Mickey pulled the Milkovich beater to a stop in front of the Gallagher house and cut the engine. He snuck a glance at Ian, who was sleeping against the passenger door. Ian hadn't said one word to him on the way home from the Fairy Tail, and he'd passed out somewhere along the way.
He sighed, ran a hand over his face, and rubbed his mouth before reaching over to shake Ian's shoulder gently. "Hey, Gallagher," he said. "Time to wake up, man."
Ian muttered unintelligibly but didn't lift his head from the cold window.
Mickey smiled. "What's that, mumbles?"
Ian hummed but didn't move.
"Ian," Mickey said before reaching over and rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against Ian's cheek. "C'mon, man, I gotta get your ass in the house. It's cold out here, and it's late."
"Can't walk."
"Yes, you most certainly can walk," Mickey retorted, his brows shooting up. "It's called use your fuckin' legs."
"Nope," Ian mumbled. "Can't."
Mickey rested his head against the headrest of his seat and rolled his eyes. "Am I gonna have to carry your gangly tweaked-out ass into the goddamn house?"
"Looks like it."
"Jesus Christ," Mickey groused as he undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. He instantly slipped, almost falling on his ass. It had snowed earlier that day, and there was 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, Ian?" Mickey griped as he struggled and somehow got Ian out of the car in one piece. When he realized Ian would only give him trouble and wouldn't walk on his own, he hooked one of Ian's arms around his neck, bent over, and hoisted Ian over his shoulder.
He knew that 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 Raggedy Ann doll) would only 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 slippery porch steps and knocked on the door, all the while grumbling obscenities under his breath.
"Where are we?" Ian muttered behind his back.
"I'm in hell right now, but you're at home."
"I like your butt," Ian mumbled in his inebriated state, patting Mickey's ass that was in his face.
Mickey didn't know what to say to that, so he hoisted Ian higher on his shoulder and gnawed on his lower lip.
The door opened, and someone Mickey could only assume was Ian's older sister, Fiona, greeted him.
"Uh, yeah," he began, feeling awkward under Fiona's perplexed scrutiny as she glanced 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 said under her breath. "What the hell happened? Where was he?"
"He's been workin' at some sleazy club over in Boystown," Mickey explained as Fiona ushered them in from the cold. "I went there tonight to talk to him, found him dancin' on some douchebag's lap."
"Oh, Jesus," Fiona said, cupping a hand over her forehead. "Well, shit, I guess I'll have to deal with him in the morning," she continued. "His room's upstairs. Make a right; it's at the end of the hall. You can't miss it."
Mickey nodded curtly before starting the daunting task of carrying Ian's deadweight ass up the stairs. After taking more time than he would have liked, and after nearly stumbling backward a few times and killing both Ian and himself, he made it to the bedroom and assumed the empty bed by the window was Ian's.
He glanced towards the crib in the corner where a small child stood and watched him with curious eyes. Mickey wanted to ask the kid what the fuck he was looking at, but he refrained, knowing Ian wouldn't appreciate him cussing out his toddler brother.
He bent over and allowed Ian to fall carefully onto the mattress. He stared down at Ian for a few beats, his heart tightening in his chest as he thought about where he'd found him that night. Mickey wanted nothing more than to wash the shitty glitter and eyeliner off Ian's face; he ached to rid Ian of anything having to do with that shithole club.
Knowing it was best to leave and not stew in his complicated emotions, he removed Ian's shoes, swung his legs onto the mattress, and made sure he tucked the pillow just right under Ian's head. He turned to leave, but a broken voice stopped him from taking another step.
"Don't."
Mickey exhaled and took in that one word before turning to find Ian watching him, the dim light from the hallway illuminating his pleading face and hooded eyes. He snuck a 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, feeling torn. A part of him knew he needed to get the fuck out of that house before he complicated things even more. The bigger part of him wanted to hop in that bed with Ian and say fuck everyone and everything else.
"Don't go."
"I can't stay here with you, Ian," Mickey muttered miserably. "You fuckin' know I can't."
"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 his lower lip, knowing it should piss him off that Ian's family knew his secret, but he wasn't upset; how could he stay mad at Ian while he was looking at him like that?
"Yeah, okay," he eventually relented before walking 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. After crawling in, they laid on their sides, facing each other.
