Ian laced his fingers through Mickey's as they kissed, their tongues lazily tangling. He wanted to take it further (so much fucking further), but he knew Mickey enough to know that kissing was about as far as he would take it. He hoped that wasn't the case for too long. Deciding to be a gentleman, Ian pulled away first and touched his forehead to Mickey's, their breathing ragged as they breathed the same air.

"We can turn this down a notch. I mean, if you want to," he murmured. "I know this is prob'ly a lot for you to handle." He pulled back a bit, enough to look Mickey in the eyes. "Is this the furthest you've gone with a guy?"

Mickey glanced away, looking uncomfortable with the question. "There you go ruinin' shit with that stupid fuckin' mouth of yours again."

"I'd like to show you what else my mouth can do," Ian flirted. "I'm just tryin' to determine if you're ready for it or not." He smiled a little and leaned in for another kiss.

Mickey turned his head before their lips could meet, unlocked his hands from Ian's, and bucked upwards, motioning for Ian to get off.

Ian reluctantly dismounted Mickey and sat back against the headboard, watching as Mickey got off the bed and walked to the dresser. He watched as Mickey tapped a cigarette into his palm before lighting it.

"Okay," he muttered while running a hand over the top of his head. He didn't know how they had gone from 60 to 0 in a matter of seconds. "Sorry if I said something to offend you or piss you off."

"Well, you fuckin' did," Mickey snapped before taking a slow drag off his smoke. "I already told you, I'm not fuckin' gay."

Ian hesitated before saying, "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the TV remote I felt pressin' against my leg a few minutes ago." After seeing the anger registering on Mickey's face, he wished he had the ability to think before speaking.

"Fuck you, asshole," Mickey hissed. "Look, kissin' is one thing, what the fuck ever. Anything involvin' our dicks is outta the fuckin' question."

"I don't know, I think kissin' is pretty intimate," Ian said. "I don't know a lot of straight guys who would kiss another guy the way you kiss me."

"Fuck you."

Ian watched Mickey as he walked to the ugly green chair and sat down. "So, you've never been with a guy before, not one? I'm the first guy you ever even kissed?"

"What part of 'I'm not fucking gay' don't you get, Gallagher?" Mickey spat before taking another nervous drag off his cigarette.

"So you make out with me, your dick gets hard, and you grab my ass, but you're not gay?" Ian asked. "I'm just tryin' to piece everything together here."

Mickey said nothing. After putting the cigarette out, he bent down to grab his shoes, intent on leaving the room to get some space before he strangled the stupid fucking redhead with his stupid-ass freckles and invasive questions.

"Where are you going?"

"The fuck away from you, that's where."

"You can't just leave every time we have a disagreement."

"The fuck I can't."

"Talk to me, Mickey," Ian pleaded. "Make me understand. I don't think I've ever been so fuckin' confused about anything in my life."

"It was a mistake, alright?" Mickey interrupted before standing up and squaring his shoulders. "It shoulda never happened. I'm sorry I won't touch your dick, or whatever it is you want me to do, but that's the way it's gonna fuckin' be. Got it?"

Ian shot out of bed as Mickey turned to open the door, letting in a rush of cold air. He pressed himself against Mickey's back and reached around him, slamming the door shut. "Don't go," he muttered against the nape of his neck.

"Back the fuck off, Gallagher."

"It's alright if you're confused, I get it. For a long time, I didn't wanna acknowledge it, either." Ian gasped in surprise when Mickey spun around suddenly and shoved him hard, causing him to stumble backward. His leg hit the corner of the bed. He fell at an awkward angle, his hip connecting hard with the floor. "Fuck!" he cried out in pain.

Mickey stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Ian grabbed onto the bed for support and stood up long enough to sit down on the bed, all the while wincing in pain. "What the fuck, Mickey? First, you're shovin' your tongue down my throat, tellin' me how much I don't disgust you, and the next minute you're tryin' to kick my ass!"

Mickey watched him for a few beats before turning and leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ian stared at the closed door before falling back onto the mattress. He ran his hands over his face and groaned, feeling like they'd taken three steps back.

A little over an hour later, Mickey returned to the room to find Ian in bed watching a late-night talk show with the lights off and the rough blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Where'd you go?" Ian asked, his voice sounding small under the blankets.

"Don't worry about it."

"I didn't think you were comin' back."

"I shouldn't have," Mickey snapped. "I shoulda left your ass here to fend for yourself."

"So, this is how it's gonna be, huh?" Ian asked. "Back to square one, like nothin' ever happened?"

"As far as I'm concerned, nothing did happen," Mickey said as he took off his coat and tossed it aside.

"Oh, okay."

"Look, let's get a few things straight here, alright?" Mickey spat. "What happened in this room is never gonna happen again. It was a moment of fuckin' stupidity on my part. We're here for one reason, and that's savin' your stupid ass from gettin' killed, nothing else. When this is all over, we're gonna go our separate ways, and that'll be the end of it. None of this-" he motioned the space between them, "-means shit to me. Remember that."

