Mandy called it moping, but Mickey just called it distracting himself.
He sat on his bed, a book resting against his knees and he was trying to read it, he really was. It just wasn't going to very well. Because he kept remembering. He kept remembering the most random things.
Things about his mum, who he'd never really thought about before. Things like how it felt to have his Dad's hands around his throat, trying to strangle the life out of him. The time Mandy had pierced her own nose and it had swollen up, he remembered how it had looked, how he'd laughed at her. He remembered that his older brother Joey had gotten pink eye once and everyone had taken the piss out of him for months. He remembered pissing on first base during his little league baseball game. He remembered Ian being on second base, remembered Ian telling him that in the dugouts. He remembered why baseball made him think of sex. He remembered playing video games with Mandy on his birthday one year and her being the only one who had remembered. He remembered everything about Juvie. He remembered how to be Mickey Milkovich completely, how he used to speak, how he used to act.
He remembered so much that he thought maybe it felt like everything.
He remembered until he didn't want to remember anymore.
He remembered everything about Ian, every stupid little thing he'd ever told him, every little trait he had. He remembered the harsh words, the desperation and the fear when he thought about Frank blabbing his mouth. He remembered the look in Ian's eyes when Mickey had lied to him and told him that he was nothing but a warm mouth.
It was like telling Ian how that old Mickey had felt and telling him that he knew he still felt the same way even now had opened some sort of floodgate. Everything had just come rushing back to him, without him even wanting it to. It was like he'd needed the pain, the pain in his chest to become so intense that it made him forget everything but the pain. And forgetting made him remember. Only Ian Gallagher could make him feel that sort of pain.
It was weird and it was uncomfortable, because his head suddenly felt too full. He felt different, but not different. He felt different because this was the him that he hadn't been for so long. But he didn't feel different because he'd been that him for a lot longer and he also didn't feel different, because even though he remembered, he didn't feel like he was that person anymore. Okay, admittedly remembering had brought some of the anger back, because he remembered where that anger had always come from.
The harsh words, the insults, the bitterness, that had all stemmed from being downtrodden, from being batted around and stamped upon for his entire childhood, his entire life. Nobody had ever given a shit about Mickey Milkovich. Not really. He'd known that, he'd accepted that. He'd accepted that his Dad didn't like him, let alone want him as a son and his mum didn't give enough of a shit to not leave him behind. He'd accepted that Mandy was probably going to be the only one who would ever give two shits. And that had all been fine. He'd accepted that from an early age and moved on. He'd compensated by making sure nobody ever would like him, because he didn't need them to. Nobody ever had before, why should they start now?
And then Ian Gallagher had come along and he'd cared when he wasn't supposed to and he'd contradicted every single thing that Mickey had ever thought, decided or felt. He'd crashed unknowingly through ever single barrier Mickey had put up to stop himself getting hurt and Mickey had freaked. He didn't know how to deal with that, he didn't want to deal with that. He wanted sex and Gallagher gave great sex, but that was supposed to be it.
He wasn't supposed to make Mickey feel.
But that was where the difference was. That was where the difference would probably always be. Mickey could become that Mickey again, he could become rude and harsh and essentially a dick, but he wouldn't do that what Mickey had done. He wouldn't deny being in love, he wouldn't deny anything to Ian, because he wasn't that much of a coward. He wanted Ian more than he wanted to hide away; which meant he probably should have explained the whole situation of loving him a little better than blabbering like an idiot.
To be fair though, he'd panicked.
He swore under his breath when someone knocked on the door, because he didn't want to move. He wanted to sit there and try and forget that he was remembering and try and forget that the pain in his chest that made him feel like he was drowning. He even thought about ignoring whoever it was until they started banging on it with their fist.
Muttering under his breath, he jerked it open and his eyes flew open in surprise when hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head. Ian just stared at him, his face so close that Mickey could practically taste his breath. He stared like he was searching for something and that was when Mickey knew that he'd found out about Mickey's little problem.
