Mickey was woken up a few hours later by a squirming Ian.
"Stop moving." Mickey's voice was rough from sleep.
"Gotta potty." Mickey sighed and released Ian from his grasp.
The red-head quckily scrambled into the bathroom. Mickey stayed where he was. He hoped that Ian would come back and lay with him. It had to be close to supper time, if not far past, but Mickey didn't give a fuck. Sleeping stopped the shitty thoughts of having to leave. He didn't even know where he'd go, if Monica sent him away.
He didn't think Monica was dumb enough to send him back to his dad, but then again he could be wrong.
He distantly heard the toliet flushing. He stayed still and waited to hear Ian's footsteps as he re-entered the room.
The footsteps didn't come. Mickey still layed on the bed, he stayed there. Maybe Ian just needed a drink. Mickey shrugged and tried to get comfortable again; that was damn near imposible without Ian next to him.
It had to have been twenty minutes that Mickey layed there, uncomfortable and alone in complete silence.
If he strained his ears a bit he could hear-far away-slurs. Frank was still there.
He swallowed hard as he waited.
Five more mintues; no Ian.
Ten more; no Ian.
Finally Mickey heard Ian's feet on the floor. He sounded rushed.
The younger boy jumped onto the bed next to Mickey.
"Mick!" Ian was yelling, but he didn't sound completley happy.
Mickey turned his head toward the red-head, his eyes were still closed.
"What?" Mickey wanted to pull Ian down into his arms and just go back to sleep.
"We leaving." Mickey's eyes opened instantly. Ian's face was flushed, his nose bright red, Mickey could see the wet trails on Ian's cheeks. Ian was crying and looked so sad, but Mickey could see a hint of-what looked like happiness underneath it all.
"What?" Mickey didn't want to go now, He wanted more time with Ian.
Mickey found out the house that he had thought was Monica's was actually a cousin of her's house, her cousin had moved outta Chicago a few years ago, but never sold the house. Her cousin had said she could stay there as long as she wanted.
The real Gallagher home was pretty small. The front door had a strange pattern on it; Mickey didn't like it.
They had packed some of their clothes as well as a few toys and other odds and ends. Monica had said they would come back for the rest the next day, seeing as it was already eight at night.
Upon entering the Gallagher house, Mickey was instantly assulted by the smell of stale cigarettes, weed and old cheap booze. It smelled like-home. No, that place wasn't Mickey's home, his home was with Ian.
There were four bedrooms upstairs. Ian and Lip each had their own. Monica and Frank had their room. And there was the "spare bedroom" that didn't have a bed. Mickey assumed he would be sleeping on the floor; the cold hard floor all alone.
He was wrong.
Ian pulled him into his room.
"You sleep wifh me." Mickey just nodded and set the small bag, with his clothes and the picture Ian had drawn of them together inside it, down.
Mickey was going to ask Ian if he was sleeping on the floor in his room or if he got to share the bed, but before he could Monica yelled up the stairs.
"Come eat boys, then it's bedtime." Mickey didn't feel right, maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the fact that he was going to have to leave soon, maybe it was the new surroundings, maybe it was the way Monica was treating him like-her son.
They ate semi-burnt mac 'n cheese for dinner. There was barely enough, there wouldn't have been if Frank had actually eaten and not just had a liquid meal; but Mickey was glad he didn't because he was hungry.
They changed into their pajamas, or in Mickey's case he put on sweat pants instead of his jeans.
They brushed their teeth, and pissed.
Mickey followed Ian into the bedroom.
Ian climbed up into the bed, it was a bit higher then the one at the other house.
Mickey began to lye down on the floor, Ian grabbed his arm.
"No, silly. You sleep wifh me." Mickey tried to hide his smirk.
He climbed up next to Ian and crawled over him, Mickey had to sleep by the wall after all.
Instantly arms were around Mickey, but his arms were around the red-head just as fast so it wasn't awkward or anything.
Legs became twisted together.
Mickey layed his head onto of Ian's, he somehow always ended up higher on the bed than Ian.
"Night Mick."
"G'night Ian." Mickey was on the cusp of conciousness when he heard it.
"I love you Mickey." The words were whispered; they brought tears to Mickey's eyes.
That terrified him, why the fuck should words case him to cry?
Isn't that something that happened to fags?
Mickey tried to fall asleep, it was difficult with Ian's words echoing inside his head.
He layed there listening to those four words on re-play in his head.
After what seemed like an hour, despite the fact that it had only been maybe five minutes, Mickey could hear Ian snorning.
"Ian," He whispered, no response, "Ian, I love you too."
He fell asleep for the second time in less than five hours with Ian in his arms.
Note To Readers- Please, oh please let me know what you thought. I litterally wrote this in less than a half an hour. It wrote itself, it's a little shorter than the others but not by much, and the content make the "shortness" so worth it. -J.J.(Jimmy, Jimmy James, James, Jimmy J, J James, Jimmy J, Alayna)