Ian kept his grip on the front of Mickey's coat, with his face buried in the nylon fabric. He didn't want to pull away or let go; he was afraid it would all be a dream, that Mickey would disappear right before him.

Mickey eventually pulled away first, stealing Ian's breath with him as he went. "Fuck…"

Ian kept his eyes closed as they separated. "You came," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Can't believe you came."

"What you did was fuckin' stupid, Ian," Mickey breathed, cupping Ian's sweet face in his rough hands as he whispered the words against his forehead. "You're stupid, you hear me?"

"I needed to see you," Ian said as he pressed his forehead harder against Mickey's lips, relishing even the slightest bit of contact.

"I told you to keep my fuckin' sister out of it," Mickey said, even though his tone remained soft, his lips still pressed against Ian's skin.

"I didn't tell her anything, I promise." Ian pulled back and looked into Mickey's eyes for the first time in three days, even though it felt like it had been an eternity since he stared into those beautiful blue eyes.

"Yeah, well, she's been askin' stupid questions ever since," Mickey spat.

Ian opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips. The street lights shadowed Mickey's face, but he could still see the bruises and cuts in sharp contrast against his pale skin. "Shit, Mickey," he said before pulling away. He reached up and gently touched Mickey's bruised cheek. "What the hell happened to your face?"

"My face? You should see the rest a me," Mickey said in a weak attempt at a joke.

Ian frowned as he traced the cut on Mickey's forehead.

"Don't, Gallagher." Mickey sneered and ducked away from Ian's touch. "I'm fine."

"Your dad," Ian said after a few beats. "Your fuckin' dad did this to you, didn't he?"

"The fuck did you think was gonna happen?" Mickey snapped, taking a full step back. "Hell, I think I got off pretty fuckin' easy."

"Your dad beat the shit outta you," Ian retorted, intense anger coursing through him. "How is that you getting off easy?"

"Neither of us are layin' dead in a fuckin' ditch, are we?"

"Mickey."

"Let it the fuck go, Gallagher," Mickey admonished before brushing past him and heading towards the dugout. "I got a beatdown, he got his money, you're safe, and it's over. It's done."

Ian hesitated with a heavy heart before turning to follow him.

Mickey dumped the backpack he'd brought with him onto the bench and pulled out a beer. "Shotgun?" he asked, fully intent on changing the subject.

Ian sighed before walking over to him. He grabbed Mickey's arm and forced him around to face him. "Mickey, look at me."

Mickey froze with his finger on the tab of his beer. He eventually deflated under Ian's scrutiny and dropped his head, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Fuck," he muttered.

"I missed you," Ian mumbled before hooking a finger under Mickey's chin. He tilted Mickey's face up to his and placed a chaste kiss on his cut lower lip. "I really fuckin' missed you."

Mickey froze against the kiss for only a few beats before the beer he had been holding dropped to the ground and exploded in a frothy mess at their feet. He wrapped his arms around Ian's neck and pressed their bodies tighter together.

Ian wrapped his arms around him as they kissed thoroughly. "I missed you so much," he said as he broke away from the kiss only to latch his mouth onto Mickey's neck. "So much," he murmured, unable to get enough of him.

Mickey moaned and tipped his head back, giving Ian better access.

He'd shown up intending to tell Ian that they couldn't do it; that he couldn't be around him, not while his dad was alive and breathing. As soon as he saw Ian, though, he couldn't find the words.

"Missed you too," he muttered after a few beats. It was all he could say; it was the only truth in his whole fucked-up situation.

Ian kissed his way up Mickey's neck before latching his mouth onto his again, that time harder and hungrier. His fingers fumbled with Mickey's coat zipper, and then he was peeling Mickey's coat from his shoulders.

Mickey shrugged his coat off, letting go of Ian for only a few beats before pressing their bodies back together. It didn't matter that the temperature was nearing freezing, their bodies were burning up from sheer bodily contact alone.

"I didn't think you'd come," Ian panted as he reached between them and began undoing Mickey's pants.

"I wasn't goin' to," Mickey breathed. He groaned when Ian's hand slipped inside his boxers to grip his dick. "It's kinda pathetic that you couldn't go three days without me."

"You couldn't go without me, either," Ian panted as he continued stroking him. "That's why you showed up."

Mickey answered by leaning in and taking Ian's bottom lip into his mouth and tugging it playfully between his teeth.

Ian pushed Mickey back a few steps and pressed him against the fence. "Want you. I want you so bad, Mickey. Right here. Missed you."

Mickey did nothing to protest. He watched Ian intently, allowing him to take control.

Ian grabbed Mickey's wrists and brought them up, pressing his hands against the fence behind him. He dragged his hands back down Mickey's arms but stopped when he noticed something on his left wrist.

He thumbed the object delicately, allowing the realization to sink in. He slowly lifted his eyes to meet Mickey's intense ones and watched as Mickey visibly swallowed. He said nothing, just leaned in and slotted his mouth perfectly with Mickey's, his hands finally making their slow descent down his arms to slide down and grip Mickey's waist.

Mickey kissed him back just as fervently, his hands gripping the fence above and behind his head, letting Ian guide the slow kiss completely.

Ian pulled back with a gentle tug on Mickey's bottom lip and touched their foreheads together. "You kept my watch," he pointed out breathlessly.

"It, uh, it was that or your booty shorts, and I wasn't fuckin' wearin' those," Mickey tried to joke, but his words came out tumbling and shaky.

Ian stared back at him before slowly grinning. Finally, he tossed his head back and let out his first genuine laugh in days.

Mickey watched Ian laugh as a smile grew on his own face. A laugh then bubbled from his lips. He reached out and gripped the back of Ian's neck and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. "Come on," he mumbled against Ian's mouth. "Let's sit down. There's some shit we need to discuss."

