Another Ian one, I figured after everything that was said and. . . done . . . in the last chapter he deserved to have his thoughts shared.

Ian didn't know what Mickey found so funny and he didn't think Mickey actually did either. The expression on Kash's face had admittedly been something to see, the surprise there so genuine it was almost insulting. A part of Ian though couldn't help but be relieved that it had been Kash in that doorway, because he already knew. If it hadn't been Kash, Mickey probably wouldn't have been laughing, he would have been running for the hills.

Kash disappeared from the doorway the moment Mickey hit the floor, still laughing, but Ian sort of knew he would be back.

It was another half an hour before Mickey clambered to his feet, his face streaked with tears that had leaked out while he was laughing and Ian hadn't actually ever seen Mickey cry. Even if they weren't proper tears, he still thought it counted. It proved Mickey had tearducts at the very least.

Completely unashamedly he stripped off his slacks and boxers, putting on a pair of Ian's that still sat in a drawer in the back of the room, in case Ian ever actually needed to get dressed. Mickey didn't ask to borrow them and Ian didn't care, they were past needing to ask stupid questions. He clambered into his boiler suit then and with a smirk went off to work.

Ian didn't know what Mickey was planning to do with the defiled boxers and he was too fucking relaxed to care enough to ask. For the first time, it didn't feel like all of the air had been sucked from the room when Mickey walked out, he didn't feel himself retreating back a step into the safety of his own head, his feelings didn't really change at all.

He put that down to the fact he could still smell Mickey all over his hands and the sting of a bite mark at the bottom of his neck, where it met his shoulder.

Kash wandered in just a few minutes after Mickey left and Ian knew he was going to lecture him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Kash just stared at him for a while, the disappointment in his eyes chokingly obvious and it pissed Ian off if he was honest. He didn't speak first for fear that if he opened his mouth he was going to bite the older man's head off.

He knew it was pointless, that Mickey would only think it was stupid, but he couldn't help feeling fucking protective of the ex-con. Mickey wouldn't ever want that protection and Ian probably couldn't actually offer much, but he still felt it.

"You're still fucking him."

It wasn't a question. He'd licked the evidence off of his own hand in front of Kash and the knowledge of that made him smile, because he could still taste Mickey on his tongue. He loved how Mickey tasted, whether it was his sweat when Ian trailed a tongue up the side of his neck, his blood when Ian bit down into his shoulder or the come that he sucked off of his fingers. He loved it all.

"Not so much fucking," he replied lightly, settling back into the pillows, comfortable for once, "It'd be difficult to pull off with two fucked up kneecaps." Then again, in his head he could picture Mickey riding him. That would be possible even with his legs unable to move, but at the same time it still wasn't really something that could happen.

"Why?" Kash asked, moving to stand at the foot of the bed, looking awkward, "What the hell do you see in a guy like that?"

Ian wished people would stop saying that. He wished they would stop judging Mickey, because sure, he was a lot of things, not many of them good, but Ian meant what he had said earlier, he was still perfect for Ian.

"You wouldn't understand," he said, glaring at his ex-lover, "And I don't really want to explain to you."

Sometimes it felt like Mickey was his secret, like nobody else in the world really knew he existed and in a way, that was true. Nobody knew Mickey like Ian did and Ian knew that, it had used to be the knowledge that kept him going throughout all the times Mickey was being a dickhead.

"You can do better," Kash told him simply, like he had a right to judge Ian and Mickey.

Ian snorted, "What better, as in you?" He felt his mouth twist up into a smirk that he thought he'd probably picked up from Mickey. He knew he didn't pull it off as well though. "Because news flash Kash, fucking him is in a whole different league to what it had been like fucking you."

It was the truth and they always said the truth hurt.

Ian couldn't really explain why, but he wanted to hurt something, someone. He was angry, for practically no reason, the need to snap at somebody, to hurt them almost too much. Kash just happened to be the one that was there and Ian had so much easy ammunition when he came to him.

He was pleased when Kash flinched.

"What do you want?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, "Because I know you didn't come here to yell at me over Mickey."

He could tell from the look on Kash's face that the older man had always thought that Mickey had been a onetime thing, just a quick fuck in the back of the storeroom because Kash hadn't been about or something like that. It pissed Ian off that nobody could ever see how much Mickey meant.

Even Mickey couldn't often see how much he meant. But that was because Mickey didn't want to.

It had been weird talking to him about love, weird seeing his take on things because Ian hadn't expected that. He'd just thought Mickey didn't want to fall in love, not that he was terrified of it. Ian sort of understood his take on things, knew that Mickey felt even if he didn't want to, even if he refused to admit to it. And even though he hadn't said the words, he still had confirmed what Ian had hoped for all along.

He did love him. The times Mickey had thought he could see it in Mickey's eyes after they'd fucked or when Ian was talking about nothing in particular and he could have sworn Mickey was drinking in every word, last night had just confirmed that he wasn't imagining things.

"I wanted to check you were okay," Kash said lamely and Ian thought that was the fucking stupidest thing anybody could have said right then.

