as he sat down in the empty lawn chair next to Ian.

"Hey," Ian said, his cheeks rosy from sunburn, and his hair damp and spiked up all over from being in the pool. "Havin' fun?"

"Shit, yeah, man," Mickey said around the mouth of his beer bottle. "Your family's not half bad, Gallagher."

"They seem to really like you, too," Ian said. "Carl said your tattoos are badass, and Liam said you're his new best friend."

Mickey snorted, but Ian could tell he was pleased with that information.

Ian smiled.

"Have you seen my bitch sister?" Mickey asked, looking around to scan the yard full of rowdy people.

"Uh," Ian paused to glance around. "I saw her talking to Lip a little while ago, don't know where they're at now, though."

Mickey rubbed at the corner of his mouth, shooting Ian a displeased look. "Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"You shouldn't."

"Great," Mickey muttered, leaning back further in his lawn chair. Suddenly, a firework shot into the air and exploded above them, causing the little kids to squeal and clap in delight.

"I'm really glad you came, Mick," Ian said as another one shot off.

Mickey looked over at Ian, their eyes locking as the fireworks went off above them, another moment passing between them. Mickey licked his lips and, without meaning to, dropped his gaze to Ian's mouth. After a tense pause, he forced himself to look away and said, "I'm gonna, uh, go grab another beer."

"Yeah," Ian said, his voice soft, "okay."

Mickey stood up and headed up the porch steps and into the kitchen, feeling as if he had to get away from Ian before he did something irreversibly stupid like lean over and fucking kiss him.

Once he was inside the dark, empty kitchen, he walked over to the fridge and opened it to grab a beer. He walked to the counter and set his beer down before gripping the edge of the counter and hanging his head to take a few deep breaths. "Fuck," he muttered, wondering once again how he'd gotten himself into that fucking situation.

A month ago, he hadn't even known Ian Gallagher existed. Suddenly, he was at the guy's fucking house with his family, watching fireworks with him, and doing everything he could to not lean over and kiss the shit out of him.

Mickey heard someone come in through the screen door, and he looked up to see that Ian had entered the kitchen. He didn't say anything, and neither did Ian.

Ian dropped his head and walked over to the fridge to grab his own beer. He then turned around and was only a foot away from Mickey, his eyes still downcast.

Mickey watched him, swallowing thickly and waiting.

After a pause, Ian uttered the words that changed everything. "I like you, too."

Mickey remained pressed back against the counter, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Yeah?" he finally said, his voice thick.

Ian visibly swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

Not wanting to agonize over the consequences any longer, Mickey hesitantly reached out and trailed his finger over Ian's bare hip bone before hooking his finger under the waistband of Ian's swim trunks. He tugged lightly, motioning for Ian to step closer.

Ian took that step forward, and they were suddenly standing only inches apart, heat radiating off both their bodies. The only sounds were the muffled laughs and voices coming from the backyard, and the sounds of their uneven breathing.

"I can't stop thinkin' about you," Mickey murmured. "Fuck, Ian, I can't stop thinking about you… about wanting to… to fuckin' touch you."

Ian closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

Mickey noted the goosebumps that were forming across Ian's skin, and he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick every inch of Ian's body, to pull Ian down onto the kitchen floor and slowly explore every fucking inch of Ian with his hands, tongue, and teeth.

"Mickey," Ian whispered, breathless. "I can't stop either."

Mickey swallowed thickly as he searched Ian's face, knowing they'd both just stepped into dangerous fucking territory. The mere thought of Ian's fiancé caused Mickey to come crashing back to reality. Suddenly, it was as if Mickey had been doused with a bucket of ice water. "Fuck… I shouldn't be here," he murmured, leaning in to press his forehead to Ian's. "I shouldn't have fucking come here. I knew it was a bad fucking idea."

Ian nodded against Mickey's forehead, his eyes still closed. "Yeah, maybe you should go before… before we both do something we can't take back."

Mickey nodded, inhaled through his nose, and took a reluctant step backward, knowing it was the smart thing to do even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

As soon as he stepped away, Mandy and Lip came bounding down the steps, both of them whispering and laughing. They both froze when they saw Mickey and Ian standing awkwardly facing each other in the middle of the dark kitchen.

"Oh… hey," Mandy said, looking between the two of them skeptically. "What's going on in here? You guys okay?"

"Yeah," Mickey snapped, trying to ignore the telltale hickeys on Ian's brother's neck. "You ready to get outta here?"

"What, now?"

"Yes, fucking now."

"Alright, fuck, you don't have to be a dick about it," Mandy snapped. "Just let me go grab my stuff."

Mickey ran a hand through his damp hair and snuck another look at Ian, who wasn't throwing him so much as a glance.

Once Mandy went to grab her stuff with Lip following after her, Ian was the first to break the silence.

"I don't want anything to change," Ian murmured. "I still want you to be my wedding planner. I still want us to be friends."

"And how the fuck is that supposed to work, Ian?"

"I don't know, okay? I don't fuckin' know," Ian said, throwing his hands up in the air. "All I know is… is that I want you in my life as something. If you're not my wedding planner, then what? We go back to just being strangers?"

"Gallagher, I don't know about you, but it's getting really fucking hard for me to keep my hands and lips to myself here, okay? Fuck! I mean, look at you," Mickey retorted. "How the fuck am I supposed to just sit back and pretend I don't want you?"

Ian seemed to take a moment to wrap his head around Mickey's words before saying, "You just… you just have to, okay? We can be adults about this."

Mickey sneered. "And how's any of this fair to your douchebag fiancé, huh?"

A look crossed over Ian's face then, and he shook his head. "Nothing's gonna happen between us, alright?"

"So you weren't just thinking about fucking me against the counter two minutes ago?"

"No," Ian said, unconvincingly.

"Bullshit."

"I don't know about you, but I can control my urges." Ian then immediately clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes.

Mickey scoffed at that; they both knew Ian was lying. "Really? As if I'm some fuckin' horny kid who can't keep my dick to myself? I can control myself too, asshole."

"So, what's the problem?" Ian asked.

"There is no problem," Mickey shot back. "I'll be your wedding planner, and I'll keep my fuckin' hands to myself. It's not like you're fucking irresistible or anything. I've had hotter."

"Good," Ian snapped.

"Yeah, good."

Just then, Mandy came back in from outside. "You ready?"

"Been fuckin' ready! Let's go," Mickey spat before brushing roughly past Ian and heading for the front door.

"Did I miss something?" Mandy asked with a quirked eyebrow. "What the fuck happened in here?"

"I'm not even sure what just happened," Ian said with a sigh, having a feeling he'd just completely fucked things up.

Even though he knew it was probably best that Mickey was pissed at him, he still couldn't ignore the fact that, as guilty as he felt regarding things with Ayden, the hurt look that Mickey had given him before walking away made Ian feel worse.