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After Mickey had spent an hour of absent-mindedly watching tv, Mandy and Kiera walked through the front door, seeming to be in the middle of a conversation. They had brown paper bags in their arms held against their chests that were overflowing with groceries. Upon seeing them, Mickey stretched his neck, attempting to look at what the bags contained, but frustratingly he failed. Mandy pulled the Pringles out of one of the bags and waved it at him, her expression slightly amused. Mickey simply nodded.
The two girls spent a little while - though for Mickey it was too long, he was freaking the fuck out and, unfortunately, at least to him, he needed to talk with Kiera - sorting out the groceries in the kitchen, laughing and giggling as they did so. Mickey was already irritable, he was even when nothing was happening, but the sounds of them in the kitchen, carefree and happy, were threatening to send him over the edge. Luckily, Kiera walked into the living room not long after. The two of them waited for Mandy to go to her room before they struck up conversation.
With her little legs crossed and her hands in her lap holding down her skirt, Mickey thought Kiera looked like a little schoolgirl or something. Not even a slutty one. She raised her eyebrows at Mickey and widened her eyes. Mickey understood that that was his cue to speak, but seriously, he had no fucking clue what to say. Not even five minutes ago he was getting angry because he couldn't talk and here he was, mouth open, completely silent like some damn mute.
With a loud sigh, Kiera rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, you strange little boy," she muttered to herself. "What did Ian say?" she asked slowly, enunciating dramatically.
Mickey frowned at her. Annoyed. Offended. Neither, really. "Yeah," he replied, finally finding his voice.
Kiera tucked a long - too long if you asked Mickey - strand of her hair behind her ear. "Right, okay. Well, that's good, isn't it?"
"Oh, right yeah, now all I have to do is set up a fuckin' date," he complained. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. Yes, he was getting worked up over fuck all, but Mickey had never been on a date in his whole, not exactly long, life. To him, it felt like he was doing too many things for the first time and though to other people none of it would have been something even remotely close to a big deal, it was to Mickey. It all was. So many things were different; he was different; his entire life felt like it was different. No dad, no brothers, less fear, less fighting and breaking the law, less dumb as fuck need to make his dad somewhat proud, Kiera, Ian, fucking Louis and Lip. It should have made him feel at ease, happier even. And it did at times. But that isn't to say there wasn't always that darkness looming over him; that warning telling him to not get too comfortable, too content, because his life was destined to be a series of fuck ups followed by more fuck ups. Just was. None of it ever left his mind, though. How could it? It all made sense in his head; none of it was questioned. If he said anything, asked what it meant, or God help him, asked for advice, it would be out of his hands and into someone else's. Most likely Kiera's. And it's not like she wouldn't be able to make sense of it, she made sense of everything, but Mickey wasn't prepared to share that with anyone. Not even with Ian when he was too blissed out to give a shit about what he said. Things were changing and Mickey wasn't used to it. So maybe, just maybe, his freaking out was justified. At least he thought so.
Nodding her head, Kiera slid off the couch and crawled across the carpet, stopping in between Mickey's legs. "Listen," she started, resting her forearms on Mickey's thighs, sending memories of getting sucked off by Ian racing through his mind. So not fucking helpful. "This isn't even a real date, you're just hanging out, you've done that so many times before, why is this any different? Oh, because you had to ask him first?" And if that had come from anyone else, Mickey would have been feeling incredibly pathetic right then, but Kiera had a way of talking that rarely left him feeling nothing but understood. He fucking hated it and it always made him think of Dr. Harris, strangely enough.
Mickey shrugged and looked down at her. "Feels like a lot of fuckin' pressure," he ground out, looking down at her calm eyes.
"Unnecessary pressure, though. You get that, right? All you need to do is do what you were doing before Mandy found out," she instructed, drumming her fingers against the inside of his thigh, her natural reaction to having her hands on a surface. Her hand suddenly clamped down on him and all expression vanished from her face. "No. Sex."
Squirming under her hold, Mickey nodded his head and when that wasn't enough to make her let go he spoke. "Alright, fuck," he gasped, head hitting the cushion behind when she released him. "Bitch," he grunted, "why the hell not? It ain't like we haven't before. Or, oh, am I not supposed to fuck on the first date?" he asked, mockingly.
"Fine, have sex, don't have sex, whatever. Just promise me you'll talk. Please?"
She had no right to sound like that, Mickey thought, no right to sound so fucking sad. It was horrible and just not needed. And Mickey couldn't stand it when she sounded like that, so needy and as young as the girl she dressed like. That, and she was trying to make him make a promise. Christ, another first. "Yeah, whatever," he said quickly, just so she'd back off.
