Shit. Oh, shit, my head. Ian couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. There was the most horrendous pounding sensation going on inside his head, like millions of animals were stampeding inside it. His throat was dry and he could just imagine how hoarse his voice was going to sound when he spoke. Rubbing his palms into his eyes, he sat up. Then he bolted upright because this wasn't his room, wasn't even his house. Oh shit. Shit! This was Mickey's room and it was Mickey's bed he was sat on and yeah, he was as naked as he was the second he was born. Moments from last night slowly began to enter his mind: there was singing, really loud, but not terrible, singing; at one point Kiera and Mandy made out because they lost beer pong which Lip and Louis thought was like the hottest thing ever, weird straight guys; shots, definitely shots of some kind and they weren't normal shots they were like, oh fuck, I did body shots; and then... he looked down at Mickey. "Fuck," he whispered to himself, because suddenly he remembered kissing and grabbing and moaning and fucking. Great, so they fucked. And it would have been clumsy and loud so he wouldn't even be able to pretend like it didn't happen around the others.
Scrabbling for his clothes that were littered around the room, Ian did his best to stay quiet. This was already awkward, he didn't need to deal with Mickey, not that it was exactly easy to wake the guy up, but still.
He couldn't believe that they slept together, that he'd lost control like that. Whatever the hell those shots were was what he blamed. Really, it wasn't their fault. It was barely his fault. Or Mickey's. Neither of them chose to be so attracted to each other, it wasn't planned. Definitely wasn't planned. It just happened, like this had done. Still, Ian really wished it hadn't and wanted to get out of there as soon as he could.
Just as he was putting on his shoes, Mickey began to groan. "Fuck," he mumbled, startling Ian so that he froze, laces in hand. "What are you doin'?"
Ian kept his eyes on his foot. "I'm about to leave," he whispered, his voice just as croaky as he predicted. Leaving his laces partially untied, he stood up and turned to face Mickey, biting the inside of his cheek so that he didn't smile because, well, sleepy, adorable Mickey was looking up at him.
Mickey pulled the sheet up a little and rubbed his squinty eyes, confused. "Why?"
"Because..." he trailed off,"y'know, it's probably best if I do." Which wasn't really a reason. Except it was because Ian couldn't stay.
His hand was on the doorknob, about to turn it when Mickey asked why again. "Mickey we had drunken sex and that really wasn't supposed to happen." He turned around to look at him. "It shouldn't have happened." Ian was sure he saw a flicker of hurt on Mickey's face for a second before it hardened to its usual expression.
"Oh. Right, whatever," he muttered quickly, facing the wall.
Ian sighed at Mickey's refusal to talk things out. This was the perfect opportunity to and yet there he was, falling back asleep. Ian walked out and reached into his pocket. Empty. He reached into the other one and it was also empty.
Aggravated that he could no longer complete his plan for a quick getaway, he walked back into Mickey's bedroom. "Mickey, have you seen my..." he had been too busy looking around the messy floor to see that Mickey had stood up, thankfully with boxers on, and was holding his phone in hand. "Phone," he huffed out, smiling awkwardly. Mickey was staring at him, a real, deep stare and Ian couldn't look away. Ian didn't want to look away. Edging closer, Mickey closed off the gap between them. They were almost toe to toe; so close that the heat radiating from them intertwined; so close that Ian could feel Mickey's body though not a single part of them was touching. He could have taken his phone from Mickey's hand that was by his side and left. Something was stopping him or more likely, it was someone. It was Mickey and the way he didn't shift his eyes from his; it was the way he was gradually moving one hand to his neck.
Ian knew he shouldn't have moved his hand to Mickey's hip, but the way his neck was being gripped made his brain stop working. Made his eyes close and his lips press against Mickey's. There was an edge to the way Mickey was kissing him; it lacked brutality but it hurt. It hurt a place deep inside of him and, despite the pain, he couldn't stop. It was like when there's a film you already know is going to leave you feeling emotionally drained but you watch it anyway because that feeling you get is real and startling to the core. It leaves you breathless and speechless and completely addicted.
