Mickey pulled the Milkovich beater to a stop in front of the Gallagher home and cut the engine. He snuck a sideways glance at Ian, who was slumped and sleeping against the passenger side door. Ian hadn't said one word to Mickey on the way home from the Fairy Tail, and he'd passed out sometime along the way.
Mickey sighed, ran a hand over his face, and rubbed his mouth before reaching over to lightly shake at Ian's shoulder. "Ay, Gallagher," he murmured, "time to wake up, man."
Ian muttered unintelligibly but didn't lift his head from the cold window.
"What's that, mumbles?"
Ian hummed but still didn't move.
"Ian," Mickey said, reaching over and softly rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against Ian's smooth cheek. "Come on, man, I gotta get you in the house. It's cold out here, and it's fucking late."
"Can't walk," Ian finally grumbled almost inaudibly.
"Yes, you most certainly can fuckin' walk, it's called use your legs," Mickey said, his eyebrows shooting upwards.
"Nope," Ian mumbled, "can't."
Mickey rested his head back against the headrest of his seat and shot his eyes heavenward. "Am I gonna have to carry your gangly, tweaked-out ass into the goddamn house?"
"Guess so," came the soft, muffled reply.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Mickey groused as he undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. He instantly slipped and almost fell on his ass, since it had snowed earlier that day, and there was currently sludge everywhere, which was going to make the task even more fucked up and impossible. Still, he found himself on the other side of the car, opening Ian's door.
Since Ian had been leaning heavily against the door, he almost tumbled out onto the sidewalk when the door opened, but Mickey quickly caught him and held him upright.
"You tryin' to kill me here, Ian?" Mickey huffed as he struggled and somehow managed to get Ian out of the car in one piece. When he realized that Ian was only going to give him trouble and wasn't even going to attempt to try to walk on his own, he hooked one of Ian's arms around his neck, bent over, and hoisted Ian over his shoulder.
He knew showing up at the Gallagher house like that, with Ian high on who-the-fuck-knows-what and hanging over his shoulder like a goddamn rag doll, was only going to raise questions, but he had to do what he had to do, since Ian was being a stubborn little shit as always. After some careful maneuvering, Mickey made his way up the porch steps and knocked on the door, all the while grumbling obscenities under his breath.
"Where are we?" Ian groused somewhere behind Mickey's back.
"I'm in hell right now, but you're at home," Mickey groused.
"I like your butt," Ian mumbled in his inebriated state, patting the butt that was in his face.
Mickey didn't really know what to say to that, so he just hoisted Ian higher on his shoulder and gnawed on his lower lip.
The door finally opened and suddenly Mickey was face to face with someone he could only assume was Ian's older sister Fiona.
"Uh," Mickey began, feeling awkward under her perplexed scrutiny as she looked between Mickey's face and her brother's ass with wide, questioning eyes. "I think this tall ginger idiot belongs to you?"
"Ian, what the fuck?" Fiona muttered under her breath. "What the fuck happened? Where the hell was he?"
"He's been dancing at some fuckin' club over in Boystown," Mickey explained as Fiona ushered him in from the cold. "I went there tonight to talk to him, found him dancing on some sleazeball's lap, tweaking like a little bitch."
"Oh, Jesus," Fiona said, running a hand over her face. "Well, okay, I guess I'll have to deal with him in the morning," she continued. "His room is upstairs…make a right, it's at the end of the hall."
Mickey nodded curtly, and then he began the daunting task of getting Ian's deadweight ass up the stairs. After taking much more time than Mickey would have liked, and after nearly stumbling backward a few times and killing both Ian and himself, he finally made it into the bedroom and assumed the empty bed by the window was Ian's.
He shot a look over towards the crib, where a small child was standing up and watching him with wide, curious eyes. Mickey wanted to ask the kid what the fuck he was looking at, but he refrained since, you know, he was just a kid.
Mickey bent over and allowed Ian to fall carefully onto the mattress. He stared down at Ian for a long moment, his heart tightening in his chest. Without thinking much about it, he removed Ian's shoes, swung his legs up onto the bed, and made sure the pillow was tucked just right under Ian's head. He then turned to leave but was stopped by a small, broken voice.
