Two days later, Ian casually made his way down the walkway towards school. He had his head down with his eyes focused on his boots, minding his own business. The earbuds blasting heavy metal in his ears drowned out the noises and commotion around him.

It caught him completely off guard when a tattooed hand reached out from behind a thick oak tree and grabbed his forearm, tugging him roughly.

"What the fuck?" he cursed, stumbling backward and barely catching himself without falling. He tore a bud from his ear and stared incredulously at Mickey, who was smirking at him around his cigarette and leaning casually against the tree.

They were out of view from the rest of the student body mingling around them.

"Mickey? The hell are you doin' here?"

Mickey shrugged coolly as he looked Ian over. "Wanted to see ya."

"You wanted to see me?" Ian asked, looking equally frustrated and amused. "I've been waitin' for your ass to show up for the past two days, and you show up now when I have to get to class? Nice timing, dick."

"You can't spare ten fuckin' minutes?" Mickey asked, arching a brow and dragging on his cigarette.

Ian stared at him before a smile eventually tugged at his lips. "Only ten minutes?" he asked, flirtily looking Mickey over. "I think I can spare twenty."

Mickey smirked, his eyes slowly racking over Ian's body again. "The fuck are we waitin' for?" he asked, jerking his head toward the deserted football field and bleachers.

Ian grinned as he watched Mickey turn and head off. He dropped his eyes to Mickey's ass before following him, thinking trigonometry could wait.

As soon as they crouched their way under the bleachers and found a secluded spot far underneath and away from watchful eyes, Mickey spun around and pushed at Ian's chest, pressing him back against a pole.

Ian grunted when the air was knocked out of him. As he was sucking in more air and trying to gather his wits, Mickey leaned in and kissed him hard, stealing whatever breath he had left in him.

"Fuck," Mickey exhaled when he pulled back. He dropped his hands between them and worked on undoing Ian's belt buckle. "You look so fuckin' hot in these fatigues, man."

Ian smiled and angled his head to the side, giving Mickey more room to kiss and nip his neck. He was suddenly glad he'd worn his army fatigues to school instead of changing afterward for ROTC like he usually did. Mickey seemed even more riled up than usual; he'd have to wear his fatigues around him more often. He was about to say something sarcastic, not wanting to miss an opportunity to tease him, but his words got lost in a groan when Mickey shoved a hand down his pants to grip his dick.

"Want you on me," Mickey said against the crook of Ian's neck as he stroked him. "Get the fuck on me."

Ian wasn't in a joking mood anymore. "Get these fuckin' pants off then," he gasped as he reached down and finished pushing his own pants down.

Mickey took a step back, locking his desire-laden eyes with Ian's as he undid his pants and pushed them down to his ankles. He turned and braced himself against the poles of the bleachers.

Ian stepped up behind Mickey and pressed against him, eliciting a groan from Mickey when his dick rubbed against his bare ass. He slid his hands down Mickey's sides and around his hips, creating a V as he moved his hands down, but he didn't touch Mickey's cock, teasing him. "Did you miss me?" he asked huskily against his ear.

"Yeah, man," Mickey all but gasped as Ian slowly raked his nails up and down his bare thighs, still refusing to touch his cock.

"Say it," Ian demanded in Mickey's ear, his voice low and husky. "Say you missed me."

"I fuckin' missed you," Mickey spat. "Now get on me."

Ian smiled as he reached down and grabbed his dick, stroking it to full hardness.

"In my coat, right pocket," Mickey rasped, hanging his head and bracing himself for whatever Ian was about to give him.

Ian reached into Mickey's coat pocket and retrieved the sleeve of condoms and lube. "You came prepared, huh?"

"Just shut the fuck up and get this show on the road."

"I love it when you beg."

"Fuck you, asshole, let's go."

"So grumpy when you don't get the dick," Ian murmured.

Mickey shot him an unamused look over his shoulder.

Ian's chest shook with silent laughter as he removed a condom and rolled it on. He clumsily opened the packet of lube and squirted a liberal amount on his dick. He used two of his slick fingers and eased them into Mickey, scissoring them to loosen him up. He made hasty work of it, eager to get inside that tight ass. Two days without Mickey's ass had been two days too long. He gripped Mickey's left hip and gripped his cock with his other hand, slowly easing into him.