"They said you can't remember," Ian said eventually, his voice broken sounding. Like he'd been crying. And yes, his eyes were red-rimmed too. "You let me yell at you, let me hate you and you couldn't even remember."
Mickey didn't know when he'd reached up and grabbed a hold of Ian's forearms. He dug his fingertips into Ian's skin, held on tight, just to convince himself he wasn't imagining this. "I remembered you," he said, because Mickey wasn't going to lie, not this time, "I remembered your voice in my head."
How could he possibly forget him? Not completely. He'd never forgotten him completely.
Ian's fingers pushed into the back of his hair and when their mouths crashed together, it was desperate and needy and everything Mickey felt like he had ever wanted. He'd hated himself when he remembered that he'd never let Ian kiss him. "Kiss me and I'll cut your fucking tongue out." He remembered that and he'd hated himself, but he didn't anymore. He thought maybe it was worth the wait.
He pulled Ian into the house, with his fingers digging into the redhead's hips. He heard Ian kick the door shut behind them, but he couldn't concentrate on anything more than the feel of Ian's fingers in his hair and his lip against his. He couldn't focus past the tongue in his mouth and god that taste! He couldn't even explain it, couldn't define it, he just knew that it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, the best thing he could ever taste. It made him suck Ian's tongue into his mouth, drag them closer together like maybe then it would never end. Because he never wanted it to end. He never wanted to let Ian go, not for a single second.
He pushed at Ian's shirt, pushed his hands up underneath it, needed to feel his flesh, craving it like a drug. And when he felt it, he moaned, because the contact sent shivers running through his body, like electricity. It was amazing and addictive and he dug his fingers hard into Ian's sides because he had to make sure that this was real, that he was really there because Mickey didn't feel like he deserved for anything to feel this good.
Ian's hands pulled his shirt from his body and Mickey shivered a little at the cold air, but then Ian was pressing against him and he forgot to notice. Ian's hands slipped behind his back, pressing into his bare shoulder blades, nails scraping against flesh and making Mickey moan deep in his chest because he'd never felt anything as good as that feeling. He dropped his own hands down from Ian's sides to grab his ass, to pull their crotches flush together and making them both gasp. But then that wasn't enough and he stuffed his hand down into the narrow space between Ian's flesh and his skinny jeans and he squeezed the hot, smooth globes and caused Ian to bite down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, but neither of them cared.
Mickey's shirt was the next thing to go and he made this weird whimpering sound because he had to pull his hands out of the back of Ian's trousers to get it off, but then Ian's hands were roaming over his pale torso and he was bending and teasing one of Mickey's nipples into a hard peak with his teeth. Mickey's breath stuttered out of his lungs and he grabbed at Ian's head because as good as that felt, it only made him want to kiss him again.
The redhead laughed breathlessly right before their mouths crashed together again. Mickey thought maybe Ian was feeling that desperation too, maybe they really were on exactly the same wavelength because it seemed like it what with the way that Ian was pressing up against him, clutching him so tight that it was almost hard for the both of them to breathe and there wasn't even air between them, but it didn't matter. Because this was what they needed. This was what they were both craving.
Mickey tackled Ian's belt, pulling it completely out of the loops, hearing it clatter to the floor as Ian backed him up further. He thought maybe Ian was heading for the couch, but they never made it because Mickey pushed Ian's jeans down and they seemed to tangle around both of them and sent them crashing down to the floor.
He couldn't help but laugh even as he kissed Ian, even as he pulled away just long enough to drag the offending item of clothing off of the redhead. And Ian laughed as well and it was quite possibly the best sound Mickey had ever heard. Except, no, the moan that Ian made when Mickey reached down between them and palmed Ian's cock through the fabric of his boxers, that was the best sound.