Ian pulled the blanket up and around them. He pressed his face against Mickey's chest, inhaling him. "Missed you, Mick," he whispered.
Mickey dug his fingers in 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 a hand over his back, relishing the feeling of having Ian in his arms again.
"Missed you too," he whispered back, his lips pressed against 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 that spot. He felt soft, warm kisses brushing across his cheeks, chin, and nose. He blinked his eyes open, his breath catching in his throat.
"You're here," Ian murmured before brushing a kiss against Mickey's forehead. "In my bed."
"Yeah, I'm here," Mickey said, once everything came flooding back to his hazy 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.
"Nuh-uh, don't think you can fuckin' cute your way outta this. That shit don't work on me," Mickey lied as he reached up and dug his fingers in Ian's hair. "What the hell were you thinkin', Ian? The fuckin' Fairy Tail? Shakin' your ass for money? Really, asshole?"
Ian lifted his head and sighed. "I know. It was a stupid idea, alright?"
"You fuckin' think?"
"I had to do something," Ian muttered. "I needed to take my mind off shit."
"Grinding on cocks, garglin' old wrinkly balls, and doing drugs?" Mickey retorted. "That was your way of takin' your mind off shit, huh?"
Ian rolled his eyes. "I didn't gargle old man balls, Mickey."
"Not my fuckin' point."
Ian let out an exasperated sigh, not knowing what else to say.
After glancing over to find that the bunk bed was empty and hearing the muffled voices drifting up from the kitchen, Mickey reached up and stroked his thumb along Ian's jaw, unable to stop touching him. After a few beats, he said, "I was sick to my stomach last night when I saw you dancin' on that dude's lap," he admitted, his voice husky, not daring to look into Ian's eyes. "I fuckin' hated it. Hated seein' that asshole's hands all over you."
"You were jealous, huh?"
"C'mon, man, don't be a dick about this."
Ian watched Mickey for a few beats before dipping his head and kissing him softly on the mouth. "You're the only one I want, Mickey," he said before moving to straddle him. "Don't you get 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 him again, that time with more heat and intent.
When they broke apart, breathless and hard, Mickey said, "Indecisive, huh? I'm here now, ain't I?"
"Yeah, for now," Ian said, his eyes dropping to Mickey's lips.
Mickey hesitated before saying, "I ain't goin' anywhere."
"You're not?"
"No," Mickey said, his eyes searching Ian's face. "'Sides, it was never about bein' indecisive."
"It wasn't?"
"Nah, I knew what I wanted." Mickey swallowed visibly before adding, "Always knew."
Ian smiled down at him before leaning in for another kiss. "I want you," he mumbled against Mickey's mouth as he slid against him, their hands still pinned to the mattress.
Mickey licked into Ian's mouth, causing them to grin into the kiss, both feeling happier and more relaxed at that moment than they had in weeks. "Oh, you want me, huh?"
"So fuckin' much," Ian said before gasping as the kiss grew hungry.
Mickey grabbed Ian's ass, showing Ian how much he wanted him, too.
Ian pulled back and smiled gently at Mickey before sliding down the length of Mickey's body and disappearing under the blanket with a playful glint in his eyes.
"Ian," Mickey chastised, knowing they had more to talk about, but he suddenly found himself unable to get the words out as Ian undid his pants while hidden beneath the covers. "The fuck are you doing?"
Once Ian had Mickey's dick out and was stroking it, Mickey choked back a moan and glanced apprehensively towards the open door, then over at the sleeping toddler in the crib. He looked back down at the covered, bobbing head. "What if someone walks in? We can't… fuck. We can't do this."
Ian hummed 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 blanket to grab Ian's hair. "Mm, feels so fuckin' good," he murmured as Ian's wet mouth engulfed him. "Fuckin' amazing mouth."
Ian answered by releasing Mickey's cock with a soft pop of his lips and blowing on the sensitive head before sucking him back down as far as he could and deepthroating him, gagging but soldiering on.
"Suck it, Ian, so fuckin' good," Mickey groaned, grabbing Ian's hair with both hands and guiding him. He fucked up into Ian's eager mouth, already close. "Mm, fuck yeah. Just like that. Keep doin' that. Fuck. Love that fuckin' mouth."
