The following day everyone from the Gallagher house was at work or school. Ian was still staying there, there so he asked Mickey to come by.

When he arrived, Mickey stepped past Ian into the living room and looked around.

We've got the place to ourselves," Ian confirmed. He recalled a time when this information would have meant the frantic removal of clothes and a quick fuck while they had the chance without anyone catching them, and he revelled in the fact that they had progressed from that. Then he got a surprise yet again.

Mickey turned back towards him, reached out and took hold of his arm just above the elbow and kissed him.

There was nothing forceful or frantic about it and Mickey wasn't trying to lead anywhere with this kiss either. Just a gentle press of lips and a little touch of tongues – a lovers' greeting.

As they pulled apart a fraction, Ian smiled, "Hi."

Mickey grinned back, but he held on to Ian's arm for a few moments longer and they both savoured the contact.

When Mickey finally dropped his hand, Ian got them both a drink and they sat down in the living room, Ian on the sofa and Mickey in the armchair.

"So," Mickey started, but said nothing else.

"So." Ian answered.

"Is... did... what?" Mickey couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence. "Fuck."

Somehow though, Ian knew what Mickey was asking. "We've talked the last couple of days. And we'll probably talk again. There's a lot of stuff to work out. But she knows we want very different things"

Mickey snorted, "Seems really you both kinda want the same thing."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Not now, Mickey."

"Sorry." It was clear that Mickey was nervous.

"Anyway, I explained as much as I could. That I wanted her to have a life with someone that could give her what she wanted."

Mickey cleared his throat anxiously.

"I could hear myself speaking and it all sounded so fucking clichéd," Ian continued. "God, it totally sucked."

"Are you sure that it's what you wanted? I mean, if it was so shitty..." Mickey trailed off, looking away.

"Yes," Ian's nod was definite. "Absolutely it was the right thing to do. I just wish she didn't have to get hurt."

Mickey looked at Ian. "I'm sorry."

"No I'm sorry." Ian met his eyes. "and I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"Fuck it," Mickey shrugged. "What's a couple days?"

"I'm not talking about these past few days Mickey."

Mickey took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and drew one out. Ian noticed his hands were shaking as he lit it, but he didn't say anything. Mickey took a couple of drags then held it out towards Ian with his thumb and middle finger. The action was so familiar, so right, that Ian smiled fondly at him as he took it.

"What you smiling for, Firecrotch?"

Ian choked out a laugh in the middle of an inhale, the smoke coming out of his nose and mouth. "Wow. You haven't called me that in a long time!"

"Yeah, well. Figured I've got some lost time to make up for," Mickey grinned.

Ian moved as near to Mickey as he could get on the couch. "I've missed you. I don't know how I didn't realise it before. Why it took this" Ian gestured around himself with his arms, "to come to my senses. Maybe..." he was thoughtful for a moment, "Maybe it was my subconscious giving me the all-clear when your dad was finally out of the way?"

"Ha!" Mickey's laugh was sarcastic. "Well he's definitely out of the way now. He got knifed in jail."

Ian was momentarily stunned. Terry was a sick son of a bitch, but although he wouldn't outwardly wish death on anyone, he couldn't say he wasn't glad. Still, this was Mickey's dad. "Shit. Mickey, I'm... I'm sor-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare say you're sorry." Mickey snatched the cigarette back. "He almost killed me. I don't give a flying fuck about him and neither should you. Iggy said he'd take care of it. It's done."

For a brief second. Ian wondered what exactly Iggy had taken care of, then decided he was probably better off not knowing. All he did know was that with Terry gone, there really was nothing in their way now. The only other person that was stopping them before had been Mickey. Maybe this time they really could make a go of it.

"Penny for 'em?" Mickey asked.

Ian gave a low chuckle, "Oh my thoughts are worth gold right now."

Mickey raised his eyebrows, "Oh really?" He stood and moved towards Ian, leaning to stub out the cigarette as he did so.

Ian watched Mickey's grinning face. He tried his best to keep his cool, despite the fact that he could feel his skin heating up all over his body. He lowered his head.

Mickey reached and tilted Ian's chin up, forcing eye contact. "Oh I remember that blush, "he said. "It always leads to something good."

Ian coughed lightly, nervous, and thankful suddenly thankful that Mickey at least appeared to have his wits about him as he couldn't seem to concentrate.

Mickey leaned in close, licking his lips. Ian tracked the movement.

"You gonna tell me then?" Mickey asked, his voice thick with lust and anticipation.

