The next morning, Ian woke to find himself wrapped comfortably in Mickey's arms, his cheek pressed warmly against Mickey's chest. He smiled softly to himself, thinking it was a much better way to wake up than he had any other day for the past two and a half weeks. In fact, he wouldn't mind waking up like that every day forever, maybe. He closed his eyes and relaxed, not wanting to move a muscle, afraid he'd wake Mickey and scare him away. He wanted to savor it for just a little while longer before the other shoe inevitably dropped again. He curled his fist against Mickey's chest and concentrated on the steady beating of Mickey's heart as he teetered on the edge of sleep.

"You awake?" Mickey asked, his voice husky.

Ian's eyes flew open, and he couldn't suppress his grin, embarrassingly giddy to find that Mickey had been awake all along, perfectly okay with Ian in his arms, their legs entwined, maybe even okay with Ian's drool on his chest. He lifted his head and gazed into Mickey's sleepy eyes, his grin still wide. He couldn't help it. "'Morning."

Mickey stared back at him, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he said, his voice deep. He began lazily feathering his fingertips over Ian's bare shoulder. "So, on a scale from one to ten, how fucking gay is all this?"

Ian pretended to think it over and narrowed his eyes. "Cuddling? Mm, pretty gay. Probably a nine."

Mickey chuckled and was immediately hushed when Ian leaned up and kissed him softly. "Ay, at least brush your fucking teeth before you go attacking me," he teased when Ian pulled back.

Ian licked playfully at Mickey's lips and snickered when Mickey made a face, pretending to be disgusted. He kissed Mickey's cheek, and then he dropped a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Jesus," Mickey murmured, his tone affectionate.

"Sorry, can't help it," Ian murmured back as he peppered Mickey's face with soft, sweet, playful kisses. "I like your face."

When Ian finally pulled back a little to glance down at him, Mickey swallowed thickly before saying, "Yeah?" On Ian's nod, he said, "I like your face, too."

Ian smiled and moved to Mickey's mouth for a deeper kiss. In one swift motion, Mickey turned them so that Ian was on his back.

Mickey deepened their kiss as he playfully slid his hands down Ian's sides, finding his wrists. He brought Ian's arms up and pinned his hands to the mattress as he swung his leg to straddle him.

"Not so shy anymore, huh?" Ian teased.

Mickey stared down at Ian as he straddled him. He could already feel his cock responding, thinking Ian looked so fucking hot beneath him, all flushed and dazed and sleepy-eyed.

Ian arched his back as Mickey slowly began grinding against him. They were both wearing cotton boxers, but the friction felt incredible. "Fuck, Mickey."

"I can't help myself around you," Mickey rasped as he continued grinding against Ian, still pinning him to the mattress. "Trust me, I fucking tried." He leaned down and captured Ian's bottom lip in his mouth, tugging it playfully with his teeth.

Ian was gasping and sputtering as Mickey continued his slow, torturous thrusts. "I could definitely get used to this more uninhibited version of you."

Mickey kissed his way to Ian's ear and whispered hotly, "How does that feel?"

"It feels fucking incredible," Ian choked out, his teasing mood completely out the window. He knew he probably sounded like a blubbering idiot, but he didn't fucking care.

Mickey bit his lower lip and stifled a moan of his own. He didn't quite know what exactly had gotten into him. All he knew was that he was fucking hot for Ian Gallagher, and he was done being shy about it. Of course, he felt fucking ridiculous doing and saying those things to Ian, but, right then, with the sounds Ian was making and the faces he was pulling, he didn't really give a flying fuck.

"Touch me, Mickey," Ian begged.

Mickey moved off Ian and relaxed on his side. Tentatively, he ran his fingertips over Ian's chest and chiseled stomach, and then lower still. He watched Ian's face the whole time, enthralled by him; the way his lips were parted, his cheeks flushed, the beads of sweat forming along his hairline.

"How's that?" Mickey asked as he slowly rubbed Ian through his boxers.

"So fucking good," Ian managed to choke out as he arched his back.

Mickey, never once looking away from Ian's flushed face, removed Ian's cock from his boxers and stroked him, much like he would stroke his own dick. He liked that he was the one making Ian feel like that, sound like that.

Ian opened his dark eyes and stared at Mickey dazedly. He reached forward, grabbing Mickey by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a searing kiss, his teeth tugging and nipping at Mickey's lips.

Mickey moaned into Ian's mouth as his continued stroking his dick, wanting to bring him over that edge. Bringing Ian Gallagher to orgasm was now his favorite thing to do, he decided.

"Fuck, Mickey," Ian groaned just as his hot come spurted all over Mickey's hand. Ian panted and gasped and clung to Mickey, digging his fingers into flesh as he caught his breath before glancing sheepishly at him. "You're way too fucking good at that."

Mickey cracked a smile. "I've had a lot of practice on myself over the years." He then dropped his head and whispered, "fuck," for sounding so fucking lame. But, then again, Ian Gallagher had the uncanny ability to bring out his lameness.

Ian pulled Mickey to him so that he was now cuddled against Ian's chest. He wrapped his arms around Mickey, loving the way he felt in his arms. "This too corny for you?"

"Borderline, but it's cool," Mickey murmured against Ian's skin.

Ian smiled and pressed a kiss against Mickey's hair. After a while, his smile faded as the doubts began setting in. He didn't want to think about any of it, but with Mickey lying perfectly in his arms, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about how everything would inevitably change once they got home. He wasn't naïve enough to believe they could be a couple back home if that was even what Mickey wanted. Hell, who knew…maybe it was just a fling to Mickey, something to pass the time until they went back to good ol' Canaryville.