Ian swallowed back his emotions and watched as Mickey sat down in the green chair, abruptly ending the conversation. He'd already decided that, even though he wanted more from Mickey, he would do whatever he wanted. If Mickey wanted to pretend nothing happened, that there wasn't a weird connection between them, then he had no choice but to go along with it.

Mickey curled up as best he could on the green chair and prepared himself for a long and restless night because he sure as hell wasn't sleeping in that bed with Ian. He was intent on getting shit over with and forgetting Ian Gallagher ever existed. He had taken his head out of the game for too long. He had gotten himself mixed up in some crazy, fucked-up emotions, and he had to make things right before everything completely fucking derailed beyond his control.

Ian sat up and leaned over to turn on the small bedside lamp, flooding the room with light.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Mickey groaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling.

"Oh, relax," Ian retorted. "If you don't wanna mention the kissin' and ass grabbin' again, that's fine, I won't bring it up again. Trust me, I won't lose any sleep over it."

Mickey shot him a baleful look before glancing away.

"I wanted to talk to you about this idea I had," Ian began. "About gettin' the money."

"You have an idea?" Mickey asked, sounding skeptical. "One that doesn't involve old guys stickin' their dicks up your ass?"

"Yeah," Ian smirked before shrugging a bare shoulder. "While you were out, I was thinkin' of ways we could make money. I mean, that's why we're here, right?"

"Of course it fuckin' is," Mickey snapped as he uncurled from his awkward position and sat up. "Spit it out, asshole, what's your big idea?"

Ian hesitated before saying, "You know how I suggested prostituting myself?"

"Yeah," Mickey answered warily, his brows knitted together, not liking where the conversation was going.

"What if I didn't sell my body?" Ian said. "What if I just did a little baiting?"

"Baiting?" Mickey asked. "The fuck is that?"

"Yeah, baiting," Ian said before sitting forward, excited about his idea. "What if we scope out bars and clubs for rich married guys? I can, you know, work my magic on 'em and lure 'em back here."

"You wanna go out alone and lure guys back here?"

"Pretty sure that's what I just said."

"Yeah, 'cause that sounds fuckin' safe," Mickey retorted.

Ian sighed. "I'll be fine, Mickey. You can hide in the closet or something, ready to pounce. I'll get the guys going. Once things get hot and heavy, you can jump out, snap a picture, and we can blackmail the creeps into givin' us money."

Mickey took in everything Ian was saying. On one hand, it seemed like a decent enough plan that could work. On the other hand (the one he wanted to forget about), the thought of Ian flirting with and luring strange guys didn't sit too well with him. But really, what other choice did they have? They didn't have a lot of options, and they'd already been gone too long as it was.

Ian watched him, waiting. "Well?"

"I'll think about it," Mickey settled on.

"What's there to think about?" Ian exclaimed. "It's a perfect fuckin' plan, and you know it!"

"Yeah, what if somethin' goes wrong, dipshit?"

"What could go wrong? You'll be here to make sure everything goes smoothly," Ian said with a small smile. "Besides, if someone tries to pull anything funny, I'm perfectly capable of handlin' myself."

"Right, I forgot," Mickey snapped. "Cause you're so tough."

"This is my ass on the line here, Mickey," Ian said after a beat. "I wanna do this. I can do this. All it'll take is a few guys. We can have the money in a couple of days."

"It ain't just your ass on the line here, Gallagher," Mickey said. "I'm in this shit too, remember?"

Ian locked eyes with him and nodded. "I know."

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian's intense stare and rubbed a hand over his face. After a few beats, he nodded against his better judgment. "Fuck it, we'll do it. Let's get some sleep. We can iron out the details in the morning."

Ian smiled, feeling pleased with himself. He laid down and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "You know, you can sleep in the bed if you want. I'll keep my hands and dick to myself, I promise."

"Eat me."

Ian bit back a sarcastic comment, knowing Mickey would most likely be uncomfortable with an innuendo. Instead, he said, "You can't sleep in that chair, Mickey. Just get in the damn bed. Hell, sleep with your head at the bottom if you want to."

Mickey sat and stewed stubbornly for a few beats before standing. "Fine, but I better not feel anything go near my fuckin' ass."

"Trust me, I want nothin' to do with your ass."

Mickey crawled into the bed, his head at the bottom, and his feet at Ian's head. He remained still as he tried to get acclimated to the awkward situation. The fact that Ian was half-naked and only a few inches away unnerved him.

"Though you do have really nice feet," Ian said, breaking the awkward silence.

Mickey took a moment to register the comment before grinning into the dark despite himself. "You're a fuckin' dick."

Ian laughed as he leaned over to turn off the lamp. "Night, Mickey."

"Night," Mickey muttered.

He remained awake long after Ian fell asleep.