Sorry it's been a while, I've just been completely uninspired.

Mickey stirred, the feeling of hot breath on his neck confusing him completely. It was only when he opened his eyes that he was reminded of his whereabouts, reminded that he had actually agreed to stay. During the night Mickey had rolled onto his back and he now had Ian's face nuzzled into his neck, with an arm across his chest and a leg hitched over his hips. It was no surprise to Mickey: every time, though there weren't very many of them, he and Gallagher had literally slept together Ian would always find some way to sprawl himself across him, holding onto him like he was precious or some shit. It always earned him a hard jab in the ribs. This time, though, Mickey didn't hit him or complain, it wasn't because he particularly liked it, he didn't, but he was so fucking comfortable and the way Ian was mumbling a load of crap that wasn't even coherent was pretty amusing.

"He always does that."

Somehow, despite the fact that that he was basically pinned to the bed, Mickey jumped at the sound of someone's voice. He looked up to see Lip on his top bunk looking over at him. Before Mickey could do anything - not that he knew what he was going to do - Lip jumped down and sat on the desk at the end of Ian's bed then lit a cigarette.

Lip narrowed his eyes as he blew out the smoke he inhaled. "You're not jerking each other off under there are you?"

"Fuck off, Lip," Ian mumbled into Mickey's neck, just as Mickey was about to say the same thing. Ian was so close to him that Mickey could feel every syllable that was uttered and he didn't think he could really hide his arousal thanks to the thin sheet that hung from their hips, so to avoid any futher embarassment he tried to wriggle up the bed a little but the fact that he had one of his arms around Ian's shoulders - something he had only just noticed - made that really kind of difficult to do subtely. He opted for moving closer to the wall.

There was a little scoff from Lip. "He can be an asshole in the mornings, and not the kind the two of you like," and he barely had time to finish his sentence because Ian shot up and grabbed at his ankle but Lip managed to get free and ran out the room with Ian hot on his tracks. He closed the door with a huff and got back into bed, this time completely on top of Mickey.

It felt weird having Ian looking at him with his face mere inches from his. He didn't know what the guy was thinking and he often felt like he had a pretty good idea about that - around Mickey Ian was usually thinking about fucking or something like that but still - yet this time he didn't. All he thought he could, so all he did, was lay there with an arm under his head and the other on the small of Ian's back staring back at him.

"I really hated you, you know?" Ian whispered, his eyes growing sad.

Mickey shifted a little, physically representing how uncomfortable he was feeling on the inside about where this conversation could be heading; he felt uncomfortable because he knew that Ian couldn't have hated him anymore than he hated himself.

"Yeah, well, I did enough of that for the both of us so..." Mickey said, looking across at the wall like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

Ian got up and straddled Mickey, his hands rubbing up and down his chest which was making Mickey way too hot but he didn't complain because it also felt crazy good for reasons he didn't actually know. And, instinctively, Mickey put his hands on Ian's thighs.

"I know you don't wanna be my "faggy little boyfriend" as you've said like a million times before, but I can't go back to being just the guy you fuck," Ian said with something in his voice Mickey didn't think he had heard before. At least not from Gallagher. It was like a combination of confidence and fear and it freaked Mickey the fuck out. He wondered if running out of the house and back into the four walls he called his bedroom would make the situation better. He wondered if he ran far enough and quick enough that he could somehow escape all of this because fuck, this shit wasn't something he really knew how to deal with because this couldn't be solved with fists and harsh words and it wouldn't go away if he simply ignored it. But he didn't run and he didn't shout. Instead he sat up a little so he wasn't completely horizontal and sighed. No, he didn't want to be Ian's boyfriend because that was labelling himself, it was labelling whatever the hell they had and Mickey wasn't one for labels, he wasn't one for telling the whole world things about himself that they didn't need to know and labels did just that. Lables allowed people to judge you before they'd even met you and being a Milkovich, he knew all about prejudgement.

"Whatever, okay," he said, faking nonchalance, whilst having an internal fucking panic attack.

Ian smiled a little. "So, we can just be, I don't know, something?" One of his hands was flat against Mickey's chest and the other made patterns on his abs which was having the same effect as a lullaby would have on a baby.

Something. Something wasn't really a label, Mickey thought, not really. And that was probably the most accurate description of what they were, what they always had been. And besides, Mickey had been through too much for this fucking guy and he had been too honest for too long to start lying now. "Fine," he said, then rubbed his bottom lip.

That fucking idiot smile spread across Ian's face. "You're such a dick," Mickey muttered slapping his thigh because he couldn't be bothered to reach up to his face.

Ian bent down putting his arms either side of Mickey's head. "Kiss me," he whispered, his lips lightly grazing Mickey's as he spoke, they were so close.

Mickey scoffed and made like he was going to kiss him. "Fuck off," he said instead then laughed a little at Ian's face as it dropped and he actually fucking pouted a little like a kid who wasn't getting his own way.

"You kissed me last night."

"Yeah, that was different," Mickey said quickly, though he wasn't sure how it was different.

Ian rolled his eyes. "How?"

