
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1311769.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shameless_(US)
  Relationship:
      Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich
  Character:
      Ian_Gallagher, Mickey_Milkovich, Mandy_Milkovich, Terry_Milkovich, Carl
      Gallagher, Debbie_Gallagher, Kev_Ball, Frank_Gallagher, Liam_Gallagher,
      Fiona_Gallagher, Karen_Jackson, Lip_Gallagher
  Additional Tags:
      jerking_off, Homophobia, Drug_Use, terry_milkovich_is_the_worst_father
      ever_theres_nothing_redeeming_about_him, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be
      Added, handjobs, Semi-Public_Sex, Mutual_Masturbation, Blow_Jobs,
      homophobic_violence, Fingering, Shower_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-14 Completed: 2014-05-02 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 27939
****** We Only Own Our Hell (You Don't Know Me That Well) ******
by trueamericanwolf
Summary
     Mickey and Ian meet when they both ditch class, only they just smoke
     weed and talk, but Mickey can't seem to get Ian out of his head.
Notes
     so this is unedited and sorry in advance if there are a shit ton of
     mistakes. i dont know how long im planning this but i just want to
     write mickey/ian all the days of my life!
***** the start to a friendship? *****
Mickey’s arm is out in front of him, gripping the tile wall as the warm water
pounds on his head. His grip is tight as he tugs at himself, letting out moans,
because he can with the shower loud enough to drown it out. His hand is all
lubed up with soap and it feels fucking great; he bites his lower lip and
tenses up as he comes, standing on his tip toes, grip tightening and slowing
down as he jerks forward, letting out a groan.
He lets his head fall back, opening his mouth and spitting the water out as his
hand drops to his side, his hard on already going back down. He needed that.
Fuck. After the week he had, having to beat some fucking shit head who kept
trying to get at Mandy, and from having to dodge around his drunk dad, who also
tried to get at Mandy.
Fucking sick bastard. He always mistakes Mandy for their mom, who died years
ago, whenever he’s drunk. Good thing Mandy knows well enough to tell him to
drink some more, that way he can pass out and not go any further, because if
anything did escalate, well Mickey would have no qualms with killing his
father.
People in the neighborhood all say that Frank Gallagher is the worst father but
if they actually were in his house with his dad, well they would change that
around real quick. Difference is, his dad isn’t drunk 24 fucking 7 and isn’t
substituting anything for his liquor, unlike Frank. Fuck, Mickey walked in on
Frank blowing a dude once for a dime of coke.
Frank Gallagher is a fucking mess. But Mickey’s dad, he’s the worst father.
“Don’t be such a fucking pansy,” his dad would tell him when he was 5 years
old. “Oh, you scraped your knee? Well only faggots cry.”
Mickey learned quickly not to cry in front of his dad, and when he started
getting these weird feelings when he would see guys shirtless, or watch a porn
and end up staring at the guy, well he would tell himself over and over again
that he’s not gay, can’t be gay. Terry wouldn’t accept it, and probably kill
Mickey.
So, he jerks off.
Besides the fact that it feels fucking great, it calms him down. He tries not
to think about anything while he does it, tries to solely focus on that feeling
at the end and how all his tension will leave, but if he sometimes thinks about
men, well that’s okay. As long as he never acts on it, admits it, or makes it
remotely known.
Which is why he sleeps around. A lot.
Mostly, he’s drunk when he does it. Because, even though he can get hard and
fuck a girl, he likes it better when he’s intoxicated. Makes it a little
easier.
He has a reputation of being a real ladies man. But really, he just fucks some
girls here and there, never calls them, never commits to a serious
relationship. Although, in this neighborhood, that’s what it means to be a man.
Be a drunk who sleeps around. Award winning block.
Mickey grabs the soap and scrubs himself down, almost going for a round two as
his hands work around his cock, gripping his balls and moving the soap slowly
over, already feeling himself getting hard again.
“Hey shit brain!” Mandy yells, banging on the door. “Some of us have to use the
bathroom too!”
And there goes his hard on, in the drain like the water.
He hops out of the shower, grabbing his towel and drying himself off, walking
out with it tied around his waist.
“It’s all your’s, bitch,” he says, laughing as he dodges Mandy’s fist’s coming
straight for him. “Easy, easy! You might make my towel fall!”