Mickey wasn't wearing underwear underneath his slacks and he'd never been more grateful for his laziness as he was in that moment. Ian's nails dug into his bare ass as he pulled Mickey on top and Mickey rested on his elbows either side of Ian's head, intent on kissing him to death as their hips ground against each other. He pushed his fingers into Ian's short hair, relishing in the feel of it because fuck his hair was soft. His skin was soft as well, the softest thing Mickey had ever felt and he couldn't stop touching Ian. He thought he would have died if someone had made him. He couldn't stop dragging his fingers over Ian's hair, over his neck and arms. Couldn't stop himself from licking a line down Ian's neck and tasting the saltiness of the sweat there.
And when Ian rolled them so that he was the one pinning Mickey, they just stared at each other for a minute because Mickey thought Ian was realising then that this was the most perfect moment that there had ever been. It wasn't like any of the sessions that Mickey could now remember. That had been great, but that had been fucking. No, this, this was something so much more. Mickey would have called it making love, but even that didn't feel adequate.
Ian lifted off slightly so that Mickey could drag his boxers off his hips and they were kicked away, sliding under the couch and Mickey pressed his thumbs into Ian's hipbones because he hadn't ever thought of hipbones as being sexy before, but Ian's were. His teeth found Ian's shoulder for a second and his tongue lapped over a scar that was there that he knew he made and for a second he thought he could remember making it, but his head was a jumble with all the memories that needed sorting through, but at the same time it was blank because Ian's hands on his thighs, shifting his legs up a little was distracting.
Ian pressed his mouth against the scar on Mickey's shoulder in return and smiled down at him, making sure Mickey was watching as he sucked two fingers into his mouth. When he circled them around Mickey's puckered entrance, pressed them inside just slightly, Ian closed the distance again and caught Mickey's gasp-like moan in his mouth, swallowing the sound.
His entire body felt like it was on fire, but in the best way possible as Ian slowly pumped his fingers in and out of Mickey's hole and when they were taken away, Mickey felt like screaming in frustration. Ian actually laughed at him, obviously seeing something akin to that desperation, that loss in Mickey's expression and he kissed Mickey gently, more gently than they had been doing, more gentle than they had ever been with each other before as slowly he lined himself up.
Mickey made this weird snarling sound as Ian pushed inside, because it burned, but it felt amazing. He could feel every inch of Ian as he eased in and there were a lot of inched. He thought he could feel that thick vein and every bump and ridge and he had to close his eyes because the lights in his brain were threatening to blind him. Ian's breath stuttered out of him and Mickey dug his fingers into Ian's shoulders as he hitched his legs up higher to wrap them around Ian's waist; and that movement made Ian slide in right up to the hilt and it hit that spot inside of Mickey that had him writhing and practically screaming and Ian took that as the sign to fucking move and when he did it was the most glorious thing that Mickey had ever felt.
It wasn't a pounding like it usually was, but it wasn't completely slow either. It was right. Ian slid his arms under Mickey, his hands behind Mickey's head, holding him as he slid into him and it felt almost like he was cradling Mickey. Mickey had never felt protected before, he'd never needed to be, but he felt like he was then. He felt safe and he felt like he was in the only place he ever wanted to be and he pressed his lips against the side of Ian's neck and moaned because he didn't have the vocabulary or the ability right then to explain to Ian how this all felt. He wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him how amazing this all was, how amazing he was, but each time it just came out as, "F-Fuuuck."
He thought maybe that about said it all though actually.
He could feel Ian smiling against his skin and he lifted up a little, peeling their chests apart what with all the sweat slicked against their flesh. When Ian kissed him, Mickey could feel the lazy slide of his tongue right the way down to his toes and he moaned again into Ian's mouth because hopefully that would explain how great that felt. He knew it wasn't quite adequate, but he hoped it would do.
