The next morning, Mickey moaned and blindly extended his left arm, feeling nothing but space next to him. He opened his eyes into bleary slits to find that Ian had gotten out of bed without waking him.

Unnecessary panic gripped his heart as he sat up and glanced around the room. Relief immediately washed through him when he saw Ian sitting at the table, the phone held up to his ear. He sat back against the headboard and rubbed tiredly at his eye as he stared at Ian's back and listened to him talk.

"I'm fine, Lip," Ian muttered, his forehead pressed against the palm of his free hand. "I promise, we have everything under control. I should be home in a couple days. Don't worry about me. Just make sure you guys stay at Kev and Veronica's, alright? Remember, no cops."

Mickey climbed off the bed and sat down in the chair next to Ian, catching his eyes when he glanced up.

"Tell everyone I love them," Ian said into the phone, his voice shaking slightly as he held Mickey's gaze. "I'll be home soon," he finished before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up. He ran a hand over his face with an exhausted sigh. "I had to hang up," he said. "He wouldn't stop askin' questions."

"They're worried about you," Mickey said, wanting to reach over and squeeze Ian's hand, but he refrained.

"Yeah," Ian said, rubbing the back of his neck, his lower lip trembling enough for Mickey to notice.

"Hey, none of that shit, alright?" Mickey said, finally reaching over and placing his hand over Ian's. "Everything's cool."

"Yeah, you said that before and look how everything turned out," Ian snapped, pulling his hand from Mickey's and standing up to pace to the other side of the room.

Mickey watched him, his words cutting deep, but he supposed Ian had a right to say them. He couldn't blame Ian for being pissed off at him and the entire situation, and he sure as hell couldn't blame Ian for not trusting him. He was the reason Ian was in the fucked-up situation, to begin with.

Ian paced more before sighing and turning to face him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. My head's all fucked up right now."

"It's alright, man," Mickey said with a shrug. "I get it."

Ian ran a hand over his face and sat down on the edge of the unmade bed, unaware of Mickey's inner turmoil.

"You wanna go get some breakfast or something?" Mickey asked after a beat, trying to break the tension. "Maybe some food will do you good?"

"No," Ian grumbled while looking down at his hands. "I don't have much of an appetite."

"That's a fuckin' first," Mickey teased, eager to lighten the mood.

Ian cracked a weak smile but still didn't look up.

Mickey's heart ached at the sight, missing the Ian from a few short days ago: the bubbly, smiling, joke-telling, non-stop-talking Ian. He stood up and walked towards him but stopped when Ian looked up abruptly, his eyes dark and intense.

"Don't, Mickey."

Mickey's arms dropped to his sides. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"Look, I appreciate you playin' mother hen last night, but you don't have to act like you give a shit about me," Ian started. "You don't have to spoon me in bed, or hold my hand, or clean my wounds."

"Ian, I don't—"

"I'm not some broken little faggot who needs to be fixed, alright?" Ian interrupted. "What happened last night was shitty, but I don't want you to feel as if you have to pretend to care about me."

"Look, I don't—"

"No, Mickey, you look—"

"Fuck, Ian, will you shut up and let me talk?" Mickey exclaimed, suddenly irritated. "I'm not coddlin' you because I feel sorry for you, asshole. I… fuck, I care about you, alright?"

Ian jutted his chin, staring at him glaringly. "Fuck you, you're just feelin' guilty."

"Of course I feel fuckin' guilty!" Mickey exclaimed, taking Ian by surprise. "If I woulda come up with a better plan, that never woulda happened to you. If I woulda been there—"

Ian stood up and got in Mickey's face, using his height advantage against him. "It was my choice to do it, my decision, and I was the stupid fucking idiot who got in the guy's car! Don't feel sorry for me, Mickey. I don't need your pity! I don't need anything from you."

Mickey glared back at him, his body trembling with anger, and his chest rising and falling rapidly with every sharp breath he took. "Yeah? Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you," Ian fired back, his eyes dark and chest heaving.

"Fuck you," Mickey breathed, his eyes dropping to Ian's lips. Before either of them realized what was happening, he engulfed Ian's face in his hands and kissed him hard.

Ian stumbled backward against the force of it and reached up, his fingers encircling Mickey's wrists. After a few beats, he kissed him back fervently, hoping it didn't bite him in the ass later.

Mickey licked into Ian's mouth and swiped his tongue against his teeth, moaning deep in the back of his throat.