"Don't."
Mickey froze just as he was about to walk out the door and turned around to find Ian looking at him, the dim light from the hallway illuminating his pleading face and hooded eyes. He snuck a quick glance towards the bunk bed in the room, finding two snoring lumps beneath covers.
When he looked back at Ian, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was torn between doing what he knew he should do, which was to get the fuck out of there without complicating things even more, or to hop right on in that bed with Ian and say fuck everyone and everything else.
"Don't go."
"I can't stay here, Ian," Mickey muttered miserably. "You fuckin' know that."
"My family knows about us," Ian continued, his voice unsteady. "They don't care. You're safe here, Mickey. Want you to be safe, here with me."
Mickey thumbed at his lower lip, knowing he should be upset at the fact that Ian's family knew his deep, dark secret, but for some reason, he wasn't. How could he stay mad at Ian while he was looking at him like that? How could he leave when Ian looked like that?
"Yeah, okay," Mickey finally relented as he walked back over to Ian's bed. He toed off his shoes and watched as Ian lifted his butt to pull the covers out from under himself.
Mickey and Ian slipped under the blankets, facing each other.
Ian pulled the blanket up and around them, and then he pressed his face against Mickey's chest, inhaling his smell. "Missed you, Mick," he whispered.
Mickey dug his fingers into Ian's hair and kneaded his scalp lightly before dropping his hand and wrapping an arm around Ian. He propped his chin on top of Ian's head and lazily rubbed his hand over Ian's back, relishing the feeling of having Ian in his arms again.
"Missed you, too," Mickey whispered back, his lips pressed to Ian's forehead as they both drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Mickey snuggled closer into the unknown warmth and sighed dreamily, not wanting to open his eyes or move from where he was. He felt soft, warm kisses sprinkling across his cheeks, chin, and nose. Finally, he slowly blinked his eyes open, and his breath caught in his throat.
"You're really here," Ian murmured before brushing a kiss against Mickey's forehead.
"Yeah, I'm here," Mickey grumbled, once everything came flooding back in his mind, "and I'm pissed the fuck off at you."
Ian leaned in and buried his face against Mickey's chest, looking impossibly fucking adorable at the moment with bleary eyes and messy bedhead.
"Don't think you can fuckin' cute your way outta this, asshole. That shit don't work on me," Mickey lied as he reached up and dug his fingers in Ian's hair. "What the fuck were you thinking? The fuckin' Fairy Tail? Shakin' your ass for money? Really, asshole?"
Ian lifted his head and sighed. "I know, it was a stupid fucking idea, alright."
"You fuckin' think?"
"I just needed to do something, you know?" Ian muttered. "I needed to take my mind off shit."
"Grinding on cocks, gargling old man balls, doin' drugs?" Mickey retorted. "That was your way of taking your mind off shit, huh?"
"I didn't gargle old man balls, Mickey."
"Not my fuckin' point."
Ian just let out a puff of air, not really knowing what else to say.
After looking over to find that the bunk bed was empty, and hearing the muffled voices drifting up from the kitchen, Mickey bravely reached up and stroked his thumb along Ian's jaw, unable to stop touching him for some reason. After a short pause, he said, "I was sick to my fucking stomach last night when I saw you dancing on that guy," he grumbled, his voice raspy, not daring to look into Ian's eyes. "I fuckin' hated it. Hated seeing that guy's fucking hands all over you."
"You were jealous, huh?"
"Don't be a dick about this," Mickey snapped irritably.
Ian watched him for a few heartbeats before dipping his head and kissing Mickey softly on the mouth. "You're the only one I want, Mickey," he said as he then moved to straddle him. "Don't you know that by now? Anyone else would have left your indecisive ass a long time ago." He pinned Mickey's hands to the mattress and leaned down to kiss Mickey again, that time with more heat and intent.
When they broke apart, breathless, Mickey said, "Indecisive, huh? I'm here now, ain't I?"
"For now," Ian said, his tone despondent, his eyes dropping to Mickey's lips.
"I ain't goin' anywhere."
"No?"
"No," Mickey replied, his voice thick.