This wasn't how they kissed, it was neither rough and quick nor soft and gentle. Somehow, it was completely different; new. Ian didn't know why, couldn't think why, but he knew it was.
Then it hit him. This was Mickey's apology. The first time they had ever kissed was a physical representation of an apology and so was this. But Ian didn't want that. He was sick of Mickey being too afraid or embarrassed to voice his feelings and speak about things that needed to be spoken about. He was sick of being the one who wore his heart on his sleeve so that it could be broken whenever Mickey needed out. So he needed to stop this before he got completely taken.
With perhaps a little too much force, Ian pushed Mickey back, confusion flooding his face. Breathing hard, Ian battled to regain just a little composure, enough so that he could talk at least. And after a couple of seconds he did just that. "Drunken sex and a kiss isn't going to do it," he said clearly, precise.
Mickey rubbed his bottom lip then went back to chewing at it. Now, more than confused, he looked pissed off and Ian didn't expect anything else. Mickey didn't like it when people didn't do as he said or when things didn't go the way he wanted. In an oddly mature way, he was just like a kid.
Shuffling where he stood, Ian nodded towards Mickey's hand because it was still clutching his phone. He half expected Mickey to throw it at him or a wall or maybe stamp on it, but instead he calmly - freakishly so - took a step closer and pressed it to Ian's chest. Ian put his hand over Mickey's before it slowly slipped away. Gentle wasn't the first word that sprung to mind when Ian, or anyone, thought about Mickey, but that's exactly what he was being. Even his expression had softened and his shoulders were relaxed and loose. It wasn't quite right. He looked defeated. Ian hoped he didn't feel that way because that might have meant that he would give up trying with him. Ian wanted Mickey back but he wasn't going to be a fucking door mat just so that could happen. He needed to know that Mickey was going to be there, even when he was terrified.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Ian left, walking home as quickly as his legs would allow. He still felt groggy and his headache wasn't improving. The thousands of thoughts rushing through his mind probably didn't help matters.
Practically his whole family were in the pool, including half the neighborhood's kids for Debbie's day care thing when he arrived home.
"Someone's wearing the same clothes they wore yesterday!" Kev shouted especially loud.
Kev, Vee and Lip all looked at him with wide, knowing grins. Ian wasn't in the mood for dealing with other people's joy at his expense. He stopped at the bottom of the steps. "How observant of you," he deadpanned.
Faking a slightly shocked expression, Kev turned to Lip. "Is he sassing me? I feel like he's sassing me."
Rolling his eyes, Ian hurried up the stairs and into the kitchen where Fiona was sat reading a magazine and looking extremely calm. Or high maybe. He was about to head for the stairs when she spoke.
"Ah, where are you off to so quick?" she asked, putting down her reading material.
Slowly, Ian turned to face her because he knew Lip and his big mouth had already told her the main event of last night. He just knew it.
She smiled at him. "Y'know it would have been easier for you to call than for me to try and decipher a text Lip sent me. A pretty explicit text, too," she said, still smiling.
"Remind me to thank him for that," he said sarcastically, taking a seat at the table. He held his head in his hands and sighed long and hard. He was hating this day already and he wasn't even at work or school or anything.
Taking her hands out of the pockets of her denim jeans, Fiona walked into the kitchen and reached into the squirrel fund. Ian looked at her questioningly because, well, what the hell was she doing? Money wasn't going to fix anything, especially when that money was needed for the Winter. She caught onto his confusion and huffed out a short laugh. "Painkillers?" she asked, holding up the pack of pills.
Ian nodded slowly but his expression stayed the same. "Carl and Little Hank thought it'd be a good idea," she started whilst running the tap, "to crush them up and sell them to junkies as cocaine," she explained, sitting down across from him handing over a glass of water and said pills.