“So?” Mandy says, leaning on the doorframe, “and then what? We’d need a
magnifying glass to see anything.”
Mickey sticks up his middle finger and walks away, hearing the bathroom door
close behind her. He walks into his room, shuts the door and pulls off his
towel, letting the rest of him air dry as he grabs some boxers on the floor. He
gives them a sniff and they don’t smell bad, so they’re okay to wear. Grabbing
a pair of socks off the top of his dresser, he puts them on, feeling his big
toe sticking out of one of them.
He slips on his baggy blue jeans and his favorite shirt that says “It ‘aint
gonna suck itself” with an arrow pointing down. But, he has to cover it with a
coat. His plan for today is to skip school, go hang out behind the bleachers,
get high and be left alone.
As much as he loves beating the shit out of anyone who fucks with Mandy, and is
okay with his reputation of no one fucks with him, he does like to be alone.
Not like he writes some stupid ass poetry and reflects on anything, but the
quiet and relaxation is nice. Plus, if he actually showed up to class, his
teachers might have a heart attack.
He’s failing all his classes.
Mickey grabs a scarf and wraps it around him. One cool thing about living in
chicago is that you can wear a scarf and not be called a fag. If he lived in
California it would be another story; but here, it’s okay because it’s winter
and cold as fuck.
His dad is sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl in front of him filled with
cereal and he’s grumbling to himself. Mickey avoids talking with him and slips
out the front door, feeling the crisp air make his cheeks flush and his nose
already feel like an icicle.
Mickey shoves his hands into his pocket and starts walking; it hasn’t snowed
yet, but it’s only October, so it’s just the start. He can see his breath out
in front of him and he picks up his pace because walking faster will warm him
up.
About a block away from the school he can hear the bell ring for classes to
start. He walks around to the back of the school, hops the fence and rushes
across the field, dipping in between the bars underneath the bleachers and
going to his usual spot.
His pipe is underneath some rocks that he has hidden by the corner. No one ever
comes here. Mickey pulls his lighter out of his pocket and grabs his pipe,
clearing it to make sure it’s good to go.
He pulls out his baggie of weed that he keeps in his jacket pocket, on the
inside. Picking out the stems and filling his bowl to the top, he sits down and
smirks as he takes the first hit.
There’s a way he likes to smoke weed and it is not taking in as huge of a hit
as he can and coughing like crazy. No, he likes to breathe it in, hold it for
as long as he can and let it out smoothly. He let’s out a sigh of relief as he
can already feel himself calming down, a small grin plastered on his face.
He puts the pipe back up to his lips when he hears someone walking up behind
him. Mickey turns around and sees Ian Gallagher walking up to him, or maybe
just walking by to skip class also, because that would make more sense. He’s
never talked to Ian before.
Sure, he knows who he is because they live on the same block, and he’s a
Gallagher so, everyone knows that family, but he’s never bothered to ever talk
to any of the Gallaghers. They’re a pretty fucked up family.
“Hey,” Ian says, walking from behind Mickey to in front, nodding. Mickey nods
back, furrowing his brow because why the fuck is he standing there now. “You
mind if I hang out here for a bit? My older sister thinks I go to school
everyday and sometimes I do, but today isn’t a good day for me. Not really
feeling it.”
“There’s plenty of other places you can go squat and wait for school to be over
with,” Mickey says, because what the fuck?
“I know,” Ian admits, and Mickey isn’t getting why he isn’t leaving then. “Can
I take a hit?”
“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Mickey asks, letting out a small laugh and
wiping a hand from his mouth down to his chin. “You’re gonna just pop over and
try and smoke my weed?”
“No. I mean, yeah. But I can pick some up and bring you some more tomorrow, if
you’re gonna be here again?”
Is he assuming that Mickey is going to be totally fine with just sharing his
weed? Because, no. Even though he did offer to bring some for tomorrow, which
would actually be cool since Mickey is running low.
“You better fucking bring some tomorrow,” Mickey threatens, handing the pipe
over to Ian.
“I will,” Ian says, a smile lifting his face up as he puts the pipe to his
lips, and fuck, Mickey is starting to get gay thoughts.
He tries to think about tits and ass, but fuck, guys have asses too. He tries
to think about anything except Ian’s red lips on his pipe and the way he adam’s
apple is jutting out and the way his eyes are fluttering close as he takes in a
deep breath.