Ian smiled down at him and swooped in for another kiss. "I want you," he mumbled against Mickey's lips as he slowly began sliding against him, their hands still pinned to the mattress.
Mickey licked into Ian's mouth, and then they both grinned through the kiss, both feeling happier and more relaxed in that moment than they had in weeks. "Oh, you want me, huh?"
"So fuckin' much," Ian said before gasping as the kiss grew hungry and needy.
Mickey arched up against Ian and grabbed his ass, showing the other boy just how much he wanted him, too.
Ian pulled back and smiled gently at Mickey before he casually slid down the length of Mickey's body and disappeared under the blankets with a playful gleam in his eyes.
"Ian," Mickey chastised throatily, knowing they had way more to talk about, but he suddenly found himself unable to get the words out as Ian began undoing his pants while hidden beneath the covers.
Once Ian had Mickey's dick out and was stroking it, Mickey choked back a moan and glanced apprehensively towards the open door, and then over at the sleeping toddler in the crib. He looked back down at the covered, bobbing head. "What if someone walks in? We…fuck, we can't."
Ian moaned an answer around Mickey's cock and kept going.
Mickey soon found his inhibitions slipping away as Ian continued filthily sucking his dick. He arched his back and slipped his hands under the blankets to lightly grab at Ian's hair. "Feels so fucking good," he said as Ian's tight, wet, hot little mouth engulfed him. "Fuckin' amazing mouth."
Ian answered by releasing Mickey's cock with a soft pop of his lips, and then blowing on the sensitive head before sucking Mickey back down as far as he could and deepthroating him, gagging but soldiering on.
"So good, Ian, so fucking good," Mickey groaned, grabbing Ian's hair with both hands and guiding him. He fucked up into Ian's mouth slowly, already close. "Mm, fuck yeah, just like that. Keep doing that. Fuck."
"What the fuck, Ian!"
The head bobbing under the blankets suddenly stilled, and Mickey lifted his head from the pillow to stare in shock at Lip, who was standing in the doorway, a look of pure and utter disgust on his face.
"Don't you know how to fucking knock, fuck!" Mickey roared.
"Knock? The door was fucking wide open!" Lip yelled right back. "And fuck no, I don't gotta knock! This is my fucking room!"
Ian suddenly popped out from under the blankets breathless, purposely fixing his brother with a pointed glare and wiping at the corner of his mouth. "Well, it's my room, too, so if I wanna blow someone in my room I should be able to. Get the fuck out so I can finish him off!"
"What the fuck, Ian!" Lip exclaimed before finally turning and slamming the door shut behind him.
Ian and Mickey glanced at each other before they burst out laughing.
"I love fuckin' with him," Ian said with a grin.
"If he didn't know about us before, he definitely knows now," Mickey grumbled, knowing that Lip was just one more person he'd have to worry about who had something to hold over his head.
Suddenly, the toddler's head popped up over the side of the crib.
Mickey stared back at the kid disdainfully, and then he rested his head back on the pillow with a groan before rubbing a hand over his face.
"I guess we'll have to wait to finish this some other—" Before he could get the rest of his sentence out, Ian was already back under the blankets, sucking Mickey down despite their new audience. "—or we can keep going, that's cool, too," he choked out.
A little while later, Ian and Mickey finally let their grumbling stomachs and the luring smell of bacon get the best of them, and they made their way down to the kitchen, Ian leading the way and Mickey following hesitantly behind him, not looking forward to dealing with a fucking gaggle of Gallaghers that early in the morning.
Four heads shot up and watched as the pair stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs.
"Morning," Fiona finally said to cut the tension, sounding unsure as she looked back and forth between the two of them.
Lip just kept stabbing at his eggs, his face expressionless.
Ian and Mickey sat down in the two empty chairs at the table as the air continued to thicken with tension.
Carl decided to make shit even more awkward by saying, "Are you two boyfriends?"
"Carl," Fiona reprimanded.
"What?" Carl asked with a shrug. "He was sleeping in Ian's bed, ass to dick."
"That's enough," Ian warned his little brother before shooting Mickey an apologetic look.
"Is this the boy you like, Ian?" Debs asked. "The boy you were telling me about?"