"Jesus," he moaned as he pressed his face into the hood of Mickey's coat. "Don't ever make me go two days without this ass again, I swear to god, Mickey."

Mickey reached behind him and grabbed Ian's left hip, digging his fingers into Ian's flesh as he adjusted to his cock. "Fuck, Gallagher."

Ian reached his right arm around and wrapped it around Mickey's chest, holding Mickey back against him. He pressed a kiss beneath Mickey's ear as he pulled out of him. "Feel good?" he murmured when he pushed back in, setting a slow pace. His other hand still held onto Mickey's hip, holding Mickey completely against him, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

"Fuck, yeah, feels good," Mickey moaned. His left hand was still gripping Ian's hip, and he reached his right hand up and grabbed the back of Ian's head. He turned his face over his shoulder and met Ian's lips in a searing kiss as Ian continued easing in and out of him at an unhurried, steady pace.

Ian smiled against Mickey's mouth as he removed his arm from around his chest and reached down to stroke Mickey's cock. He began pumping his hand in time with his thrusts. He tangled his tongue with Mickey's, swallowing his moans.

"Ian," Mickey moaned, pulling his mouth away from Ian's. His hand still gripped Ian's head, tugging harshly at his hair, but Ian didn't seem to mind.

Ian quickened his thrusts and strokes, eager to bring them both over the edge. "I'll never get enough of you, you hear me?" he muttered against Mickey's neck.

Mickey gripped Ian's head and hip harder as he braced himself for his orgasm.

"You're it for me, Mickey," Ian mumbled breathlessly as he quickened his thrusts.

Mickey groaned as a reply and turned his head to meet Ian's lips in another passionate kiss as their bodies reeled from their nearing orgasms.

Ian was the first to come. He gasped inside Mickey's mouth and dug his fingers hard into Mickey's hip as he trembled from the force of it.

Mickey pulled away from the kiss with a bite to Ian's bottom lip as he groaned. His orgasm hit him full-force, and he spilled into Ian's hand.

Ian stroked him a few more times, milking him until he whimpered. He removed his hand from Mickey's dick and wrapped his arm around his chest again, holding Mickey back against him. He buried his face in Mickey's shoulder, not wanting to let go yet.

Mickey was the first to pull away after several moments once they'd caught their breaths. "Alright, you need to get your ass to class."

"Class? What's that?" Ian teased with narrowed eyes and a playful tilt of his head. "You really expect me to form coherent thoughts after all that? Your ass makes me stupid, Milkovich."

Mickey smirked as he pulled his pants up and refastened his belt. "You need to get those grades up. I'm part of the reason they dropped, to begin with."

Ian watched him for a few beats before stepping forward and leaning down to kiss him sweetly on the mouth. When he pulled away, Mickey appeared slightly dazed and a bit surprised.

"The hell was that for?"

"For showin' me you care, even when you don't mean to," Ian said with a smirk as he redid his pants.

"Come on, man," Mickey said, rubbing a thumb over his lower lip, his eyes downcast. "You know I fuckin' care."

Ian smiled and tugged Mickey to him by the front of his coat. "I know you do," he murmured against his lips. "Meet me tonight after school, the van at six?"

"I'll be there."

"Better be," Ian said with another quick peck on the lips before placing his earbuds back in, shooting Mickey another flirty smile, and finally turning to head out from under the bleachers.

Mickey watched after him until he disappeared from view. He ran a hand over his face and let out a shaky exhale. "Fuckin' Gallagher," he muttered under his breath before heading off in the opposite direction Ian had gone.

He didn't realize the smile was still lingering at the corners of his mouth until he was halfway home.

"Hey, Ian Gallagher."

Ian's head shot up when he heard the singsong voice. He turned to find Mandy Milkovich standing behind him. For a brief, unreasonable second, he wondered if she could smell her brother's scent on him. He sure as hell could still smell Mickey on him. He could still feel the areas of his skin tingling where Mickey had touched him, grabbed him, kissed him…

"Fuck, are you okay?" Mandy asked, her voice breaking him from his scandalous thoughts about her brother. "You look a little pale."