Ian starts coughing and that takes Mickey’s mind away from that train of
thought. Good.
Mickey laughs and grab the pipe from him, “bitch,” he says, as he puts the pipe
to his lip, sucking in clean and smooth.
“Fuck you,” Ian laughs, squatting down across from Mickey, cupping his hands
and holding them to his mouth. “It’s getting cold again.”
“Yeah, well it’s October,” Mickey says, letting the smoke that he had been
holding in. “Happens every fucking year.”
“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Ian says, reaching for the pipe, and Mickey doesn’t
hand it over.
“Who ever said I’d give you more than one hit? Besides you wasted it, fucking
coughing like a bitch.”
“Don’t be a fucking asshole, man,” Ian says, still with his hand out. “I
haven’t smoked in a while, ROTC and all kind of made me want to try to be
better.”
“Oh yeah?” Mickey sighs and hands it over, along with the lighter. “How’s that
working out for you?”
“Well,” Ian takes in a hit, closing his mouth and holding it in. “We’ve been in
school for a month,” smoke comes out as Ian talks, “and here I am.”
“What’s your sister gonna think?”
Mickey can see that he can cherry it and grabs the pipe, tapping the weed down
with his lighter and sucking in, watching it burn and feeling the smoke in his
throat, hot and harsh. He is not about to cough in front of Ian though; he
holds it in as long as he can and slowly lets it out, pretty pleased with
himself.
“Well she’s dealing with my dad, so she probably won’t really notice.”
Mickey can feel himself loosening up. His mouth is stuck on a permanent grin,
or at least it feels that way for him and he’s more relaxed than he’s been all
week.
“Frank, right?” Mickey says, putting the pipe down because he’s good with his
high, not caring if Ian is or not.
“Yeah,” Ian says, and looks down at his fingers, intertwining them together.
“You know him.”
“Walked in on him once blowing some dude for drugs. Sure he’s not a fag?”
Ian’s brows furrow at that word, or at least Mickey thinks they do, but his
face softens back up and Ian shakes his head, mumbling something to himself.
“Huh?” Mickey wants to know what the fuck it is he’s saying.
“That word,” Ian shakes his head again. “Nothing. No. My dad isn’t a fag.”
Something about the way he says it, makes Mickey look down and fiddle with his
scarf. He’s not sure why but he kind of feels guilty for using that word, or at
least maybe sorry if it offends Ian, but sucking another dude off is gay.
“Yeah, he’s just a mess,” Mickey says, looking back up and seeing Ian nod.
“I should go,” Ian says, already getting up.
“Alright,” Mickey nods at him and then remembers. “Don’t forget to bring weed
tomorrow, alright?”
“Okay,” Ian is already walking away.
“Hey I mean it, man, I know where you live! I’ll find you if you don’t bring me
some.”
And Mickey almost doesn’t recognize himself. Okay, yeah, Ian smoked some of his
weed but really it was 2 hits and Mickey isn’t even sure if he wants Ian to
show up again. Something about the way Ian seemed to get mad at him for saying
that confuses him, and he kind of liked the company, although he will never
admit that. And he still is high, so that must be why he is acting all sketched
out on himself. It has nothing to do with anything specific. He just needs to
go back to relaxing in the quiet and not thinking about anything because
thinking about things never ends up good.
His day goes by pretty slowly after that and when he gets home, he goes
straight to the bathroom. Tearing his clothes off like they’re on fire and hops
in the shower, not even waiting for it to get warm before his hands tight on
his cock, yanking at it like he needs it.
Jerking off is a way to relax, and also a way for him to not think.
But for some reason, Ian keeps popping up in his head as he leans his head
against the tile, cupping his balls in one hand as he jerks himself with the
other. Flashes of Ian’s mouth wrapped around the pipe and the way his eyes
closed as he inhaled and fuck, Mickey’s thinking of other things his mouth can
wrap around.
He’s desperate now, just wanting the end result, and when he finally comes, and
all the tension leaves his body, Ian is still in his mind, but he’s trying his
best to replace the thoughts with tits and think back to lesbian porn he’s
watched, which did nothing for him, but he hates to admit that to himself.
That night he can’t fall asleep and he keeps tossing and turning, thinks maybe
if he jerks off one more time he can calm down, but his eyes start to feel
heavy and he decides to just close his eyes and count until he can knock out.