Ian reached with his fork for a pancake and smiled gently. "Yeah, it is, Debs. This is Mickey."
Suddenly, Lip roughly scraped his chair back and left the room without a word, leaving everyone to stare after him.
"What crawled up his ass and died?" Carl asked.
"Just…eat your breakfast," Fiona answered before looking back at Ian and Mickey curiously.
Mickey just sat frozen in his chair, not knowing what to do, what to say, or how to act. Knowing that Ian's family knew his deep, dark secret was unsettling to say the fucking least. He relaxed a little when Ian squeezed his knee under the table.
"Did you guys fuck?" Carl asked, which earned him a slap on the back of the head from Fiona. "What!"
"Alright, Debs, Carl," Fiona sighed, "go upstairs and get ready for school."
Debbie and Carl collectively rolled their eyes and made their way upstairs, leaving Ian and Mickey alone with Fiona.
Fiona focused her attention on Ian, her disappointment in her little brother evident in her big brown eyes. "First off, I guess I'll start by asking if you're okay?"
Ian averted his eyes to the table and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"So, you were working at a goddamn go-go club?" Fiona retorted. "How does that even work? You're seventeen, for fuck's sake."
"Yeah," Ian answered, hesitant, "I figured a way around that."
Fiona sighed and averted her eyes to Mickey, who was watching Ian. If she didn't know any better, she would say that the kid actually seemed smitten with her brother. Still, she had her doubts about him, and she didn't like any of it at all. "Well, I have to get to work," she conceded with a sigh. "We'll talk about this later, got it? And will you please make sure Debbie and Carl leave for school on time?"
"Got it."
Fiona regarded him for a few seconds longer before sighing and leaning down to kiss Ian on the top of the head before heading out the door.
Once Debbie and Carl were out the door a little while later and on their way to school, Ian turned around to find Mickey leaning against the archway into the kitchen, his eyes trailing lasciviously down Ian's body.
"So, what about you, carrot top?" Mickey questioned. "You goin' to school today?"
"I don't know, why?" Ian asked with a smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. "Got a better idea of how I should spend my day?"
"Yeah," Mickey said, eyeing the telltale bulge in Ian's sweatpants. "You can start by getting the fuck on me," he finished as he strode over to Ian, gripped him by the back of the neck, and pulled him in for a hard, hungry kiss.
Ian pulled away shortly after with swollen lips, keeping their foreheads pressed together as he began fumbling with Mickey's zipper. "We have the place completely to ourselves for a few hours," he rasped as he slid his hand inside Mickey's jeans to stroke him. "I can fuck you right here on the couch."
"No, not here. Someone can walk in, man," Mickey husked back as he gripped Ian's shoulders and slid his hands up to grip around his neck. "Let's go up to your room."
Ian leaned in and pressed his mouth to Mickey's ear, feeling Mickey shudder beneath his fingers. "I wanna fuck you right here," he husked. "Bend you right over the couch and fuck that amazing ass."
"Jesus," Mickey whispered when Ian slipped his hands under his shirt, feathering his cold fingers over Mickey's warm back. "You really wanna fuck here?" he mumbled when Ian began gently nibbling on his neck. Mickey reached up and dug his fingers into red hair. "You want to fuck me on the couch, where anyone can walk in and see us?" he asked, practically stuttering now against Ian's ear.
"No one will see us. Everyone's at school, Fiona's at work. It's just you and me," Ian grumbled against Mickey's skin as he slid his hands from Mickey's back down into his pants and beneath his boxers, kneading that perfect ass and pulling Mickey even tighter against him.
Mickey began thrusting against Ian as he continued nipping, licking, and sucking at his neck. "Fuck, Ian," he panted, feeling himself starting to give in.
Their breathing became more erratic as Ian slid a leg between Mickey's, giving Mickey something to grind against. In no time, both of them were gasping and shaking with desire and want for each other.
"Get these fucking pants off," Ian ordered huskily as he stepped away and began undressing, unable to hold off any longer.
Mickey and Ian undressed as quickly as they could, both ready for it. It had been way too fucking long.
"C'mere," Ian rasped, taking Mickey's hand and leading him around to the front of the couch. "Kneel on the couch."