"Wait," Ian gasped against Mickey's mouth before pulling back, his breathing erratic. "You don't… You don't have to—"

"Shut up already," Mickey murmured before surging back in for another desperate kiss. He pushed forward, taking Ian with him until Ian's legs hit the edge of the bed.

Ian fell backward onto the bed, unlatching his mouth from Mickey's for only a second before Mickey was descending on him. He leaned up and hungrily accepted his mouth again as he laid back, Mickey maneuvering on top of him, straddling him.

Mickey pulled away from the biting kiss to gaze down into Ian's eyes. He was past the point of taking anything back and denying it. He didn't even want to deny it anymore. He was sick of fighting the bizarre attraction; he wanted Ian fucking Gallagher.

"Mick," Ian whispered, his chest heaving, lips parted, and cheeks flushed. "I don't want you to do anything you're gonna regret. I don't know if I can handle it again. If you're gonna back out, fuckin' do it now."

Mickey smoothed his hands down Ian's sides, found his wrists, and grabbed Ian's hands, pinning them to the mattress above Ian's head as he stared down at him. "Let's take it slow, alright?" On Ian's nod, he dipped his head down and kissed him slowly.

Ian unlocked one hand from Mickey's grip, slipped it under his shirt, and smoothed his hand over the soft, warm skin of Mickey's lower back, causing Mickey to sigh into his mouth. Breaking the kiss, he asked, "Too fast?"

Mickey pressed his face into Ian's neck and sprinkled kisses against his pulse point. "Don't think so."

Ian grinned against his hair as he snuck his hand even higher up, dragging Mickey's shirt with it.

Mickey suddenly pulled away and sat back. In one swift motion, he tore his shirt over his head and tossed the garment across the room.

Ian grinned up at him as he felt Mickey's chest and pinched his nipples before sliding his hands down Mickey's stomach. He held his breath as he hooked his fingers underneath the waistline of Mickey's sweatpants.

Mickey stared down at him, desire flashing in his eyes.

"This too fast?" Ian asked, swallowing hard as he gauged his reaction.

Mickey licks his lips as he kept his eyes locked on Ian's. He then tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and bit back a moan when Ian rubbed his erection through his pants. "Maybe I can lose the pants," he breathed before standing up and removing his sweats.

Ian propped himself up on his elbows and smiled as he watched Mickey quickly strip in front of him. He then sat up and grabbed Mickey's hand once he was naked. He could tell Mickey was apprehensive and maybe even a bit shy about being so fully exposed. "You're awesome," he murmured, tugging him back onto the bed. He gripped Mickey's head and pulled him back in for a searing kiss. As they kissed hungrily, he maneuvered them so Mickey was on his back.

Mickey stared up at him when he pulled back. He didn't know how Ian could be so damn confident in his every move, whereas he was shaking from head to toe, having never gone that far with a guy before.

Ian playfully nosed at Mickey's jaw before whispering hotly in his ear, "Can I suck your dick?"

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his cool. "Do whatever the fuck you want," he said, though he had a feeling it didn't come out as confident as he had wanted it to.

Ian gave him that sexy little smirk again before dipping his head and kissing him chastely. He sprinkled kisses on his chin, throat, and the small dip between his pecs.

Mickey watched with hooded eyes as Ian continued his slow descent. It was on the tip of his tongue to stop Ian from going further because, truth be told, as much as he wanted Ian, it was all freaking him the fuck out. That whole thought process went out the window as soon as Ian's mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

"Oh, shit, Ian. Fuck, man," Mickey moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Instinctively, he carded his fingers through Ian's hair, not wanting him to stop. He never wanted him to fucking stop.

Ian smiled around Mickey's cock as he set his pace, taking him in as far as he could, using his hand to work the rest.

Mickey made noises he never heard himself make before. He opened his eyes after a bit, feeling the urge to watch Ian. What he saw caused his whole body to shudder: Ian working that fucking amazing mouth on his cock as his eyes stared lustfully back at him.

"Oh, shit, feels so fuckin' good," he moaned again, digging his head back into the pillow. It embarrassed him, knowing he wouldn't last much longer. He held Ian's head steady with both hands as Ian bobbed his head and moaned around his cock. He felt his orgasm nearing and gave Ian a warning. "I'm gonna fuckin' come already," he panted through his heavy breathing, but Ian kept going, working his mouth, hand, and throat at a steady pace.