The last thought he has before finally sleeping is wondering if Ian is actually
going to show up tomorrow with weed, and if them smoking together will become a
normal thing.
***** well fuck *****
Chapter Summary
     Mickey and Ian, well, they get a little familiar with each other to
     say the least.
Chapter Notes
     Welp, it's unedited so I'm sorry again! But, here's an update! I
     don't know how long this is gonna be to be honest, but this is just
     the beginning for sure, not saying it's gonna be this super long fic
     but this is definitely the beginning!! Hope you guys enjoy! :)
Mickey’s sitting down in his spot, and he hasn’t smoked a bowl yet, although he
wants to, but it’s more that he’s waiting. Waiting for Ian. First period is
well under way and Ian still hasn’t shown up, and Mikey’s annoyed. Scratch
that, he’s mad, and although he won’t admit it, he’s a little disappointed.
“Fuck him,” Mickey mutters to himself, grabbing the pipe and filling it.
Two bowls later and he can’t even enjoy his high; although, he is relaxed. It’s
just, well, he expected Ian to come and he hates getting his hopes up. He’s
definitely going over to the Gallagher’s house after school and Ian better have
a good excuse because no one fucks Mickey over. No one.
It’s an hour later, although Mickey doesn’t really know because time feels
slower when he’s high. The only reason it sucks getting high during a school
day, but really, he isn’t going to pass up feeling calm and relaxed all because
time feels slower. So yeah, it’s an hour later and Mickey’s head is leaning
back, his hands are shoved deep in his sweater pockets, trying to stay warm and
he’s watching his breath come out in front of him.
He does it slowly and watches the white air cloud in front of his face; it’s
fun to do, blow it out slowly and then quickly and watch the difference, the
way his breath clouds and then shoots out into the frosty air.
“Hey!” A voice calls from behind him, and Mickey turns, his reaction sure as
fuck isn’t as fast as it normally is, but he sees Ian trudging over. “Sorry,
man! Principal called my sister and shit and stuff with my dad but anyways, I
brought it.”
“Gallagher,” Mickey says, slow and he feels like he’s squinting so he opens his
eyes open as wide as he can; Ian starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
Ian squats down across from him, just like the day before, “you’re high
already, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, and?”
Ian pulls out a blue looking prescription pill container, unscrewing the top
and tilting it for Mickey to see inside. “I got my brother to get me some top
medical shit. But, since you’re already high, doubt you’ll wanna get completely
baked.”
“Do you even fucking know me?” Mickey says, rubbing his eyes and fuck, he feels
so chilled out. “I’m always good for getting high.”
“Alright,” Ian says, holding his hand out, “hand over the pipe and I’ll pack
it.”
Mickey hands it over and watches Ian picking the stems out, and pack it. His
index finger is long and he sticks it in the pipe and pushes the weed down and
how is this making Mickey hard? Because it is. It’s actually making him really
fucking hard.
“Fuck,” he groans out, and Ian looks up from his bowl, cocking his head and he
looks like he’s about to say something. “This high is just really good.”
Ian nods, and looks at the pipe, he must be a perfectionist because it’s a
fucking bowl of weed and he’s looking it over like he’s getting graded on it.
He pulls a lighter out of his own pocket and Mickey’s enjoying the fact that he
brought his own equipment. Mickey watches Ian intently as he takes his first
hit and his eyes close and flutter again and, fuck, is he going to do that
every time because that’s going to be distracting for Mickey.
“So,” Ian says, blowing the smoke out and grinning. “Did you think I bailed?”
“Yeah,” Mickey says, as Ian hands over the pipe, but Mickey’s good for now, and
he likes to watch Ian smoke, so he shakes his head no. “I was gonna come to
your house after school.”
“Seriously?” Ian comments, and he’s puffing in another hit and doing his eye
flutter.
“Well, I wasn’t about to let you fuck me over.”
“I don’t think anyone can fuck you over.” Ian has this stupid grin on his face
and Mickey just wants him to stop grinning like that. “I mean, I don’t really
have a death wish, nor do I want to die a virgin, so.”
“I wasn’t gonna kill you,” Mickey says, this time reaching his hand out
because, enough with watching, he wants to try this so called top medical shit.
“And virgin? Really?”