Mickey bit his lower lip and did as he was told, his eyes inadvertently glancing towards the front door. Sure, he was nervous about someone walking in, but the thrill of getting caught was also fucking hot as hell, he couldn't deny that.
All rational train of thought was lost when he felt large hands kneading his ass. "Shit," he murmured, and then he moaned when Ian blew softly against his hole. He never knew he would like someone playing with his ass so much.
"I'm gonna eat you out. You like when I do that, don't you? Like my tongue in your ass?" Ian rasped. On Mickey's nod, he sank down to the floor on his knees. He kneaded Mickey's ass and gave it a hard slap, causing Mickey to inhale sharply. Ian smiled to himself before leaning in and licking up the inside of Mickey's thigh. He bit Mickey's left ass cheek playfully, eliciting a moan from the other boy. He then licked his way up the other inner thigh and lightly tongued at Mickey's balls, over his perineum, and finally dipped his tongue against the puckered hole, causing Mickey to buck backward.
"Oh, shit," Mickey gasped as he pressed his face against his crossed arms over the back of the couch as Ian tongue-fucked him slowly.
Ian continued to lap and lick and suck at him as he reached down and stroked his own leaking dick, knowing he wasn't going to be able to stall much longer. He pulled back to spit at the puckered rim twice and groaned before moving back in to lick him open.
Mickey was panting and gasping as he pressed back against Ian's face, reaching a hand back to grab roughly onto Ian's hair as he nearly suffocated Ian with his ass.
Ian gripped Mickey's hips, holding Mickey still as he nuzzled his face in his ass. He circled his tongue teasingly around the tight ring of muscle before dipping his tongue inside. He eased his tongue in and out, causing Mickey to practically mewl and purr above him.
"Fuck, Ian. Jesus Christ, so fucking good," Mickey whined. "Fuck me with that tongue."
Ian moaned, loving the way Mickey was responding to him. He pulled away suddenly, earning a whimper from Mickey in the process, and stood up, still stroking his cock and wanting to get in that ass already.
"Wait," Mickey said breathlessly as he turned around and slid down to sit on the cushions in front of him. With his eyes locked lustfully on Ian's, he gripped Ian's dick with his hand and leaned forward to touch the tip of his tongue to the leaking slit as he slowly stroked him. "Mm."
Ian just stared down at him, his eyes dark with desire. He reached his hands up and lightly feathered his fingertips along Mickey's hollowed cheeks, and then he ran his fingers through Mickey's hair.
With their eyes still locked, Mickey sucked Ian down as far as he could take him, using his hand to make up for the rest.
As Mickey sucked his dick with gusto, Ian stroked his face and ran his fingers through his hair and murmured his praises. "You love how I taste? You love sucking my cock? You're so good at it, Mickey. Fuck, I missed you."
Mickey moaned around Ian's dick at the praise and continued to watch Ian, loving the way he was responding to him. He pulled away and teased the slit of Ian's cock with a few teasing flicks of his tongue, his hooded eyes never once leaving Ian's.
"You're so fucking hot, Mickey," Ian gasped, and then he grabbed Mickey by the arm and tugged him up. The kiss was hungry and demanding and sloppy as their tongues tangled through the taste of Ian's precome. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he murmured when they finally broke apart, gasping for air.
"So, fuck me," Mickey rasped, completely riled up.
"You're gonna kill me," Ian said breathlessly, "but the lube and condoms are upstairs."
"So get fucking moving, then!"
"Mm, eager for my cock, huh?" Ian teased. "Such a bossy little bottom…"
"Ian!" Mickey spat, and then he watched as Ian darted up the steps two at a time. In the meantime, Mickey got back on his knees on the couch and braced himself for Ian's cock. As he waited, he reached down and stroked his dick, knowing it wasn't going to take long for him to come once he had Ian's dick in him.
Ian returned and positioned himself behind Mickey. After rolling the condom on, he squirted lube on his fingers and coated two fingers evenly before positioning them at Mickey's hole. He grabbed Mickey's shoulder with one hand while the fingers of his free hand slid inside Mickey, stretching him. "So tight, Mick. So damn perfect."