Ian moaned and picked up the pace, sucking Mickey's cock with renewed vigor.
"Fuck, Ian," Mickey breathed after a minute. "You're gonna make me fuckin' come."
"What the fuck, Ian?"
The bobbing head under the blanket stilled, and Mickey lifted his head from the pillow to stare at Lip, who was standing in the doorway, a look of pure disgust on his face.
"Don't you know how to fuckin' knock?" Mickey roared.
"Knock?" Lip bellowed. "The door was wide fuckin' open!"
"Get the fuck out!"
"I don't gotta leave. This is my goddamn room!"
Ian popped out from under the blanket and fixed his brother with a pointed glare before wiping his mouth. "Well, it's my room too, so if I wanna blow someone, I should be able to. Get the fuck out so I can finish him off!"
"What the fuck, Ian!" Lip exclaimed before turning and slamming the door shut behind him.
Ian and Mickey glanced at each other before they burst out laughing.
"I love messin' with him," Ian said with a grin.
"Well, if he didn't know about us before, he knows now," Mickey grumbled, knowing that Lip was just one more person he'd have to worry about holding something over his head.
Suddenly, the toddler's head popped up over the side of the crib.
Mickey stared back at the kid disdainfully before resting his head back with a groan and rubbing a hand over his face.
"I guess we'll have to wait to finish this some other ti—" Before he could get the rest of his sentence out, Ian was back under the blanket, sucking him down despite their new audience, "—or we can keep going. That's cool, too."
After Mickey came down Ian's throat and chastised Ian for getting glitter on his dick, they let their grumbling stomachs and the alluring scent of bacon get the best of them. 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 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.
"Mornin'," Fiona said to cut the tension, sounding unsure as she glanced back and forth between them.
Lip stabbed 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 made shit even more awkward by asking, "Are the two of you boyfriends?"
"Carl," Fiona reprimanded. "Don't start."
"What?" Carl asked with a shrug. "He was sleepin' in Ian's bed. His ass was against his 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 tellin' me about?"
Ian reached for a pancake with his fork and smiled gently. "Yeah, it is, Debs. This is Mickey."
Lip scraped his chair back, stood, and left the house without a word, leaving everyone staring after him.
"What crawled up his ass and died?" Carl asked.
"Just eat your breakfast," Fiona answered before glancing back at Ian and Mickey curiously.
Mickey sat inert in his chair, not knowing what to do, what to say, or how to act. Knowing that Ian's family knew about him was unsettling, to say the fucking least. He relaxed a bit 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 clear in her big brown eyes. "First off, I guess I'll start by askin' if you're okay?"
Ian averted his eyes to the table and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm good."
"So, you were workin' at a goddamn go-go club?" she asked. "How does that even work? You're seventeen, for fuck's sake."
"Yeah," Ian answered, hesitant. "I figured a way around that."
Fiona exhaled and averted her eyes to Mickey, who was watching Ian. If she didn't know any better, she would say the kid 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 Ian for a few beats longer before sighing and leaning down to kiss him on 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 to find Mickey leaning against the archway into the kitchen, his eyes trailing lasciviously down Ian's body.
"So, what about you, Gallagher?" Mickey questioned. "You goin' to school today?"
"I dunno, why?" Ian asked with a smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. "You got a better idea of how I should spend my day?"
"Yeah, I do," Mickey said, eyeing the telltale bulge in Ian's sweatpants. "You can start by gettin' 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 hungry, tongue-tangling kiss.
Ian pulled away shortly after with swollen lips, keeping their foreheads pressed together as he fumbled with Mickey's zipper. "We have the place to ourselves for a few hours," he breathed as he slid his hand inside Mickey's jeans to stroke him. "I can fuck you right here on the couch."
"No, not fuckin' here. Someone can walk in, man," Mickey murmured as he gripped Ian's shoulders and slid his hands up to link his fingers behind Ian's neck. "Let's go up to your room."
Ian leaned in and pressed his mouth against Mickey's ear, feeling Mickey shudder. "I wanna do it right here," he muttered. "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 nibbling on his neck. He reached up and dug his fingers in Ian's hair. "You wanna fuck me on the couch, where anyone can walk in and see us?" he asked, practically stuttering against Ian's ear.
