They walked in silence, Mickey dragging on his cigarette with Ian by his side watching. Ian knew Mickey was building up to say something, with the way he'd stick his tongue out the corner of his mouth. So he kept quiet, waiting for the ex-con to speak.

Mickey remained silent and walked until they reached the baseball field, several memories of the two of them running through his head, like when he pissed on first base in Little League and the times he and Ian came here to fuck. He walked to the dugout, then stopped and leant against the chain-link. How the fuck was he supposed to get anything he wanted to say out? This is why he hated to feel, why he should've kept Gallagher at a further distance. Mickey Milkovich was actually nervous.

Ian stayed by his side. He started to wonder if Mickey would even speak. This was their last night before Ian had to leave, and now it's being spent in silence. He knew Mickey didn't do words, but at the least he could do something. The sex was a goodbye, which that much was a no brainer. But would Mickey even miss him?

Finally, Mickey flicked the cigarette to the ground and smushed it with his foot. Then he spoke, eyes looking everywhere but Ian.

"If you get shot, I'll kill you myself."

Ian stared at Mickey. There it was. In that threat, Milkovich had said "I'll miss you" and "Stay alive for me." The taller boy grinned.

"I think I'll live, Mick."

"If you don't, I'll—" Ian cut him off by grabbing the back of his neck and bringing their lips together. The kiss was rough, but held its own sweetness at the same time. At first, Mickey didn't respond to the kiss, and Ian thought that he was just going to push him away or punch him in the face. But then Mickey kissed back, letting emotions he couldn't show seep through. Mickey's hands went to Ian's short hair while the other boy wrapped his hands around the ex-con's hips and pulled him closer.

When they pulled back, neither boy moved their bodies apart, merely ended the contact of their lips. Ian rested his forehead against Mickey's, whose eyes were shut tight, fists clenching the red head's shirt.

"Kiss me again, and I'll cut your fucking tongue out…" Mickey whispered, breathless.

Ian chuckled in response and kissed him again, both knowing the threat was empty.

The kiss was still rough, Mickey biting down on Ian's bottom lip and releasing a moan from him. Ian pressed against him as close as possible and rubbed their crotches together. Both dug their fingers into each other, trying to leave new marks as proof that one belonged to the other. Ian shoved his tongue into Mickey's mouth, moaning as the ex-con sucked on it.

Mickey's fingers moved to the red head's belt in a hurry, tugging and pulling at it so harshly it seemed the belt should have broken, but instead was unbuckled, yanked out of the loops and thrown aside with a clanging sound as it hit the ground. He pulled back from the kiss only to move his mouth to Ian's neck, sucking and biting on the skin, making the taller boy shiver and let loose a low groan.

Ian quickly worked on Mickey's jeans, turning him around roughly and pushing down his pants, the boxers along with them. He then pushed his own down, then pressed against the other boy, feeling his hips push back to meet Ian's and feel something push inside him. Ian traced the scar on the back of Mickey's shoulder that he had made before.

Without hesitation, he bit down and re-opened the scar, making Mickey's head fall forward as he let out a deeply low moan.

"Fuck, Gallagher…" Mickey tried to push his hips back again, growling for Ian to finally be inside him.

The red head's hands held on tightly still to the ex-con's hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave tiny crescent marks, a new set of bruises already beginning to form. Ian then used one of his hands to guide himself to Mickey's puckered entrance and pushed himself inside, groaning, while the ex-con arched with a sound escaping from his lips that Ian had never heard him make before. The feeling of Mickey tightening around his dick was something he could he could never describe, just like Mickey couldn't explain how it made him feel full and complete, as gay as it sounded.

Mickey gripped the edge of the dugout beneath his hands, trying to fight against Ian's hands and move his hips back, but Firecrotch's grip was unbreakable. Ian began to thrust into Mickey, then gradually thrusting turned into slamming their hips together, both falling into the rough familiarity of their fucking. Mickey didn't care for slow and gentle most of the time, even if Ian wanted it. He loved getting new bruises and bite marks, making him belong to Ian. He'd never admit to something faggy like that, but it was true. Just like how Ian will always be his.

Both boys continued to slam their hips together, making Mickey moan loudly, the way Ian loved to hear it. Ian's face stayed buried in his neck, sucking against the skin as his own moans came out. When Ian could feel himself getting close, he let go of Mickey's hips, reaching a hand around and wrapping it tightly around the boy's dick, stroking the shaft with equal speed and roughness as the thrusts.

The ex-con let out a choked moan, tensing as he came, echoing through the dugout. Ian used it as an advantage, grabbing his chin and forcing their lips to meet, crushing into each other. Mickey gave in and kissed back, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to split the skin and draw blood. A few more thrusts and Ian fell over the edge, hit by the force of his orgasm. The boys stayed hunched over, breathing hard and still pressed against each other.

Mickey looked at Ian in one of the rare moments when is walls seemed to be completely gone. There was a real smile on his face, though small, and Ian could swear that the look in his eyes was actually one of affection, and maybe even…Love. But Ian knew that look would disappear soon enough and that it would never be spoken of.

Ian pulled out of Mickey, smiling himself, and fixed his jeans before walking over to where his belt landed and putting it back on. He watched as Mickey zipped up his own jeans, eyes wandering before resting on the red head.

"Don't let it go to your head, but I'm gonna fucking miss you, Firecrotch."