Mickey bit down on his lip and pushed back against Ian's hand. He then gasped when Ian's fingers crooked and found that tight bundle of nerves buried inside him. "Alright, alright, let's go. I'm ready," he said impatiently. He moaned when he felt the tip of Ian's dick breach him and then slowly ease into him until Ian was buried to the hilt. "Fuck, I missed you," he gasped as he wiggled to adjust.
"Missed me, or missed my dick?" Ian asked teasingly, breathlessly, as he started his pace, making long, deep thrusts. He watched as Mickey's ass took his cock, and he threw his head back and moaned.
"Fuck…both," Mickey gasped.
Ian leaned forward over Mickey and rested his hands on Mickey's hands that were gripping the back of the couch. He slotted his fingers with Mickey's and angled his head to place soft kisses on the back of Mickey's neck. "Love you," he whispered against Mickey's damp skin.
Mickey grunted and rested his forehead against the back of the couch, wanting to say the words back, but not like that. Not while doing that.
Ian continued his thrusting as if he hadn't expected Mickey to say anything back, anyway.
They made love on the Gallagher couch and came together quicker than either of them may have wanted to. Afterward, they laid tangled together under the blanket that Ian had pulled down from the back of the couch to cover them with.
"That was fuckin' amazing," Mickey said breathlessly.
"What made it even better is you came all over the spot where Lip usually sits," Ian said, and then he grinned when Mickey buried his face in his neck and genuinely laughed.
They pressed kisses to each other's foreheads and cheeks, and then they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
Upon waking up a little while later, Mickey realized he was out of cigarettes and that was just something he couldn't deal with. They got dressed and left the Gallagher home in search of some smokes.
As they walked down the street in public, they made sure to keep some distance between each other, even though that didn't stop them from stealing sidelong, flirty glances and playful smirks at each other.
As they were walking, Ian laughed at something Mickey said. He looked up and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Linda standing outside of the Kash and Grab, sweeping the sidewalk in front of the store. "Fuck," he muttered, not wanting to see Linda or especially Kash.
Unfortunately, before they could turn and head back in the opposite direction, they were spotted.
"Ian?" Linda asked, reaching a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. "Where the hell have you been, kid? I haven't seen you in weeks."
"Hey, Linda," Ian drawled. "I've been around."
"You just up and disappeared on us," Linda continued.
"Yeah, I know," Ian said, shoving his hands into his pockets and sneaking a look at Mickey, whose eyes were downcast. "I had some stuff I had to deal with."
"So, I'm guessing you didn't hear about my piece of shit husband?" Linda continued bleakly. "I got an anonymous phone call a couple weeks back, telling me that my husband has been fucking underaged boys behind my back."
Ian went still, not knowing how to process that piece of information. He then snuck a look over at Mickey when realization set in.
Mickey was obviously avoiding his eyes at all costs as he looked down and rubbed at his mouth.
"I didn't know what to believe, so I confronted him about it. He denied it of course, but the fact that he packed up and disappeared in the middle of the night kind of said otherwise," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. She then sighed. "I'm better off, anyway."
"I'm sorry, Linda," Ian said lamely, hoping his guiltiness wasn't too obvious.
"Well, if you ever want your job back, let me know," Linda said. "The new kid we have now is one fry short of a happy meal."
"Yeah," Ian intoned, "maybe I will. Thanks, Linda."
Linda gave him a small, resigned smile before heading back into the store.
Ian slowly turned and looked at Mickey, watching as he finally lifted his eyes.
"The fuck you looking at?"
"It was you, wasn't it?" Ian mused. "You called Linda and told her about Kash, didn't you?"
Mickey thumbed at his lower lip. "Yeah, well, towelhead fucking with you meant he fucked with me, so asshole had to pay."
Ian just stared at him incredulously for a few heartbeats before shaking his head and laughing. "You're such an asshole, you know that." His voice then dropped a half an octave, and he swallowed as his eyes appreciatively slid down the length of Mickey's body. "Can we go get you some cigarettes now, so we can get back to my place, and I can fuck you again?"
Mickey's face broke into a slow grin, and then he let out a surprised puff of laughter when Ian grabbed him by the front of his coat and tugged him along.