"No one will see us. Everyone's at school, Fiona's at work. It's just you and me," Ian said against Mickey's neck 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 thrust against him as Ian continued nipping, licking, and sucking at his neck. "Fuck, Ian," he panted, feeling himself giving in.
Their breathing became more erratic as Ian slid a leg between Mickey's, giving him something to grind against. In no time, they were gasping and shaking, both insanely turned on.
"Get those pants off," Ian ordered as he stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head, 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 said, taking Mickey's hand and leading him around to the front of the couch. "Kneel on the couch."
Mickey bit his lip and did as he was told, his eyes inadvertently glancing towards the front door. He felt nervous about someone walking in, but the thrill of getting caught was also hot as hell; he couldn't deny that.
He lost all rational train of thought when he felt Ian's large hands kneading his ass. "Shit," he murmured before moaning when Ian blew softly against his hole. He never knew he could enjoy someone playing with his ass so much, but he fucking loved it.
"I'm gonna eat you out. You like it when I do that, don't you? Like my tongue in your ass?" On Mickey's nod, Ian sank 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, eliciting a groan from the other boy. He then licked his way up the other inner thigh before reaching Mickey's balls. He pulled each one into his mouth, sucking and applying just enough pressure to have Mickey moaning. Wanting to move things along, he licked Mickey's perineum before touching his tongue to Mickey's 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 tasted him.
Ian moaned and continued to lap and suck at Mickey's hole as he reached down and stroked his leaking dick, knowing he couldn't stall much longer. He pulled back to spit twice at the puckered rim and groaned before moving back in to lick Mickey open; he couldn't get enough of him.
Mickey panted and gasped as he pressed against Ian's face, reaching back to grab 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 Mickey's hole before pressing his tongue inside. He dipped his tongue in and out, causing Mickey to mewl above him.
"Ian, so good," Mickey whined. "Fuck me with that tongue."
Ian moaned, loving the way Mickey was responding to him. He eventually pulled away, earning a whimper from Mickey, and stood, still stroking his cock and wanting to get in that ass.
"Wait, wanna suck that cock," Mickey breathed as he turned and slid down to sit on the cushion in front of Ian. With his eyes locked on Ian's, he gripped Ian's dick with his right hand and leaned in to touch the tip of his tongue to the leaking slit as he stroked him. "Mmm, taste fuckin' good."
Ian stared down at Mickey, his eyes dark with desire. He reached up with both hands and feathered his fingertips over Mickey's hollowed cheeks before carding his fingers through his hair.
With their eyes still locked, Mickey sucked Ian down as far as he could take him, using his hand to work the rest.
As Mickey sucked his dick with gusto, Ian stroked Mickey's face, ran his fingers through Mickey's hair, and murmured his praises. "You love how I taste, don't you? You love suckin' 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 him, loving the way Ian was responding to him. He pulled away and teased the slit of Ian's cock with a few flicks of his tongue, his hooded eyes never once leaving Ian's.
"You're so fuckin' hot, Mickey," Ian gasped before grabbing Mickey by the elbow to pull him up. The kiss was hungry and sloppy as their tongues tangled through the taste of Ian's precum. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he said when they eventually broke apart, gasping for air.
"So, do it," Mickey breathed, completely riled up.
"You're gonna kill me, but the lube and condoms are upstairs."
"The fuck's with you always forgettin' shit? Go get it!"
"Mm, eager for my cock, huh?" Ian teased. "Such a bossy little bottom…"
"Ian!" Mickey spat. He watched breathlessly as Ian darted up the steps two at a time. In the meantime, he 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 wouldn't 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 placing them at Mickey's hole. He grabbed Mickey's shoulder with one hand while the fingers of his free hand pushed inside him, 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 spot inside him. "Alright, alright, let's go. I'm ready," he snapped. He moaned when he felt the tip of Ian's dick breach him.
Ian pushed in until he was buried to the hilt.
"Missed you," Mickey gasped as he wiggled to adjust. "Fuck, I missed you."
"Missed me or my dick?" Ian asked teasingly, breathlessly, as he started his pace, making deep thrusts. After watching Mickey's perfect ass take his cock a few times, he threw his head back and moaned.
"Fuck," Mickey gasped. "Both."
