A/N: So thank you once more for favoriting and following. It inspires me to keep writing. Sadly, this is the final chapter. Fucked Up will be updated soon, I promise, and I will be trying to write a couple once chapters. Inbox me any prompts or ideas and I will try to do them justice. So, please enjoy this ending, even though it's not very long.
Ian was sitting on the couch, legs folded underneath him as he looked through the boxes of photos Mickey had taken since he had been deployed. Each one made the redhead smile, because he knew they all had a motive behind being taken. Mickey didn't just do things for no reason. He knew all too well.
When he got to the photos from Lip and Mandy's wedding, he'd gotten teary-eyed. It looked like everyone had been so happy, and he'd missed out completely on it. He even missed out on Mickey actually dancing.
"I figure we could just watch that Expendables 2. So many badass motherfuckers in that movie, the epic standard if fuckin high." Mickey came out of the kitchen with two plates of food and set them down on the coffee table before sitting next to Ian on the couch.
"Mickey, what the fuck is that supposed to be?" Ian stared down at the plates. He couldn't even begin to try identifying what the food was.
Mickey rubbed his bottom lip and shrugged.
"Spaghetti."
"Okay, stick to pizza bagels. You can't cook for shit." Ian took the plates and carried them back to the kitchen where he tossed them into the trash before coming back out.
Mickey scowled. "You make the fuckin food then."
Ian simply went to a drawer and pulled out a menu for takeout. The ex-con huffed and took a sip from his beer as he watched the redhead pick up the phone to dial.
"Don't let them fuckin forget my kung pao chicken this time." Mickey put in the movie and was kind enough to keep the volume at a level Ian could talk over.
Ian couldn't help but have that grin on his face. He joined Mickey on the couch when he was done ordering, then presumed to lie down along the couch, his head resting in the older boy's lap. Mickey stared down at him.
"What are you, a fuckin lap dog? The ex-con smirked.
"Says the bottom." Ian remarked. Mickey gently shoved his face.
"Fuck off."
Ian sat up and straddled Mickey's lap. He knotted his hands into Mickey's dark hair and forced the older boy to look up at him as he gave him a kiss. Instead of Mickey shoving or fighting him away like he had in the beginning of their kissing adventures, the ex-con moved to place his hands on Ian's hips, gripping them.
The two boys stayed that way for a while, tongues and teeth fighting for dominance over the other until Mickey won out, making Gallagher's lip bleed and coercing a moan from him by rubbing their tongues together. Finally, they pulled back, short of breath, both smiling.
"That wasn't what I meant…" Mickey mumbled, voice low and gravely from his arousal, making Ian's smile turn into a smirk.
"Do you want me to stop then?" he asked, his voice thick from the matching state of arousal. Ian's hands moved to Mickey's belt, already slowly unbuckling it. The grip on his hips tightened.
"You and your stupid fucking questions, Firecrotch." Mickey growled.
Ian couldn't hide his grin any other way than to bring his lips back to the ex-con's.
Mickey didn't do a lot of things. Mickey didn't do school, didn't get attached, didn't care about anyone but himself. Mickey fought whoever he wanted. And Mickey sure as hell didn't say "I miss you".
Mickey Milkovich broke all his rules. Including the biggest rule of all.
Mickey with every fiber of his being loved Ian Gallagher.