Ian looked into Mickey's eyes. Their faces were so close together now that he had to look at each eye separately to actually see them both. They were hooded and the blue of his irises was almost completely obscured by the black of his pupil. Perhaps Mickey wasn't as in control as he seemed to be letting on. It emboldened Ian a little. "Maybe I should make you guess."

Mickey swallowed, and the sound was so loud in the otherwise empty room. "Yeah?"

There was a split second where neither of them moved, but Ian was sure Mickey must be able to see his pulse beating out of his neck. Then he grabbed Mickey's shirt and pulled.

He fell against the back of the couch, bringing Mickey down on top of him. Mickey was off-balance for just a second before he recovered. He rearranged himself, holding his upper body up over Ian's, his forearms trembling a little under the strain.

Ian couldn't wait any longer. He lifted himself right into Mickey's personal space, wound a hand round the back of his neck and kissed him. The effort of pushing himself up with one arm and his stomach muscles effectively holding him in place made the kiss messy and ineffectual, but it got his point across.

Their teeth banged together in their desperation to get to each other, and Mickey straddled Ian's thighs, put his arms around him and pulled him up to make the kiss deeper.

They stopped to take a breath and managed to get other's shirts off, Ian's dog-tags swinging up in the material and getting caught around his ear. While he was sorting them, Mickey stepped off briefly and began tugging at Ian's jeans.

"Off," he muttered. "Now. It'll only get harder later."

"Ha! That's what he said." Ian laughed, then mentally kicked himself for making a ridiculous joke, and simultaneously yanked at the fly of his jeans as fast as he could.

"Yours too," he nodded in the direction of Mickey's lower half as pulled his jeans down.

Mickey palmed himself through the denim. "Not yet," he said.

He then proceeded to pull Ian's down carefully over his half-hard cock. He pushed them down to his ankles, Ian kicked them away and Mickey climbed back into his lap.

For a few seconds, Mickey gave a Ian a good look over, like he was memorising him. Or remembering. The he leaned forward, took a hold of what little hair Ian had and pushed his head back, bending to suck at Ian's neck.

"This what you were thinking?" he murmured.

Ian gasped and let out a low whine – a noise he'd never heard himself make before. Mickey was sucking a bruise into the spot on his neck where his pulse was racing. It felt like he was marking his territory and it was overwhelming.

When Mickey sat back, Ian moved to touch the sting that was left behind, but Mickey circled Ian's wrist before he could get to it and pinned his arm down by his side.

He rolled his hips and Ian groaned. Mickey grinned, obviously enjoying the effect he was having. He leaned down and licked a stripe up the centre of Ian's chest. The angle looked awkward and uncomfortable, but somehow still sexy. Ian felt like he was burning up and wondered if he actually tasted hot. As Mickey moved to take a nipple into his mouth, Ian rolled his head back, and when Mickey bit down, gently, Ian sucked in a hissing breath.

"Was it that?" Mickey asked, resting his chin on Ian's chest whilst adjusting the rest of his body until he was kneeling on the floor between Ian's legs.

As he shifted across to the other nipple, licking it, he moved his hands to Ian's underwear that was still in the way and tugged. Ian lifted his hips to give him better access, and then his cock was free. He instinctively went to touch himself since Mickey had let go of his hands, but Mickey pinned down his hand again.

Pre-come was already pooling at the tip of his cock, and Mickey licked his lips as he moved closer. Ian could feel Mickey's breath, the warm air making his cock twitch with anticipation.

Mickey wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, this time the action seeming more erotic than anything else. He glanced up at Ian, and gave him a half-smile.

"I think this is what you had in mind, wasn't it?" he said, and before Ian could respond, Mickey had Ian's cock in his mouth.

Ian almost choked on his breath as it felt like the air was being forced out of him. He'd forgotten how amazing Mickey's mouth felt and it was like a blow to the stomach, but the good kind. As Mickey built up a rhythm using his free hand to stroke along with his mouth, Ian was trying to think of something - anything - to stop himself from coming just from the memory of it.

Mickey brought Ian's hand that he'd been holding down and placed it firmly on the back of his own head. Ian immediately wound his fingers into the short, dark hair. He recalled Mickey enjoying having his hair tugged a little and he did it now, just once. Mickey hummed his approval and the vibrations made Ian buck his hips further towards Mickey's face.

"Shit. Sorry," Ian was immediately contrite, but Mickey just pushed Ian's hand deeper into his hair, and swallowed around his cock.

When Ian felt Mickey's throat constricting around him, it was as if all the tension that he'd been holding on to for the last few weeks had built up inside and was finally ready to be released. It seemed only fitting that he was literally releasing it with Mickey.