He tangled his fingers in Ian's hair and thrust his hips up, aching to spill over that sweet edge as he fucked up into Ian's mouth. After a few more skillful bobs of Ian's mouth, he gasped, his entire body trembling as he came down Ian's throat.

Ian continued to suck him off, slow and steadily until Mickey couldn't take it anymore and practically begged him to stop. He released Mickey's cock with a pop before crawling his way up Mickey's body and falling beside him, propping up on an elbow and looking down to watch Mickey's face as he wiped his messy chin with the back of his hand.

Mickey opened his eyes and stared up at Ian in a daze, realizing he must look like a fucking idiot right then, all sweaty and panting like a goddamn dog. "I fuckin' love that mouth of yours."

"Oh, now you love it, huh?" Ian exclaimed, his eyes bright.

"Fuck you," Mickey said through his breathlessness.

Ian's smile grew even bigger as he leaned down to kiss him tenderly on the lips.

Mickey gripped the back of Ian's head and held him down before slipping his tongue into his mouth, tasting himself on those lips. When they broke apart, his next statement had Ian rolling over onto his back and laughing stupidly at the ceiling.

"Why the fuck didn't we do that sooner?"

A little while later, Mickey moaned as he stretched, opening his eyes and getting his bearings about him. He glanced over at Ian, who was sleeping soundly beside him. He didn't remember falling asleep.

Gently, he rolled over onto his side and took in the sight of Ian sleeping. He couldn't believe he was watching another dude sleep, but damn if Ian Gallagher wasn't fucking beautiful. He allowed his eyes to travel over Ian's soft features: his pale skin, the splatter of freckles across his cheeks, the way his nose turned up the slightest bit, those soft plump lips parted slightly…

Fuck, he had to get a grip.

He then took in the ugly gash on Ian's forehead, and he felt the fiery anger in his chest once more when he thought about the fucker that hurt him. He knew, without a doubt, that if he was to ever get his hands on the guy, he'd be going to jail for first-degree murder.

He watched Ian for a few more beats before groaning and rolling out of bed. Still naked, he walked to the dresser and grabbed his smokes, pulling one out and lighting it. When he turned back towards the bed, he halted when he found Ian watching him.

"Hey," Ian said.

Mickey took a long, satisfying drag off his cigarette and exhaled the smoke with a laugh. "The fuck's that look for?" he asked. "You don't have to get all doe-eyed on me, Gallagher, we're cool." He wanted to act nonchalant about the whole thing, not wanting Ian to know that he was turning him into a pile of goo on the inside. He had a rep to uphold.

Ian pushed himself into a sitting position and groaned as he grabbed his forehead. "This shit hurts."

Mickey walked over to him, the cigarette dangling between his lips, and gripped Ian's chin lightly, tipping his head back so he could inspect the wound. "It looks good. Luckily, it was a straight gash, so it should heal up quick." He dropped his eyes to Ian's, and his heart fluttered a little before he pulled his hand back.

Succumbing to sexual activity with Ian was one thing he could get behind; acknowledging genuine feelings was something he would avoid doing altogether.

He believed he could have a strictly physical relationship with Ian. He was pretty fucking sure that after maybe one or two (or ten) sexual encounters, he could get Ian out of his system, and he would go back to his regularly scheduled programming.

Ian reached up, taking Mickey by surprise, and plucked the cigarette from between his lips and brought it to his own lips to take a slow drag, never breaking eye contact.

"Now you're stealin' my cigarettes, huh?" Mickey chastised, not realizing that he was smiling like an idiot.

Ian took another defiant hit of the stolen cigarette before grinning. "It's my reward for suckin' your dick so good earlier."

"Oh, really? Hate to break it to ya, but you weren't that good," Mickey lied, his eyes falling to Ian's mouth as he took another hit.

"Please, I was fuckin' fantastic."

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey said, kneeling on the bed and plucking the cigarette from Ian's mouth. Before he could fully think about what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed Ian slowly and thoroughly.

Ian moaned through the kiss and wrapped an arm around Mickey's neck, pulling him closer as they reclined back into the blankets.

Mickey pushed his thoughts away into the back of his head, telling himself that it was all physical. There was no way in hell he was falling for Ian; it wasn't fucking happening.

Still, as Ian's tongue deliciously invaded his mouth, and his fingers dug into his back just enough to hurt a bit, he realized there was nowhere else he'd rather be right then.