"Discuss?" Ian asked when they broke apart. "You wanna talk? Talkin' was kinda the last thing I wanted to do."

"Yeah, well, you're gonna have to keep your dick in your pants for a little while longer there, Big Red," Mickey said affectionately as he jerked his head towards the bench, motioning for Ian to follow.

Ian followed him to the bench as he practically pouted.

Mickey grabbed a fresh beer from his backpack and pulled out his butterfly knife to puncture the can. He shotgunned half the beer in three long gulps before handing it over to Ian, who accepted it eagerly. He watched as Ian guzzled the second half, his Adam's apple bobbing and excess beer dribbling down his chin. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away, finding the whole thing sexy. He needed to get a fucking grip if he wanted to get his point across.

"Look," he began, trying to maintain some control over the situation. "You can't go up to my fuckin' sister, alright? How am I s'posed to explain to her why a goddamn Gallagher, of all people, keeps askin' about me?"

"I didn't know how else to reach you," Ian said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I couldn't just walk up to your house and knock on the door, not with your dad around."

"You weren't supposed to reach me at all," Mickey retorted, giving him a pointed look.

Ian stared back at him, his green eyes shining in the moonlight. "I needed to know you were okay," he said, his voice soft and unsteady.

Mickey kept his eyes locked on Ian's before tearing them away. He turned and reached into his pack to retrieve another beer for himself before handing one to Ian.

"So, you kept my watch?" Ian asked after a small stretch of silence. "I guess that means you missed me as much as I missed you then, huh?" He quirked an eyebrow as he took a sip of his beer.

"Jesus Christ, do you want your fuckin' watch back?"

"No, keep it. It looks good on you," Ian said with a smirk, his lips still pressed against his beer can.

Mickey eyed him before eventually smirking himself. "Dick." He took a sip of his beer, his eyes falling to Ian's bloody hand. "Fuck, Ian. What the hell happened to your hand? You're bleeding."

"Oh," Ian said, having forgotten about that. "I ran into Frank earlier. You think my hand is bad, you should see his face."

"Good." Mickey snorted. "Asshole deserved it."

Ian hummed and placed his can down before moving to straddle him. He grabbed Mickey's beer and placed it down next to his. "I don't wanna talk anymore."

"Well, we need to," Mickey said as Ian leaned in and began peppering warm, lingering kisses along his jaw. He placed his hands on Ian's thighs, trying to keep his cool. "You can't seek me out whenever you feel like it, and this can't keep… Can't keep happening. We can't just meet up like this. If… fuck," he stopped and inhaled sharply when Ian nipped delicately at his throat. "If someone found out about us, we would… shit—"

"What was that?" Ian asked, pulling back and tilting his head mockingly. "I think you're tryin' to string words together, but I'm not sure."

"I fuckin' hate you, you know that?"

"No, you don't."

"No," Mickey murmured as he slid his hands from Ian's thighs up to his waist under his coat and finding the skin under his shirt. "I don't."

Ian's breath hitched as he stared at him, their intense gazes holding as neither of them said anything. He shivered then, not knowing if it was from the cold or the intensity in Mickey's eyes. "So, what are we gonna do here, Mick?"

"I don't know."

"We need to do something," Ian said. "I don't wanna be without you."

"You have to be."

"I can't."

"You lived without me for seventeen years," Mickey said. "I'm pretty sure you'll be able to manage."

"I wasn't really livin' back then."

Mickey stared back at him before shaking his head and laughing. "Where do you come up with this shit?"

Ian climbed off his lap, not in the mood to be laughed at. "Fuck you, Mickey."

Mickey clicked his tongue. "Hey, look, come on."

"This isn't a fuckin' joke to me," Ian spat, spinning to face him.

"Does it look like I'm fuckin' laughing?"

"Yeah!" Ian exclaimed. "It does!"

Mickey sucked his teeth. "Come on, man."

"Are you serious right now? You want us to walk away from each other?" Ian bellowed. "You're okay with not bein' in each other's lives? 'Cause I gotta tell you, these past three days have fuckin' sucked for me, Mickey."

Mickey ran a hand over his hair and averted his eyes to the ground.

"If I walked away from you right now, you'd be fine with that?" Ian finished after a few beats.

"Fuck, Ian, I'm not fine with any of this, alright?" Mickey exclaimed as he stood. "I'm not fuckin' fine! I wish I could go back and take that whole night back. I wish I never met your ass. Do you think I like feelin' like this? You think I like not havin' any control over anything? No! You fuckin' wrecked me, Gallagher, and now I can't sleep or eat or… fuck!" He stopped his rant, his chest heaving.

Ian watched as Mickey hung his head and thumbed at his lower lip, his jaw shifting back and forth a little as he fought through his emotions.

"I dunno what the fuck to do," Mickey continued, his voice unsteady. "If I'm with you, I'll have to live in fuckin' fear every day, that my dad or brothers will find out about us, and he will kill me himself, Ian. He'll kill me, and then he'll kill you."

Ian nodded curtly and looked down at his shoes. "I know."

Mickey turned to Ian and eyed him, his demeanor softening completely. "But if I'm not with you…" his voice trailed off. He watched as Ian slowly lifted his head to look at him. "Fuck," he said breathlessly against his better judgment, his voice quivering. "If I'm not with you…"

"Hey," Ian interjected, grabbing Mickey's hand and closing the gap between them. "We don't have to decide anything tonight, okay?"

Mickey nodded and closed his eyes with a soft exhale as Ian pulled him in for a hug.

Ian cradled the back of Mickey's head and pressed a kiss against his hair.

Neither of them knew what tomorrow would bring. They knew that a future together was likely impossible. For the time being, though, they both took comfort in the fact that the other seemed to feel the same way.