Mickey came first when Ian rolled his hips in that way that did Mickey in every single time – that he could definitely remember – and he thought his ass must have been doing something pretty amazing because Ian sounded like he was choking and then he was right there with Mickey in bliss. Mickey could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a second, or maybe it was his breathing that stopped. Or maybe it was time. He didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted to scream, except when he opened his mouth no sound came out, but his eyes rolled back into his head and Ian moaned low and sort of feverish against his skin and bit him lightly and it was with that bite that they started shuddering with nothing but pure, sated pleasure.
There was nothing but the sounds of them panting for a long few minutes and Mickey moaned slightly under his breath when Ian pulled out and that made Ian chuckle. "Don't even think about moving," he said when the redhead started to lift up and he sounded more like the old him then than he ever had before.
Ian just smiled and lowered himself back down, supporting himself on his elbows, his face inches away from Mickey's. Ian kept running his fingers through Mickey's hair and Mickey found his eyes closing because that actually felt sort of nice. He lowered his legs from wrapping around Ian's waist when they started to get a little cramped and settled them either side of Ian's, pressing them together.
"I love you," Ian said, the look in his eyes saying that he was expecting Mickey to push him away and that old part of himself inwardly flinched at what Ian was saying, but the new him punched the old him in the face and told him to shut the fuck up because it wasn't like anyone but him could hear Ian say those words and it wasn't like he didn't feel the same way.
He smoothed his palms up and down Ian's back, feeling the bumps of his spine and Ian seemed to relax slightly, like the fact that Mickey was still willing to touch him was a positive sign. "I know," Mickey said softly, nudging Ian's nose with his in a way that was really stupid but kind of nice as well.
Ian smirked, "You're supposed to say love you too."
"Well I was going to get to that, but then you opened your mouth," Mickey told him, glaring without any venom at all, so it probably wasn't really glaring at all.
Ian stuck his tongue out at him and Mickey darted up and sucked the muscle into his mouth, making Ian's eyes widen slightly before he relaxed and pressed down into the kiss. And Mickey would have happily stayed like that forever, mapping out the inside of Ian's mouth, feeling a heartbeat against his chest and not knowing if it was his or Ian's. Except apparently, that wasn't supposed to happen.
"Holy shit!" Mandy squealed and Mickey twisted his head to see his sister standing there with her hands clapped over her eyes.
Lip walked in not far behind her, "What what's wrong?" And then he looked up and saw them there and swore loudly. "Ian, dammit, I don't need to see that!" he looked like he was about to be sick, "Please tell me you're not having sex."
"The stickiness in my ass would imply not," Mickey said, not knowing why he wasn't freaking out because somewhere inside of himself he felt like he should be. He licked a line across Ian's neck again and then bit down, which dragged a moan out of the younger guy's throat.
"Fuck, what did you just do!" Lip was practically screaming, "Just. . . ugh! No, just stop?"
"Would you rather we stand up?" Ian asked, his fingers still playing in Mickey's hair and making his back arch like a cat when his nails scraped over his scalp. Ian chuckled and did it again, which made Mickey dig his fingertips into Ian's spine.
"Please put some clothes on," Mandy practically begged.
Mickey smirked slightly, "No, I'm comfy."
That and there was the possessive side of him that was making him practically feel sick at the thought of someone else seeing Ian completely naked. Which was stupid, because Lip was his brother and Mandy was. . . well a girl. But still. He couldn't help it.
"Will you at least move to your room?" Lip asked, sounding just like Mandy, practically begging.
"Maybe we should," Ian muttered, his voice low, just for Mickey. He nudged Mickey's jaw with his nose, his tongue flicking out and tasting it. "Or we could get in the shower," he suggested and the look in his eyes was almost enough to make Mickey hard again. Almost, because even Mickey's stamina wasn't that great.
He was rolling them onto their feet before Ian had even really finished speaking.
"Oh for fuck's sake, you could have told me you were standing up," Mandy said, having just opened her eyes again and Mickey couldn't help but laugh.
"Sorry Mands," he muttered as they passed her, even though he wasn't really sorry at all.
Ian was pressed up flush against his back before they'd even made it through his bedroom door.