Later that evening, Mickey sat around the Gallagher kitchen table, feeling very-much-so like he didn't belong. He had wanted to leave, feeling as if he was intruding, but Ian had convinced him to stay. The only thing that was keeping him grounded and stopping him from fleeing straight out the door was Ian's leg pressed up against his under the table.
"Everyone hungry?" Fiona asked cheerfully from in front of the stove as she stirred the pasta. Debbie was helping her prepare dinner, and Carl was busy sitting before Liam, pulling faces and making noises to get the kid to laugh.
Just then, the back door opened and Lip walked in, bringing a blast of cold air in with him. "Dinner smells good, I'm famished," he said before his eyes fell on Mickey. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he exclaimed before looking at Fiona. "He's staying for dinner now? Am I the only one who sees how fucked up this is?"
"Lip," Fiona sighed. "Don't start."
"Fuck you," Ian spat.
Lip shot Ian and Mickey the darkest look he could muster before disappearing upstairs.
"I'm gonna go talk to him," Fiona said, turning away from the stove. She then stood awkwardly and wiped her hands on her apron. "He's still a little weirded out about you two being…together? He'll come around eventually."
Ian sighed and ran a hand down his face before sneaking a look at Mickey once Fiona was gone. "Sorry about that, he's an asshole."
Mickey stood up, needing to get the hell out of there. "I'm gonna go have a smoke."
"Are you comin' back?" Ian asked, not even bothering to hide his desperation.
Mickey resisted the strong urge to reach out and stroke Ian's cheek to reassure him, only because he was very much aware of the looks the younger Gallaghers were giving them already. "Chill, man, I'll be back. I'm just going right outside."
Once he was outside on the back porch and away from the stuffiness of the kitchen, he ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily. As much as he wanted to be there with Ian, he didn't know how much more of the Gallaghers and their weird looks he could take. Besides, having so many people suddenly know your biggest, darkest secret was unnerving, to say the fucking least.
The screen door opened behind him and he expected Ian to come up beside him, but, instead, Carl moved to stand next to him.
Mickey looked down at the kid, his eyebrow quirked. "Can I help you with something?"
"It's my porch," Carl huffed. "Don't gotta explain shit to you about why I'm out here."
Mickey resisted the smirk that tugged at his lips, thinking maybe this Gallagher wasn't so bad. He thought about his next action only briefly before holding his cigarette out for the younger boy to take.
Carl stared at the cigarette and immediately brightened up as he took it. He took a couple drags like a pro before handing it back. "So," he began after a weird pause. "Are you and my brother boyfriends?"
Mickey honestly didn't know how to answer that. "We hang out."
"You were in his bed," Carl pointed out. "Your ass was against his dick."
Mickey looked away and flicked his cigarette, suddenly wishing the little shit would go away. "You're a nosy little fucker, aren't you?"
"It's cool, you know, if you are," Carl continued. "I was just wondering. He seems happy around you."
Mickey was quiet for a long time, knowing that anything he said could and probably would be held against him, "I'm happy around him, too…I guess," he added as an afterthought, not wanting to sound too much like a bitch.
"Do you love him?" Carl asked, actually sounding sincere.
Mickey gripped the railing in front of him and hung his head. He pushed forward a little and opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted when the door opened behind them.
"You guys okay out here?" Ian asked, his eyes darting between them.
"Yeah, all good," Mickey grumbled.
"Dinner's ready," Ian said, and he opened the screen door to allow Carl to sneak in under his arm. He looked at Mickey, his expression soft. "Are you staying? There's plenty of spaghetti to go around."
"Yeah," Mickey said, tossing his cigarette out into the night. He then grabbed the hem of Ian's shirt and tugged him forward. He leaned up and kissed Ian sweetly on the mouth. When they broke apart, he muttered, "I'm staying."
Frank Gallagher stumbled into the Alibi Room, already drunk from the bottle of scotch he'd been toting around the neighborhood all day, but he figured he could finish himself off there for the night. He staggered his way up to the bar and sat on a stool, ignoring Kevin's disapproving sneer. "Shot of bourbon, my good man. Keep 'em comin'," he slurred, slapping a handful of crumpled bills on the bar top.