The doubts, fears, and pessimistic thoughts muddling Ian's mind completely deflated his mood, and he motioned for Mickey to get up.

"The fuck?" Mickey asked, looking put off. "What's wrong?"

"I gotta piss," Ian grumbled as he headed towards the bathroom.

Mickey watched after him, frowning at the sudden shift in Ian's mood. He crawled off the bed and followed Ian into the bathroom. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Fuck's up with you?"

Ian finished his business and went about washing his hands. "Nothing," he grumbled. "Can't a guy take a piss?"

"Hey," Mickey said, stepping further into the bathroom and gripping Ian's shoulder to turn him. "Talk to me."

"Oh, now you wanna talk?" Ian snapped. "I figured this was how you'd want it? We'd fool around and then go on, acting like nothing happened? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Mickey dropped his hand away from Ian's shoulder and took a step back, feeling his own irritation bristling. "Really? We're back to that, huh?"

Ian dried his hands and turned to Mickey with a resigned sigh. "Look, Mickey, this is fun and all, but you said it yourself…we're not here for this. We both know, once we get back home, it's gonna end. I'm just—"

Mickey watched as Ian paused, his eyes darting everywhere but at Mickey. His eyebrows knitted together as he impatiently waited for Ian to continue. "You're just what?"

"I'm already in too deep and…" Ian continued, his tone disheartened. "I'm just trying to limit the fallout."

"The fuck's that even mean?"

Ian finally looked at him as his shoulders sagged. "Nevermind…forget it." Ian tried to walk around him, but Mickey wasn't having it.

"I don't fucking think so, Ian," Mickey said, holding a hand to Ian's chest, stopping him. "For the past two fucking weeks, I've tried to get your ass to shut up, you're not shutting up on me now."

"Oh, so because it's you that suddenly wants to talk, I have to talk?" Ian snapped. "Fuck that."

"Say what you want, but you're not leaving this fucking bathroom until you talk to me."

"Just drop it, Mickey."

"I'm not fucking drop—"

"I'm falling for you, alright?" Ian finally spat. "I'm in too fucking deep as it is, and I don't wanna go home in a few days and…I'm not fucking stupid, alright? I know what's gonna happen. I know you and me can't happen."

Mickey removed his hand from Ian's chest, his words knocking the wind out of him.

Ian stared back at Mickey, his eyes brimming with tears. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, and then he turned abruptly to the side, wishing he could take it all back. "Fuck!"

Mickey dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to process any of it. Finally, he said, "I don't know what you want me to say here."

"I'm not expecting you to say anything, okay?" Ian said, his voice shaking.

"I never expected any of this to happen," Mickey continued, feeling numb. "I just…"

Ian nodded his head curtly and wiped quickly at the corner of his eye, refusing to cry. "I don't expect you to feel the same. I know you don't feel the same. I just want you to be honest with me." He waited for Mickey's hesitant nod. "Nothing can happen between us when we get home, right?"

Mickey avoided Ian's eyes, and he rubbed a thumb over his lower lip, wanting to say so much more, but knowing he couldn't. "I won't be able to give you what you want. It's impossible."

"Yeah," Ian said sadly. "Yeah, I know."

Mickey let out an unsteady breath as he continued to rub at his lip.

"So, what do we do here?"

"I don't fuckin' know," Mickey said, suddenly in desperate need of a cigarette. He turned and left the bathroom, reaching for his cigarettes on the dresser and lighting one with an unsteady hand.

Ian stood in the bathroom's doorway, watching him.

"Should we fucking stop or…what?" Mickey finally asked, turning to face Ian full on. "What do you want?"

"I don't wanna stop," Ian said.

"Well, it's either we stop right now before things get worse, or we continue this, whatever the fuck this is, for a few more days and then go home."

"Go home and pretend we don't matter to each other?" Ian asked, sounding hurt.

"Christ, Ian, the fuck do you want me to say?" Mickey snapped. "Help me out here!"

Ian ran a hand over his head and let out a shaky exhale as he looked towards the window, his face showing his conflicted emotions. "I don't know," he finally said. "All I know is that…if all I can have with you is a few more nights, then I'll take it."

Mickey stared at Ian, his chest tightening, wanting to tell Ian that he felt the same exact way about him. But he couldn't. Because Ian was right, once they were back home, there was no way they could ever be together. Not really. It just wasn't something that was possible in Mickey Milkovich's fucked up, miserable life. Not with his homophobic father and brothers around, not while living in that fucked-up neighborhood. It wasn't something Mickey'd ever considered for himself because it was just fucking impossible. Love had no place in Mickey's life.

Ian ran a hand over his face, sniffed back his tears, and then he looked at Mickey. "So, we have a few more nights together, until we go back?"

Mickey nodded curtly, his eyebrows lifting. "Yeah."

"Then, I guess that's how it has to be," Ian muttered.

"Ay." Mickey took a few steps towards Ian but stopped before reaching him. "Look, I'd give you more if I could," he admitted openly, the only thing he could admit right then. "It's just…I can't."

"Right, yeah, I know," Ian said, hanging and shaking his head.

Mickey finally closed the gap between the two of them and grabbed Ian's hand, pulling Ian against him. "We can stretch this out a little longer after we get all the money. We can stay a few extra nights."

Ian nodded, knowing that would never be enough for him, but it was all they were ever going to get.

"Okay? Alright?" Mickey said, hooking his finger under Ian's chin to bring their eyes together. "Let's take advantage of the time we have."

"Okay," Ian said, forcing a gentle smile before leaning in and hugging Mickey, the smile slipping off his face when he propped his chin on Mickey's shoulder.