Ian leaned over Mickey and rested his hands on Mickey's hands that were gripping the back of the couch. He slotted their fingers together 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 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 thrusting as if he hadn't expected Mickey to say anything back.
Minutes later, they came together quicker than either of them wanted to. Afterward, they laid tangled together under the blanket that Ian had pulled down from the back of the couch.
"That was fuckin' good," Mickey breathed.
"What made it even better is you jizzed all over the spot where Lip usually sits," Ian said before grinning when Mickey buried his face in his neck and laughed.
They pressed kisses to each other's foreheads and cheeks before falling asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.
Upon waking up a little while later, Mickey realized he was out of cigarettes, and that was 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 kept some distance between them, even though that didn't stop them from stealing flirty glances and playful smirks at each other.
As they were walking, Ian laughed at something crude Mickey said. He glanced up and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Linda standing outside the Kash and Grab, sweeping the sidewalk in front of the store. "Shit," he muttered, not wanting to see Linda or especially Kash.
Before they could turn and head in the opposite direction, Ian's former boss spotted them.
"Ian?" Linda called out, reaching 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 said, hesitantly walking closer. "I've, uh, been around."
"You disappeared on us."
"Yeah, I know," Ian said, shoving his hands into his pockets and sneaking a glance at Mickey, whose eyes were downcast. "I had some important stuff I had to deal with."
"So, I'm guessing you didn't hear the news?" Linda continued bleakly. "I got an anonymous phone call a couple of weeks ago telling me that my piece-of-shit husband has been screwing underage boys behind my back."
Ian stilled, not knowing how to process that information. He and Kash had always been extra careful; no one knew. He looked at Mickey when realization set in.
Mickey avoided Ian's eyes at all costs as he stared at the ground and rubbed his mouth.
"I didn't know what to believe, so I confronted him about it. He denied it, but the fact that he packed up and disappeared in the middle of the night said otherwise," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. She then sighed and added, "I'm better off, anyway."
"I'm sorry, Linda," Ian said, hoping his guiltiness wasn't too noticeable.
"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, maybe I will. Thanks, Linda."
Linda gave Ian a resigned smile before heading back inside the store, but not before shooing a rat away from the door with the broom.
Ian turned and looked at Mickey, watching as he lifted his eyes.
"The fuck you lookin' at?"
"It was you, wasn't it?" Ian asked. "You called Linda and told her about Kash."
Mickey thumbed his lower lip. After a beat, he said, "Yeah, well, towelhead fuckin' with you meant he fucked with me, so the asshole had to pay."
Ian stared at him incredulously 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 get your cigarettes now so we can go back to my place? Wanna fuck you."
Mickey's face broke into a slow grin. 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 at the Gallagher kitchen table. He'd 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 out the door was Ian's hand on his upper thigh under the table.
"Everyone hungry?" Fiona asked cheerfully from in front of the stove as she stirred the pasta. Debbie was at the counter, helping her prepare dinner, and Carl was sitting in front of Liam, pulling faces and making noises to get the toddler to laugh.
"Starving," Ian said, his hand moving farther up Mickey's thigh.
Mickey sent Ian a warning look before reaching for his pop.
Before Ian could move his hand higher, the back door opened, and Lip walked in, bringing a gust of cold air in with him.
"Hey, dinner smells good. I'm famished," Lip said before bending down to press a kiss atop Liam's head. When he straightened up, his eyes landed on Mickey. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he exclaimed before looking at Fiona. "He's stayin' for dinner now? Am I the only one who sees how fucked up this is?"
"Fuck you, Lip," Ian spat.
"Lip," Fiona admonished, sending her brother a look. "Don't start, okay?"
Lip shot Ian and Mickey the darkest look he could muster before disappearing upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.
"I'm gonna go talk to him," Fiona said, turning away from the stove. She 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. Debs, can you watch dinner?"
"Got it."
Ian sighed and looked at Mickey once Fiona left. "Sorry about that. He's an asshole."
Mickey stood, needing to get out of there. "I'm gonna have a smoke."
"Are you comin' back?" Ian asked, not bothering to hide his desperation.
Mickey resisted the 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. "Chill, Gallagher. I'll be back. I'm just goin' outside."