As Ian's balls tightened up and he felt the familiar static feeling all over his skin, his hips started jerking a little erratically. He didn't have time to think about pulling out of Mickey's mouth like he used to, because Mickey gripped his hips – so hard there would definitely be bruises – and held him in place as he came in Mickey's mouth.

He let out some stuttered noises that to anyone else might have sounded like he was dying, and he had a fleeting thought that maybe he was. But then he opened his eyes and Mickey was grinning up at him like he'd just won some sort of prize and he smiled back, a little drowsy.

He gestured for Mickey to come closer. Mickey knelt up and when he got near enough, Ian kissed him, tasting himself and Mickey's own flavour mingled. He sighed out a shuddering breath.

"Okay?" Mickey asked.

Ian nodded, eyes closed.

Climbing onto the couch beside him, Mickey laughed quietly. "As fun as guessing can be, Ian, next time just tell me what you're thinking."

Afterwards, they lay together on the couch - Mickey resting between Ian's thighs, head on Ian's cold sweat-slicked chest, and Ian's arm draped possessively across Mickey's chest.

Ian bent his head and dropped a chaste kiss on the top of Mickey's head. Mickey reflexively shifted back against him.

"Thanks," Ian murmured into Mickey's hair.

Mickey turned his head slightly towards the sound of Ian's voice. "You thanking me for a blow job right now?"

Ian laughed and slapped Mickey where his hand rested.

Mickey let out a soft "ow" but Ian could hear the smile in it.

"No! Well, not just for that. I'm thanking you because...," he paused.

Mickey sat up. "Jesus, Gallagher, spit it out!"

"Because you didn't give up on me, I guess."

Mickey stayed silent for a moment. He started to reach for his cigarette pack again, his security blanket at times like this, but then thought better of it. He let out a long breath through pursed lips.

"Okay. Here we go," he started, grabbing his shirt from the floor where it had ended up, "And listen up, because if you ever hear me talk like this again, I'll be needing you to fuckin' shoot me in the head," The words were muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Right?"

Ian chuckled, but Mickey wasn't laughing.

"When you went to Afghanistan," he continued, "I spent nearly every day in that damned store looking in the papers and checkin' online to see if you'd been killed. Then when I found out you'd come home, somehow I kidded myself into thinking you'd come and find me. That I still meant something to you."

Ian shifted slightly in his seat, surprised and moved by this abrupt and curse-free honesty.

"When I heard about you getting married, I think that's when I lost it. I used Mandy as an excuse to get back in contact with your brother, because I just wanted to hear any news about you that I could, but Lip was so fuckin' tight-lipped – yeah sorry about the pun – he never mentioned you at all."

Ian was wide-eyed at the confesstion. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he thought you deserved to get over me. I guess even Lip thought I'd married Vicki on the rebound."

"And did you?" Mickey looked hopeful.

"I... I guess..."

Mickey shook his head, "It's not important. Like I said, I lost it. I started going out a lot, ended up with a shit-ton of random guys," Ian inwardly cringed, "just because I needed to feel something. It was just so fuckin' empty though. I just missed you. I guess you never forget your first."

That through Ian for a loop. "Whoa. Wait. What?! What are you telling me?"

"Come on, Gallagher. You know what I'm saying." Mickey actually looked a little embarrassed.

Ian shook his head in disbelief. "You're telling me... I was your first?"

"Well, not counting girls – second technically. I don't count the actual first one though – he was just a means to an end." Mickey looked right at Ian. "I mean, he wasn't you, you know?"

Ian could actually feel his chest started to ache – in a really good way. He figured the feeling was pride. He was searching for the right words to say when Mickey interrupted his thoughts.

"I don't what you're being so quiet for. It's not like you were Mr I'm-So-Experienced when we started up."

"No!" Ian grabbed his arm. "No. That's not it. That's not what I'm thinking. Not at all. Believe me."

He pulled Mickey towards him and into a tight hug. He realised he was still naked, but he couldn't mind being so vulnerable. Not when Mickey was doing the same. He nuzzled into Mickey's neck for warmth, and inhaled deeply.

"Hmm. Maybe we should take a shower," Ian suggested and as he said the words his phone started to ring.

Mickey glanced at it where it lay face down on the floor by the couch. "Just ignore it."

After six rings, it rang off, but started again almost immediately.

"Shit. I'd better get it," Ian reached for the phone and Mickey sat up reaching and passing Ian's shirt to him.

"Hello?" There was silence in the room apart from Ian's acknowledgement of whoever was on the other end. When he hung up, he pulled his shirt on.

"Well?"

Ian looked a little unsure. "That was Fiona," he said. "Reese had the baby."