"Uh, yeah," Ian stammered. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She smiled flirtatiously and handed him her backpack. "Walk me to class?"

"Uh," Ian said, glancing up and down the hall before looking back at her. He knew what he had to do. "I'm sorry, Mandy. I can't today."

Mandy retracted her backpack with a frown. "Okay," she said. "Did I say or do something wrong?"

Ian ran a hand over his head and sighed. "No, you didn't say or do anything wrong. You're perfect."

"So, what's the problem?" she asked.

Ian decided to lay it all out; there was no use in beating around the bush. Literally, in that case. "I'm gay."

"Yeah, I know," she said after a beat with her lip quirked. "My brother already told me."

Ian was pretty sure his eyes were popping out of his skull. "He… He did? Mickey told you I'm gay? He talked to you about me?"

Mandy shrugged. "Yeah, he was warning me against hitting on you, said I was barking up the wrong tree and not to waste my time."

Ian took the information in, trying hard not to smile. He knew Mickey's warning to Mandy meant much more than him trying to protect his little sister. He had been, in his own fucked-up way, discreetly claiming what was his.

"So," Mandy continued with a playful arch of her eyebrow. "There's no chance for a quickie or anything then, huh? Maybe I can take a stab at turning you straight? You never know."

"Trust me, never gonna happen," he said with a laugh, thinking to himself that having his dick in her brother's ass an hour before cemented that fact, but she didn't need to know any of that.

"That sucks." Mandy smirked as they started walking towards their next class together. "Word of advice, though, if you're ever around my brother again, don't mention the whole gay thing unless you want your ass kicked. Mickey hates that shit."

"Got it," Ian said before hanging his head and grinning.

Later that day, Mickey walked into the Milkovich house, immediately glancing towards the couch to find his Pops sleeping with his ass crack out. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed straight for his room.

For the past two weeks, he'd managed to stay on his father's good side; not that his father had a good side, but he'd avoided any conflict with him. When his father was home, which was rare considering he practically lived at the Alibi, Mickey spent most of his time in his room, trying to avoid his dad at all costs, and it seemed to work. On the rare occasion when he was face-to-face with the prick, his Pops would grunt something incoherent under his breath and keep moving.

He couldn't believe that everything seemed squared away. All that buildup in his head, and all he'd received was a bad beating. He'd received much worse in the past for lesser offenses.

Just as he closed the door and flung himself back on the bed, the door reopened, and Iggy poked his head inside. "Sup, motherfucker."

"Where the fuck have you been?" Mickey asked, sitting up. It was the first time he was seeing his brother since getting back, which wasn't unusual. Iggy, along with his other brothers, had the habit of disappearing for weeks at a time without a word.

"I've been around," Iggy answered, avoiding giving details as usual as he walked farther into the room. "Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck happened? You just up and disappeared with that fuckin' Gallagher kid?"

Mickey sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. "I ain't talkin' about that with you. It's done."

"Well, you're lucky your ass ain't six feet under right about now," Iggy said before walking over to Mickey's dresser and opening the top drawer. "Dad flipped his shit when he found out you ran off with the homo. I never saw him so pissed in my life."

"Yeah well, it's over, so fuckin' drop it," Mickey said as he watched his brother rummage through his drawer. "The fuck are you lookin' for?"

"The Ruger, motherfucker," Iggy answered. "I wouldn't be so sure it's over. You know Pops. I'm sure he'll think of somethin' to get back at you. He's just bidin' his time. You don't just get away with what you did. That was some hardcore shit, bro, even for you."

"Alright, take the fuckin' Ruger and get the fuck out," Mickey snapped, even though he couldn't help the uneasiness that settled in the pit of his stomach at his brother's words.

Iggy grabbed what he came for and started for the door. He halted and turned back to eye Mickey, his demeanor softening a bit. "Why did you help the kid?" he asked. "You knew it was a dumbass move."

Mickey knew he could never tell his brother the real reason. "Don't worry about it. It's done."

"Yeah, well," Iggy said, tucking the gun into the back of his pants. "Whatever the reason, I hope it was fuckin' worth it."