After that Kiera continued to go on about what people tend to do on dates, like Mickey was a fucking idiot and didn't already know - he told her just that. She also ran to her room and came back with a black backpack filled with dvds in plastic wallets that she obviously didn't get from a store, telling him to take his pick and that she and Mandy were out for the night so that he and Ian had the place to themselves. Mickey was thankful for that but kept it to himself.
The two of them watched tv for a while before Kiera abruptly shot off the couch and left in a flurry, shouting something about being late to meet Lip or some shit that Mickey couldn't care less about. He glanced at his phone - he had just under an hour before Ian was due to come round. That was okay, it was fine. He'd successfully calmed himself down and it was fine.
Mandy, in what Mickey had told her was a shirt, not a fucking dress to be worn without jeans, strolled out of her room and into the hallway, bag over her shoulder. Mickey waited for whatever snide remark she was going to throw his way. He didn't have to wait long.
Rolling her heavily made up eyes, Mandy put one hand on her hip. "Change your shirt," she ordered, "nobody likes to fuck hobos."
Though she had a point - Mickey was still in his filthy work clothes - Mickey still retorted "seems to work for you" with a raised eyebrow.
She scowled at him and drop her hand to her side like she was already tired of the conversation. "Whatever, assface, just don't fuck this up." She walked away to the door and left, but not before yelling "or else you'll have to go back to your right hand!"
Annoyed as he was, he did as she said, changing into his prefered dark t-shirt and jeans. He even sprayed on some deodorant because it couldn't do any harm, could it? He wasn't making a fucking effort or anything, even though he did half-assedly tidy his, then the living room.
Boredom quickly set in again, the kind that can't be chased away with tv shows, so Mickey took Kiera's laptop from her room and proceeded to play shitty games on it until there was a knock on the door. He almost didn't hear it, so heavily engrossed in his game of Pacman but eventually he got up and answered.
I'm so fucked, Mickey thought to himself when he saw Ian stood there, little smile on his face. Everything he was wearing Mickey loved - those light skinny jeans, dark plaid shirt over a grey t-shirt - and he knew for a fact he had never said that aloud, so really, what the fuck? Was he that obvious?
Shaking out of his horny daze, Mickey stood to the side, allowing Ian to come inside and then closed the door.
"Pacman?" Ian asked once he was on the couch with the laptop resting on his thighs. "You have an addiction," he murmered as he began to play it himself.
Playfully, Mickey told him to fuck off and then got a couple of beers from the fridge.
It was stupid, but he didn't know how close he should sit next to Ian. He didn't want to get too close but then he also didn't want to be on the other end of the couch. He settled for the latter and turned his attention to the bag of films, rummaging through it like he hadn't checked what each film was an hour ago.
A laugh startled him and when he looked, Ian was shaking his head and smiling to himself.
"The fuck?" Mickey asked, puzzled.
Ian put the laptop onto the coffee table and faced him. "Why are you so far away and pretending that I don't exist? That's usually the opposite of what people do on a date, just so you know," he said, smug.
Mickey froze. He'd been hoping that Ian would think this was just a casual hang out, but no. He moved slightly closer to Ian but not all that much and judging by the guy's unimpressed expression, it wasn't enough. Mickey gave him a quick once-over. "You want me in your fuckin' lap?" he asked sarcastically, not that he'd mind if Ian said yes.
He didn't, but his smirk didn't exactly say no, so Mickey moved closer still so that their thighs touched and shoved the bag of films in Ian's lap, telling him to choose.
"I'm glad you asked me over," Ian blurted out, like he couldn't control his mouth and when Mickey looked at him he had his head in the bag but had stopped moving. "I know you're not used to doing stuff like this and I know it's weird and new for you, but still you did it anyway. For me."
"Well, yeah," Mickey said, like it was the most obvious thing. It really wasn't.
Ian's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he spoke again, this time looking at him. "You know I forgive you, right? You were scared and yeah, you did a shitty thing but it wasn't really you."
"It was fuckin' dumb," Mickey admitted, unable to look Ian in the eye.
"Yeah," Ian agreed. "And you're never gonna do it again because I can't have Debs trying to give me advice on how to get a new boyfriend."
Mickey's eyes bugged and his mouth shot open. "Wh..."
"She's smarter than you think and more trustworthy and loyal than anyone I know. Relax," Ian told him and Mickey didn't think he was lying so he did relax. A little.
Mickey ran a thumb across his bottom lip and watched Ian watch the movement. "Tell her she can stop now." Mickey's heart began to speed up. Now was the time for Ian to say no, to reject him and Mickey wouldn't have been surprised if he did so. He wasn't exactly worthy.