He scoffed loudly. "Yeah, well I'm fucking dandy, Kash," he practically growled, "Thanks for your concern, you can go now." He wanted Kash to leave, wanted him to stop ruining the good mood that Ian had built up. He knew Fiona was going to be stopping by soon and he didn't want Kash here when she was, because she'd say something and Kash would probably let it slip about Mickey and then all hell was going to break loose because Mickey wouldn't be laughing anymore.

"Well Linda wanted you to know that you still have a job when you get out of here," he said, nervous, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels, repeatedly glancing towards the door like he thought Mickey was going to come barging through any second.

Ian couldn't imagine working behind the counter at Kash and Grab again, couldn't imagine having the courage to do that. Of course he didn't tell Kash that. Instead he took a leaf out of Mickey's book and hit Kash right where it hurt, "She forgiven you yet for walking out on your kids?"

That was one of the reasons Ian had started to despise Kash. He'd been a coward, he'd just up and left, not even bothering to stick around for his unborn kids. He'd left everything, abandoned them and all because he didn't have the balls to step up and admit to what he was. Ian had been one of those abandoned kids before, his mother had walked out on him, he'd been left behind, so he knew how if felt.

And he hated Kash for making his kids feel like that.

Looking at the man standing in front of him now, he didn't know what he had ever seen in him.

Wisely, Kash didn't reply, just nodded once and walked out of the room. And Ian was glad, he was glad this time to be left alone. Because when he lay back into the pillows and closed his eyes, all he could smell was Mickey. The scent of Mickey clung to the air in the room, filling Ian's lungs every time he breathed in. It was like a drug.

It was addictive.

It wasn't Fiona that stopped by to see him like he had expected, because she usually made an appearance around lunch time each day. Lip turned up though, obviously bunking off of school, but Ian didn't care about him doing that. Lip could pass all his exams without even turning up to one lesson, he only even went so that he wouldn't get kicked out.

They chatted about stupid things, Lip updating him on stuff that had happened at home, about Carl setting the microwave on fire when he'd tried to nuke one of his toys again. Liam had fully mastered the art of climbing out of his crib which was making life hell on Fiona. Steve – Jimmy? – had basically moved in, but Fiona refused to let him buy the house too much stuff, even if it wasn't strictly charity anymore.

"Karen still hasn't turned up," he said and Ian found he'd actually almost forgotten about Karen making her mum choose between her and the baby. As far as Ian was concerned, Sheila had made the right choice, because Karen was a fucking bitch.

But he didn't say that, instead he said, "You miss her?"

Lip had basically been obsessed with Karen for ages, calling it love, but they all knew it wasn't really that. Even Lip knew. It had almost ruined him to find out that the baby wasn't his and Ian hated Karen even more for that. He never had been able to see the appeal of her in the first place, but maybe that was because he was gay. Or had standards.

Lip shrugged, scratching the back of his neck as he always did when he was desperately craving a smoke. "Probably just miss the sex," he said, but they could both see that he was skirting around the question, which probably meant he knew Ian wouldn't like the answer. Which of course, was an answer in itself.

"Thought you had Mandy for that?"

Amazingly, it had been Mickey rather than Lip who'd told him about Mandy fucking his brother. And according to Mickey it was a pretty frequent thing. Ian wasn't sure how he felt about that, especially considering Mandy was still his 'girlfriend'. The one good thing was that Lip couldn't say anything about him being with – was he with Mickey, neither of them ever fucking defined it, ever – a Milkovich. The biggest issue was that if Mandy got hurt, Mickey was going to kill Lip, no two ways about it.

Lip pulled a face, "Yeah, your point?"

Ian just shrugged. "Just don't fuck that up," he said, chewing on the side of his thumb, something he did when he was craving a smoke. It had been too fucking long since he'd had one. "Don't really want to see Mick get put back in Juvie for doing your head in."

Lip snorted, "Oh thanks, you're not worried about my face or anything then?"

"If you think it'd just be your face that Mickey would fuck up, you're an idiot," Ian said honestly. He'd seen Mickey fight. Hell, he'd fought Mickey. You didn't want to be on the wrong side of that anger. Because Ian was a complete idiot though, he'd moved past being afraid of Mickey's temper and just thought it was fucking hot.

Lip grimaced. "Yeah, you may have a point there," he rubbed a hand through his hair and then frowned, "Ian, what the fuck is that smell in here?" He scrunched up his nose in distaste, "It smells like. . . Oh God, Ian you didn't, that's disgusting!"

It probably didn't help that Mickey took that moment to appear in the doorway, his smirk saying it all. He threw himself down in the chair beside Ian's bed and very pointedly rearranged himself. "I think it smells fucking great actually," he said, like they were talking about a new air freshener or something, not the smell of his jizz.

Lip looked like he was about to be sick. He stood up quickly, "I think I'm going to go drink some bleach." Ian was pretty sure his brother was holding his breath as he nodded to them both and practically bolted from the room.

Mickey watched him leave with that cocky half-smile on his lips. "What?" he asked when he realised Ian was watching him.

Shaking his head, Ian chose not to even comment. It wasn't worth it.