Mickey stared at the spot where his brother had been standing in long after he left.

Ian was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the van with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Mickey was late, but that was nothing new. Mickey was usually the one to call the shots, and Ian didn't mind so much, as long as he got to be around him.

Just as he was about to doze off, exhausted from a full day of school, an amazing morning fuck, and ROTC, the door to the van slid open, and Mickey hopped inside, breathless and looking rough around the edges.

"About fuckin' time," Ian griped.

Before Ian could say more, Mickey silenced him by ripping the cigarette from Ian's mouth and leaning down to kiss him hard.

Ian groaned and dug the fingers of his right hand in Mickey's hair.

When Mickey eventually pulled away, tugging roughly on Ian's bottom lip as he went, he sat back, stubbed the cigarette out, and made quick work of stripping off his coat. "Don't wanna talk right now. Take off your pants. Want that cock."

Ian didn't argue as he sat up and hastily removed his coat before working on his jeans. As he was shifting to get up on his knees, Mickey pinned him back down with a hand to the chest.

"No," Mickey breathed. "I wanna ride you."

Ian stared up at him, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nodded. Mickey had never ridden him before, but he wasn't about to argue.

Once they were naked except for their shirts, Mickey made quick work of rolling a condom on Ian's dick. He then squirted lube into his hand and eagerly slicked Ian's dick up before pushing a finger inside his ass, loosening himself. He was still bristling from his conversation with Iggy, and all he wanted right then was for Ian to be balls-deep inside him. He had every intention of riding that cock long and hard. He had a sudden and desperate need to be in control of at least something in his life.

He straddled and hovered over Ian. He placed one hand on Ian's chest, bracing himself. He locked eyes with Ian as he reached behind himself and grabbed Ian's hard cock. It took a little work, and it was more awkward than he had been expecting, but he finally positioned the head of Ian's dick against his hole, and he slowly eased down against it. He gasped at the intrusion and took his time wiggling and adjusting until Ian was fully inside him.

"Fuck, Mickey," Ian gasped, digging his fingers into the flesh of Mickey's hips.

Mickey leaned forward, bracing his hands against Ian's chest as he adjusted to the feeling of Ian fully inside of him at the new un-fucking-believable position.

"You okay?" Ian breathed.

"Yeah, I'm good," Mickey sighed, curling his fingers into Ian's chest and leaving marks. "Feels so good like this. Fuck, man, you're perfect."

"You can, uh, you can move whenever you want," Ian choked, looking as if he was falling apart at the seams as Mickey clenched around him.

Mickey nodded and slowly rocked forward, dragging a groan out of Ian. He locked eyes with him as he set a slow and steady pace, with Ian's hands on his hips guiding him.

"Shit, Mickey," Ian choked. "Keep goin', just like that. You feel so fuckin' good." He reached up and grabbed Mickey behind the neck, pulling him forward and crushing their lips together as Mickey continued riding him at his own pace. He had no intention of hurrying him. He was giving Mickey complete control, and he was loving every fucking second of it.

Mickey pulled back from the kiss and pressed his forehead to Ian's. He framed his arms around Ian's head and dug his fingers in the red hair he loved so fucking much. He bit his lip and moaned when Ian's soft lips found his neck. He placed his mouth next to Ian's ear, wanting so desperately to say the words.

His entire body and mind were reeling from the sheer intensity of it all; the feeling of being so connected to Ian in that new way, the intense waves of pleasure rippling through his body as his orgasm built, the swell of emotion that gripped his chest. He'd never felt that way about anyone, had never even imagined he could feel that way about anyone, and he wanted nothing more than to tell Ian that, even if it could all end up being a big fucking mistake.

He refused to let it all be for nothing.

He pulled back so he could look into Ian's eyes. He slowed his motions as their eyes locked. He licked his lips, his heart hammering in his chest. "Ian, I… fuck."

Ian stared up at him with wide eyes, sweaty, panting, and flushed beneath him as he waited.

Mickey smiled softly, the fear and tension leaving his body. He suddenly wasn't so afraid to say the words. He reached up and swiped his thumb tenderly across Ian's sweaty cheek. "Fuck… Ian… I lo-"

Just then, the door to the van slid open.