A smile spread across Ian's face and he quickly turned back to the bag on his lap, embarrassed. "Will do," he said quietly. A couple of seconds passed before Ian looked at him again, brows furrowed. "Wait. Does that mean you're actually my boyfriend? Like, for real?"
Mickey shrugged casually. Not like that would shut Ian up, but still.
"Mickey," Ian said and it sounded so desperate and his face was so open. All of his emotions on display right in front of Mickey's eyes.
"Fuck, yes, alright."
"You know that means you have to act like it. Like, not treating me like shit and pushing me away," Ian explained.
Mickey sighed hard. "Yes," he snapped, "and I don't fuckin' intend on doing either of those things so choose a damn movie already, alright?"
Ian nodded happily and hooked one leg over Mickey's. "In that case, Fiona'll be expecting you at dinner tomorrow," he informed him.
Christ, he shouldn't have expected anything less. They were Gallaghers after all. But he could probably, maybe, survive dinner. There were so many of them, not all of their attention could be focussed on him. He fucking hoped not anyway. "Whatever," he said.
Once Ian chose Pulp Fiction to watch, Mickey ordered pizza and they settled. Mickey answered Ian's questions about work and Ian answered questions about what he'd been up to that he hadn't actually been asked. It felt so good to hear Ian talk without having to worry. Mickey could sit back and listen to Ian go on about whatever shit he was talking about, his voice rising whenever there was a gunshot in the film.
Ian suddenly stopped talking and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back so that he wasn't facing Mickey and the leg that was over Mickey's was gone; so fucking dumb that he missed it. "Shit, I've been talking so much," Ian said to himself.
"I like it," Mickey admitted before he could stop himself.
That smile was back on Ian's face only this time, he was looking at Mickey. His eyes flickered from his lips to his eyes then back to his lips and stayed there. Mickey licked them involuntarily and mentally urged Ian to get the fuck on him and put his own to good use. Only, he wasn't getting the hint so Mickey took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He grabbed a handful of Ian's shirt and pulled him closer, pulled him so that he sat up and straddled Mickey's thigh. His pupils were blown and his hands were already making their way up from Mickey's chest to the back of his neck and really, Mickey didn't need to be told what to do next. His hands tightened their grip on Ian's hips and he reached up and caught Ian's lips with his own. Fuck. It had been too long, way too long since he'd had Ian like this. Their drunken one night stand didn't count for he could barely remember that. But this, this was real and it was happening because they both wanted it. Mickey wanted to be biting at Ian's bottom lip, making him moan and Ian wanted him to, Mickey knew it. Finally he could touch Ian the way he always wanted to, no matter what was happening. Finally he could push his hands up under his shirt and touch the warm skin of Ian's waist. Finally.
A shiver shot down his spine when he felt a hand go for his flies. He pulled back and looked up at Ian, his lips kiss swollen and red.
Ian swooped down, his hand still at Mickey's jeans only now it was teasingly moving over his semi. "What's wrong?" Ian fucking purred right in his ear, voice so low that Mickey had to bit his lip so he didn't moan at the sound of it. "Don't you fuck on the first date?"
And that stripped away any self-control Mickey might've had. Christ, the things this guy fucking did to him.
It all happened so fast and easily. Clothes were stripped away from bodies, thrown away just to get them as far from on as possible. They were a jumble of limbs, moving about with each other trying to get into position.
Mickey ended up on his knees and forearms, his face smushed against cushions. Smiling because he could and because right then, nobody could see him.
One second Ian's hands were stroking his back slowly, softly, and the next they holding onto his hips, fingers digging in so deep that Mickey didn't think he'd ever forget the feeling. All he could hear was the mixture of the grunts and the moaned words that steamed from his and Ian's mouths: loud, unashamed, and utterly desperate. Mickey was lost, so completely lost. He couldn't think and he could hardly hold himself up; so wrapped up in how good it felt to have Ian inside of him, hitting the perfect spot with almost every thrust.
There was no warning, nothing. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's stomach and pulled him so that his back was against Ian's sweaty chest. The sudden movement startled Mickey but, fuck, did that feel good. He arched into it and as one hand covered Ian's on his hip, the other snaked round Ian's neck. And not once did Ian stop moving, not even when Mickey turned his head and pressed kisses against his neck then crushed his lips against Ian's, rough and eager. Ian's movement's only momentarily slowed and in turn, their lips did the same; gently licking into each other's mouths.
Mickey didn't ever think that someone sweetly kissing the back of his neck could make him come, but that's exactly what it did and when he squeezed down around Ian that did it for him.
They fell forwards; tired and sweaty but totally satisfied. Mickey didn't care that Ian had managed to elbow him in the back on their way down. He could have fucking stabbed him in the back and Mickey wouldn't have given a shit. All was right.