Ian was glad he no longer had to pretend to be Mandy's boyfriend. In truth, and he had no plans of ever saying it out loud, but she was often a burden that he had to bear, simply because she couldn't deal with him not screwing her. And then she would his him anyway. She wasn't his beard, he was hers. Except she wasn't pretending to not be gay, she was just faking a relationship because she couldn't be bothered saying no to sleazy men.

Ian knew how he was thinking was harsh, but he also turned down guys every day, so he knew exactly how hard it was. He managed. But with Mandy living in London for now, he was free to go to the Milkovich's house and not waste time with her. Ian didn't bother knocking on the door, he knew it was unlocked. Who would be dumb enough to break into the Milkovich house?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" was the friendly greeting Ian got from Mickey's cousin. They were all standing around the gun table, loading their weapons and their pockets with guns. Last to look at him was Mickey.

"Grab a gun, Gallagher, we're moving out. You wanna talk, you gotta walk." He said as he pushed the magazine back into the gun he was holding. Ian stooped down and grabbed the nearest gun and strode over to Mickey.

"The fuck are you doing, Mickey?" he hissed.
"It don't matter, put that fucking gun down, it weirds me out to see it in your hands" Mickey whispered back

"But you said.." started Ian. Mickey looked pointedly at his cousins, his eyebrows raised.

"Look, we're just collecting some cash alright? Should be a quick job, but if I get shot, be ready to nurse my hot ass back to health, alright?" To his cousins he called "Alright jerks, let's move it" As they headed for the van, Mickey turned back and gave Ian a quick peck on the cheek.
"I'll be home soon, Red. Go have a smoke in my room or something".

Ian stood there in shock. He watched as the Milkovich van sped away into the night. The next thing he did was grab the gun he had just picked up, and wiped it clean with the inner lining of his jacket. It'd definitely still have his DNA on it, Ian knew, but the cops would never invest that money on this neighbourhood. Not wanting to go home just yet, Ian took Mickey's advice and headed upstairs to his room. It was a mess, naturally. Instead of wading through the mess like Ian normally did, he headed downstairs and found himself some rubbish bags to fill. Starting with beer cans and DIY-ashtrays, Ian threw out everything he knew to be junk. Next he grabbed an armload of Mickey's clothes and carried them downstairs to the washing machine. It moved when it washed, and made a racquet, but it worked, and by some miracle there was enough laundry powder. Not a highly coveted item in this household. Not having much else to do, Ian kept cleaning. He did little more than throw out beer bottles in the main room, being careful not to throw any bottles out that had even a mouthful left. Though the bottles seemed to be carelessly lying around, he'd been around the house long enough to know that the family each had a sharp memory for unfinished beers. He didn't want to draw attention to his cleaning, so he moved back to Mickey's room. He opened the window to air the room out, not an easy-task. That window hadn't been opened in months. Or was it years? He propped it open with a crow-bar lying on Mickey's floor. Before long, the washing machine stopped it's shuddering with a long beep. Ian got to work on hanging Mickey's clothes out on the hip-height fence of the back porch. The hot night would dry the stuff pretty fast, and checking the time on his phone, he decided to throw in another load. It was easy enough to sort his clothes, Mickey never wore much that wasn't greys or blacks or army green and everything he owned was faded. There was no risk of the clothes running. Next Ian worked on the bathroom that Mickey now had to himself. It could only be accessed through Mickey's room, and with his dad gone, Mickey held his own and forced Mandy to use the downstairs bathroom, and same with his cousins if they were over. Ian was taking a shower to rinse off the soapy shower walls when Mickey and the boys came home. Ian let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. By the cheers and sounds of beer cans cracking, all had gone well. Ian didn't want to go down, and instead waited in Mickey's bed, regretting the choice to not include his sheets in the first load. Half an hour later, Mickey threw open his door and swaggered in.

"Ian! You're here! What the fuck happened to my room?" he asked, looking around.
"Oh, I uh, threw some old stuff out"

"You threw my stuff out? My clothes?" Mickey came towards him menacingly. Ian scrambled back until his back hit the wall
"Woah Mick, easy! I didn't throw out your clothes, I just washed them. There's some on the back porch drying and some in the washing machine. All I threw out were beer cans! And only empties! Actually, you know what? Fuck it! Fuck you Mickey!" Ian shoved grabbed Mickey's shoulders and spun them around, slamming Mickey against the wall with force.

"You just leave to do whatever Milkovich shit you gotta do, and then you come back and give me shit for helping you out while you're away?"

"Ian.. I" Mickey started

"No! You don't get to do that. You.." but Ian was interrupted by Mickey's lips crashing against his own. He tried to pull his head away, but Mickey had a fistful of his hair tangled in his fingers, pulling him back in. Ian found himself relaxing into it, and when they were both naked with Ian scissoring his fingers inside of Mickey, it wasn't clear who had initiated more than kissing. When both boys had finished, Ian pulled out of Mickey and rolled on the bed, laying flat on his back, still naked. Mickey grinned and pulled his jeans back on. Reaching into a drawer he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between Ian's lips, and tossed a lighter that landed on Ian's stomach. He returned to his set of drawers where he rustled around in each drawer before shutting it loudly and moving to the next.

"Whatcha looking for?" called Ian lazily, propped up on his elbows.

"Ashtray. I know I got a proper one here somewhere" Mickey replied, and continued his rustling, "my boyfriend will complain if I don't use a proper ashtray".

"Boyfriend, huh? I think your boyfriend will be more upset if you don't come and cuddle him over here."

Mickey smirked and returned to where Ian lay on the bed. With a few gentle pushes, Mickey made room for himself, and moulded his body to fit around Ian's, enjoying the feeling of his chest pressed flush against Ian's toned back. With a free hand, Mickey ran a casual hand up and down Ian's hairless chest, his shorter arms unable to reach everything he wanted to. But when Ian took Mickey's tattoos hand in his own, cuddling them into Ian's own chest, it wasn't long until the two fell asleep.