A/N: Thank you so much Minipou, blondiegoldeneyes, and MintSauce for the encouragement, it means a lot. So here is the next chapter, I might be uploading the next several pretty quickly, I only need to type them up. So, please, enjoy and review.

No fucking way would Mickey admit what he feels deep down. He'll never tell Gallagher how he's spent little moments looking over him, memorizing the freckles on his face, or how soft his hair feels at the touch, or even how Mickey loves when he's wearing that shit eating grin. All the faggy things Mickey hated to notice, yet he didn't want to stop noticing.

And the the feeling kept getting stronger. As they got together more frequently, Mickey began to feel possessive, that Ian was only his. Maybe he was Ian's too. But he'd never ask and sure as fuck wouldn't say it. He's been shot in the leg and ass, both times over that grinning ginger. And if anyone ever tried to hurt Gallagher, Mickey was sure as hell never going to let them live.

So by the time Ian was called to duty, Mickey knew what he felt. Just like he knew Ian could get shot or blown up fighting in whatever –stan they ship him off to. If he gets his ass killed, Mickey didn't know what he'd do. This guy's taken a part of him that he can't get back. And even if he could, Mickey didn't want it back. Fucking Gallagher made a Milkovich feel something that wasn't hate.

As they lied together in Ian's bed—one of the rare things that had begun to be more frequent—Mickey kept thinking it over, a hand tracing the tattoos on his right hand.

"You're thinking again."

"Fuck off." Mickey shoved at Ian's shoulder, making the taller boy laugh and shift so he's propped up on his side.

"Seriously, I'm surprised you haven't chewed your lip off." He remarked, smiling.

Mickey glared and dug out the carton of cigarettes from his jeans that were left on the floor, taking one out and offering the red head one before lighting up.

"Mick—"

"Don't, Firecrotch."

Ian blinked in surprise and sat up, taking a drag from his own cigarette. "Don't what?"

"Don't say what we both fucking know you were going to."

Ian's head moved in a slight nod. There was a moment of silence between them, then just as Mickey opened his mouth, the door burst open and Lip barged into the room.

"Fuck, Lip!" Ian, shouted, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at his brother.

"Jesus, Gallagher, heard of knocking?" Mickey glared, quickly grabbing his boxers.

"Well, considering it's my room, I don't find knocking to be something I need to do." Lip smirked, leaning against the bunk bed.

Mickey put out the cigarette and pulled on his boxers, then reached for his jeans. He was this close to using the window to wipe that smirk off Lip's face. This wasn't something he needed to fucking deal with, tonight of all nights. Ian gave Lip a glare, something else expressed in the look, which Lip responded to with a nod.

"You know what? I think Mandy said she needed me. I'll just come back later when the room doesn't stink of sex." Lip said, backing out of the room and closing the door.

"Mick, you don't have to go. Lip was being an ass like always, just stay a little longer." Ian looked at him as Mickey stood and finished pulling on his clothes.

"You heard Lip, my sister's here, Firecrotch."

"She won't know you're here. We can stay up here while Lip keeps her company downstairs."

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, then went to the door. "I'm sneaking out the back, Gallagher. You can stay here, or come with me."

They both knew the answer to that without Ian answering.