Once he was outside on the back porch and away from the stuffiness of the kitchen, Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. As much as he wanted to be there with Ian, he didn't know how much more of the Gallaghers and their weird, judgmental looks he could take.
The screen door opened behind him. He'd expected Ian to join him, but it was Carl who moved to stand next to him.
Mickey looked down at the kid, his brow 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 that Gallagher wasn't so bad. He thought about his next move briefly before holding the cigarette out for the younger boy to take.
Carl stared at the cigarette and immediately brightened up as he accepted it. He took a few 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 the cigarette, suddenly wishing the little shit would go away. "You're a nosy little fucker, ain'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 beat, knowing that anything he said could and 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.
"You love him?" Carl asked, looking and sounding sincere.
Mickey gripped the railing in front of him and hung his head. He pushed forward a bit and opened his mouth to answer, but the door opening behind them interrupted him.
"You guys good out here?" Ian asked, his eyes darting between them.
"Yeah, all good," Mickey grumbled.
"Dinner's ready," Ian said. He opened the screen door to allow Carl to sneak in under his arm. He looked at Mickey, his expression soft. "You staying? There's plenty of spaghetti to go around."
"Yeah," Mickey said before tossing the cigarette out into the yard. He 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 stayin'."
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, and keep 'em comin'," he slurred, slapping a handful of crumpled bills on the bar top.
As soon as Frank got the shot glass in his hand, a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, causing the liquor to slosh. He peered back to find Terry Milkovich towering behind him.
"Oh, hey there," he said dejectedly, turning on his stool to get a better look at the other man. As soon as the words left his mouth, a fist connected hard against his nose, causing Frank to tumble 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 had the floors waxed."
Terry leaned over Frank menacingly. "You think you could get over on me? Get outta givin' me my money? Just because my son and your faggot kid got me the money doesn't mean everything's hunky-fuckin'-dory, Gallagher. You still owe me, you piece a shit."
Frank stared up at Terry 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 his coat's wool collar, pulling his fist back to strike again.
"I mean, we're practically family, aren't we?" Frank asked, cringing as he spoke.
"Family?" Terry snapped. "What the fuck are you on about, Gallagher?"
"Well, I figured since our boys are givin' 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, shit," 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 before heaving a sigh of relief when Terry let go of him. He flattened himself on the floor and stared at the ceiling as Terry Milkovich slammed out of the bar in a fit of rage. "Bartender," he said before lifting a finger in the air. "I'm gonna need another shot."
"What are we even doin' 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 fuck where it's warm now."
"Just shut up, will ya? I didn't bring you out here to bang," Mickey said before reaching back and surprising Ian by taking his hand. "Come on and stop arguin' with me for once."
Ian grinned 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 before pulling out a threadbare blanket and spreading it out over the pitcher's mound.
After he laid the blanket 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 him with a perturbed look. "Does your mouth ever stop running?"
"You weren't complainin' about my mouth this morning," Ian quipped as he took the proffered beer.
Mickey kept looking at him as he brought the beer to his mouth and took a sip. He then looked away and burped. He waited for a beat to say, "I wanted to bring you out here to talk. There's some serious shit we need to discuss before any of this shit can go any further."
Ian's shoulders slumped. He nodded, hoping they would've been able to keep living in their happy bubble for a little while longer. "I know."
"Shit," Mickey said as he looked Ian over. "You're fuckin' shivering, man. Maybe this wasn't my brightest idea. Let's go back to your place. We can talk there."
"No," Ian said, leaning into him a bit. "I kinda like bein' out here with you like this."
Mickey smirked before breaking the intense eye contact to glance up at the twinkling night sky. "Yeah, I guess it is kinda romantic as all fuck, ain't it? With the stars bein' all out and shit."
"Spoken like a true poet," Ian teased. It caught him off guard when Mickey leaned in and kissed him gently with a sweet brushing of his lips.
When they broke apart, they tapped foreheads and smiled, their ragged breathing mingling between them in white puffs.
"C'mere," Mickey muttered as he wrapped an arm around Ian's shoulders and pulled him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple. "I'll keep ya warm."
He'd been intent on bringing Ian to the baseball field to talk about the future and circumstances of their relationship, but he realized while sitting 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 home; he figured they deserved at least one.