Ian wasn't even surprised, Carl had been spending the Summer coming up with genuinely crazy ideas to make money. It was sort of sweet but insane which was actually a pretty good description of Carl, Ian thought.
Fiona was giving him a look, sort of silently asking him if he was okay without being annoying about it. He shook his head and immediately regretted it. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, faking a smile.
And with that, they fell into an unfamiliar silence, the only sounds being the screams and laughs of those in the pool.
It wasn't like Ian had been happy about what had happened between he and Mickey but for the next couple of days he seemed to feel a little less mopey - or sorry for himself as Lip referred to it. He still found it hard to stop thinking about Mickey but it wasn't as annoying. Mostly, he pictured the way the guy had looked at him after they had kissed the last time and that kiss... it still made his heart pound every time he thought about it. Which was every five minutes.
That was actually what he was doing that afternoon when Kiera strolled into the Kash and Grab and hopped onto the counter. She had on a jumper that was way too big for her, he recognised that it was Lips after a few seconds of wondering why it looked so familiar, and a floral skirt that seemed to be one of her favourites.
She beamed down at him but offered no explanation about why she was there. The Kash and Grab was straight up boring, not exactly a place people were desperate to hang out at. "Can I get you something?" he asked.
Shaking her head, she slid off the counter gracefully and faced him. "Oh, no. I came to see how you were. How are you?"
Ian nodded his head. "I'm fine," he answered, watching as she looked around the counter top and then bent forward a little to look behind it. "Sure you don't need anything?" he asked, now really confused.
Her eyes met his and she smirked, cupping his cheek. "You're out of Cheetos," she said simply which basically answered his question in a roundabout way.
How she even knew that was weird because she hadn't looked down any of the aisles since she'd entered, but Ian didn't question it. He got up and went out back to the store-room to get a few packs.
When he returned she was sat on the seat behind the counter, her hair that was now almost down to her ass because it grew an inch every week or something crazy like that, was spread across the counter as her head rested on it. She was messing about with the till and Ian looked at her quizzically before shaking his head and dropping a bag of Cheetos onto her head.
She laughed to herself then sat up, smiling. "How do you work these things? I've always wanted to know." Ian pushed a few of the buttons and the till opened much to her genuine amazement. "Oh shit, that's cool," she sighed out. Ian let her mess around with it because it was a Sunday afternoon and, including Kiera, he'd only served eleven people so far. That and Linda was out with the kids so wouldn't kill him for it.
He was on the opposite side of the counter to Kiera, who was still heavily engrossed in messing about with the till, when the door flew open making his plaid shirt flap about. Mandy all but dragged Mickey inside who looked like he'd be more comfortable in a gay bar than where he currently was. Mandy smiled at him then told Mickey to get some Pringles. He left with a huff and scowl.
Mandy and Kiera shared a strange look and before Ian could make even a little sense of it, Kiera rushed out from behind the counter and joined Mandy outside. She slammed the door shut and, fuck, she locked it!
Ian looked down at the handle with wide eyes and shook it, trying to open it. "Kiera, what the fuck? Open the door!" He knew she hadn't been there simply to see how he was but he didn't think it had been a part of some twisted plan to trap he and Mickey together. And when did she get sneaky enough to steal the key? Ian blamed Lip for that. Kiera was getting smarter by the day.
The two girls looked smug and completely amused at what they had done. Ian was not and he knew Mickey wouldn't be. Kiera shook her head and mouthed the word no slowly.
Just on cue, Mickey rocked up beside him and shoved him out of the way. Slamming his hands against the door, he growled, actually growled like a wild animal or something. "You fucking bitches, open the fucking door! Kiera, I swear to God..." he trailed off, staring at her hard.
"We'll see you in a couple hours," Mandy shouted as they turned to walk away.
So, he was going to be locked inside the Kash and Grab with a less than happy Mickey for two hours. How could this possibly get worse?