Mickey's answer was a simple shrug that made Ian scowl which made Mickey snort which earned him a punch in the ribs and that's how they both ended up on the floor play fighting - though that isn't to say they weren't actually hurting each other. After a while, Ian was straddling Mickey again as he pinned him to the floor with his wrists either side of his head, and if Mickey hadn't been so damn tired he would have flipped them with ease, but he hadn't had enough time to adjust to being awake, so he just layed there with a shoe digging into the side of his back and Ian looking down at him mischeviously.

Mickey squirmed a little when Ian shifted his weight because now that fucking shoe was actually causing him pain.

"Kiss me and I'll let you go," Ian snarled, shifting his weight again and causing Mickey to curse under his breath.

"Fuck, okay, come 'ere then," Mickey huffed out.

Ian put his face even closer to Mickey's but that's all he did. Mickey looked up at him expectantly because he was the one who so eager for a fucking kiss and yet he was doing nothing.

"I said kiss me," Ian whispered and Mickey didn't even hesitate, he caught Ian's mouth with his own and began kissing him like time was running out and anything he did had to be done at high speed. Within seconds they had their tongues in each other's mouths and Mickey was biting at Ian's bottom lip.

Neither of them knew how long they had stayed like that kissing like they were fucking, grinding against each other, but it took Lip walking in to get a change of clothes to stop them. After that Ian had managed to persuade Mickey to take a shower with him with the promise of a blowjob and who was Mickey to turn down a blowjob from Gallagher? They dressed quickly after, Ian trying to steal kisses from Mickey but failing every time.

It was only when they had gotten to the bottom of the stairs that Mickey began to feel like running again. It was when he saw Fiona with Jimmy in the kitchen and Lip sat at the table that he froze in his spot on the last step. He knew Lip knew and didn't give a shit, but Fiona? Mickey didn't know about her. Well, he knew she knew about Ian and didn't care but that's because he was her brother and they were Gallaghers, for fucks sake, and would love each other no matter what. She didn't have to accept Mickey and he didn't think she would. As for Jimmy, well Mickey had no fucking clue about what he thought.

"You staying for breakfast Mickey?" His eyes darted across to see Fiona looking at him with a plate of pancakes in one hand. She looked tired but at the same time she didn't look like she wanted to sleep.

Mickey stared at her, slightly open mouthed and risked looking like a fucking idiot but he just didn't know what to do, he didn't know if he should, he didn't even know if he wanted to.

"Jesus, Mickey, just take the plate and sit down," Ian said, pulling out the chair beside him and giving Mickey his best 'say no and I'll kill you' face and considering he'd only recently made up with him, Mickey was in no position to say no so he walked over to Fiona took the plate from her then sat down beside Ian who was smiling down at his pancakes. Mickey jabbed him in the ribs for it.

The silence was only broken when Debbie came running down the stairs, still in her pyjamas, and into the kitchen. "How come Mickey's here?" she asked whilst she got herself some cereal.

Fiona, Lip, Ian and Mickey all shared this weird glance and had the same look on their faces. Shit, Mickey thought, fucking shit.

"Uh, well Mickey forgot his keys so he stayed the night in Carl's bed," Lip said with a smile.

Debbie sat down across from Ian and nodded her head a little and Mickey thought that was the end of it but then he saw her frown slightly. "But why did you leave the party anyway, it was at your house," she said as she shovelled cereal into her mouth.

Mickey didn't know if Ian's younger siblings knew about him and to be honest, he didn't give a shit. What he did give a shit about was them knowing about him because he knew from experience that kids were the worst secret keepers.

"Because Debs," Lip spoke again and Mickey didn't think he'd ever liked him and his quick thinking brain so much, "Mickey's been in juvie for months and uh, well he and Ian are friends so they wanted to hang out, y'know? Catch up," Lip looked at Mickey and Ian gave them a knowing look which bordered being sarcastic.

Debbie simply nodded again and stopped asking questions. The tension in Mickey's shoulders slowly slipped away but the need for a cigarette didn't. He finished his pancakes - he had to hand it to her, Fiona could cook - then looked across at Ian. "I'm gonna go," he said, standing up sort of awkwardly.

Ian nodded and gave him a quick smile that almost made Mickey want to stay. Almost. But he left and as soon as he was outside he swore to himself then lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it. He didn't know why, but he walked home at a fucking snail's pace even though the sun was horribly hot and he was dressed in dark clothes. The movement of his feet reminded him that the ground was still there, that he was still there; it told him that the world han't imploded just because he was now in a some sort of relationship thing. The thought of ever being in the sort of situation he was now in used to make Mickey laugh, used to make him roll his eyes and want to vomit. He'd see couples and he'd want to hit them. Mickey would tell himself it was because he didn't need to see that shit, didn't need to see kissing and cuddling and whatnot, he'd tell himself that it wasn't because he'd never get to do that and that filled him with envy like nothing else ever could, it wasn't because he was getting a glimpse of what could be if he was "normal", he'd tell himself that it wasn't because he craved having another person want him like that. Except it was. That's what it had alwayd been about.

When he got home, Kiera didn't say a word but he knew that she knew because when she cupped his cheek she smirked at him then touched the bite mark on the bottom of his neck near his collarbone. She took a step back from him and nodded and he did the same. It was like an unspoken agreement or truce or something that neither of them understood; they didn't know what that little gesture meant yet they understood it completely.