Just as Frank got the shot in his hand, a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, and he peered back to find Terry Milkovich towering behind him.
"Oh, hey there," he said dejectedly, turning in his stool to get a better look at the other man. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, a fist connected hard against his nose, causing Frank to tumble backwards to the floor in a blubbering, cursing heap.
"Come on, guys, take it outside," Kevin warned, halfheartedly. "I don't want blood all over the place. I just waxed the floors."
Terry leaned down over Frank menacingly. "You think you could get over on me, get out of giving me my money? Just because my son and your faggot kid got me the money, doesn't mean you're free and clear, Gallagher. You still owe me, you piece of shit."
Frank stared up at him through narrowed eyes as he held his broken nose, blood pouring through his fingers. "Ah, come on," he slurred. "You're not gonna let me slide on technicalities?"
Terry bent down and grabbed Frank roughly by the wool collar of his coat, pulling his fist back to strike again.
"I mean, we're practically family," Frank continued, flinching even as he spoke.
"Family?" Terry rasped. "What the fuck are you on about, Gallagher?"
"Well, I figured since our boys are now giving it to each other up the pooper, that makes us practically related," Frank said, his words hanging heavily in the air as Terry's grip on him loosened.
"Oh, fuck," Kevin uttered.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Terry asked, a dark look crossing his face as Frank's words sank in.
Frank laughed nervously, and then he sighed a heavy sigh of relief when Terry let go of him completely. He flattened himself on the floor and stared up at the ceiling as Terry Milkovich slammed out of the bar in a fit of rage. "Bartender," Frank groused, lifting a finger in the air. "I'm gonna need another shot."
"What are we even doing right now?" Ian asked with a laugh as he followed Mickey through a break in the fence and onto the baseball field. "It's too cold to be out here, especially when my family knows about us, and we can actually fuck where it's warm now."
"Just shut up, will ya? I didn't bring you out here to fuck," Mickey said before reaching back and surprising Ian by taking his hand. "Just come on and stop arguing with me. Fuck."
Ian could only grin as he allowed Mickey to lead him out to the middle of the field. He watched with growing interest as Mickey unhooked the backpack from his shoulders and opened it, pulling out a threadbare blanket and spreading it out over the pitcher's mound.
After the blanket was laid out, Mickey sat down and motioned for Ian to follow suit with a jerk of his head. Once Ian was sitting next to him, he reached into his backpack and pulled out two beers.
Mickey glanced over at Ian with a perturbed look. "Does your mouth ever stop running?"
"You weren't complaining about my mouth this morning," Ian quipped as he took the proffered beer.
Mickey kept looking at Ian as he brought his beer to his mouth and took a sip. He then looked away and burped. He waited a bit to say, "I wanted to bring you out here to talk. There's some serious shit we need to discuss that really needs to be discussed before any of this can go any further."
Ian's shoulders slumped and he nodded, hoping they would've been able to keep living in their own little happy bubble for a little while longer. "I know."
"Shit," Mickey said as he looked Ian over. "You're fucking shivering, man. Maybe this wasn't my brightest idea. Let's just go back to the place. We can talk there."
"No," Ian said, leaning into him a little. "I kinda like being out here with you like this."
Mickey smirked, and then he broke the intense eye contact to look up at the night sky. "Yeah, I guess it is kinda fucking romantic as all fuck, ain't it? The stars being all out and shit."
"Spoken like a true poet," Ian teased. He was caught off guard when Mickey leaned in and kissed him gently; with just a soft, sweet brushing of lips.
When they broke apart, they touched foreheads and smiled, their ragged breathing mingling between them in white puffs.
"C'mere," Mickey rasped as he wrapped an arm around Ian's shoulders and pulled him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to Ian's temple. "I'll keep ya warm."
Mickey had been intent on bringing Ian to the baseball field to talk about the future and circumstances of their relationship, important things that definitely needed to be discussed, things like his dad and the fact that he was closeted, but he realized, sitting there under the stars with his arm wrapped around Ian, they could deal with the bad shit another time.
They hadn't been able to have many good days since being back home. He figured they deserved at least one.