“Not everyone fucks anything,” Ian says, and he sounds a little irritated, but
he hands over the pipe and shakes his head and Mickey can see a small grin on
his face. “Not that I don’t want to, or I’m saving myself or any of that shit,
I just, well, it’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated?” Mickey asks, holding his lighter up and watching the
flame suck into the pipe, making the green flare red. Mickey holds it in,
feeling the heat in his chest and wow, Ian wasn’t lying, this is some good
shit; he blows out the smoke and his eyes feel heavy, and his mouth feels like
it’s stuck on permanent grin mode. “Just fuck someone.”
“Like it’s that easy,” Ian laughs, “just grab someone and fuck them, okay.”
“It is that simple, though.” Mickey hands the pipe over and smacks his mouth
open, licking his dry lips, hating cotton mouth.
“So just go up to someone and tell them to just get on their knees and suck me
off until I fuck them,” Ian says, deadpanned, and Mickey gulps, loud, and hopes
Ian didn’t hear. “I’ll let you know how that works out.”
“Please do,” Mickey laughs at the thought of someone’s reaction to that. “I’d
love to see you with a black eye after a girl decks you for that.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
They sit there quietly, passing back the pipe, but not saying anything. Mickey
fiddles with the hole on his sweater’s sleeve, which he’s actually making
bigger. He notices and stops, but his hands are tapping on his pant leg now,
and he isn’t sure why he can’t seem to sit still.
“So what’s your story?” Ian asks, and neither of them are smoking now, so Ian’s
hands are tucked tight in his pockets and his cheeks are flushed, breath
fogging out in front of him.
“The fuck?” Mickey says, because honestly, who asks something like that? “I
don’t know. You mean to tell me you haven’t heard stories about me?”
“Stories, sure,” Ian says, meeting Mickey’s gaze and Mickey can feel his eyes
shoot to the side, looking anywhere but at Ian’s because somehow that makes him
uneasy. “You’re an asshole. I mean, that’s what all the stories I hear say, but
those are stories told by people who aren’t you, you know? I doubt you’re as
bad as everyone makes you out to be.”
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.”
“So you mean to tell me you kill people and bury their bodies behind the subway
station?”
“Fuck,” Mickey laughs, “that’s what people say, huh?”
“Mainly just to incoming freshmen.”
“That’s fucking great,” Mickey thinks that is the best thing he’s heard in a
while. People telling incoming freshmen to be afraid of him, honestly,
beautiful. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Ian asks, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip, and fuck,
now it’s shining wet and Mickey want to just, well, he’s not going to finish
that thought.
“You have any crazy stories told about you?”
“A few,” Ian says, looking down at his feet. “Nothing like yours.”
“Oh yeah? What are they?” Mickey’s genuinely interested, especially since he
doesn’t show up to school so he never hears anything. This might be fun,
catching up on what get’s said at school.
“Nothing,” Ian looks up and meets Mickey’s gaze again, only this time Mickey
doesn’t look away. “Just stuff, that I know would freak you out.”
“Freak me out?” Mickey laughs, and then furrows his brow, because what the fuck
could freak him out. He’s Mickey Milkovich, nothing scares him. “Gallagher, I
don’t get scared easily, I ‘aint some bitch.”
“I know and that’s just it,” Ian breaks the stare and now he’s the one fiddling
with his clothes. Mickey doesn’t know what the fuck Ian is talking about, but
now he needs to know. “You, how do I word this. You, well, you just have this
personality and shit about you and I know you’d either dip out right after I
tell you or beat the shit out of me.”
Yeah, Mickey needs to know now.
“Okay?” Mickey gnaws at his lower lip. “I promise I won’t beat the shit out of
you, or whatever.” Ian just gives him this look, the type of look that tells
Mickey that Ian doesn’t believe him, so Mickey puts his right hand to his
heart. “I don’t go back on my word, okay? So as a Milkovich, I promise not to
beat the shit out of you.”
“Fuck,” Ian mutters to himself and then runs his hand through his hair,
“basically, well, people say I’m gay.”
“People say you’re a fudge packer?” Mickey starts to laugh, and he can’t help
it, but he thought it was going to be some horrible thing about something
fucked up, not a rumor about Ian getting dick in his ass. Fuck. Mickey’s
thinking about Ian bent over taking a dick and now he’s sporting a hard on; he
makes sure his coat is hanging over his pants.
“In less poetic terms, yes.”
“Well are you?” And Mickey wants to know, but he doesn’t at the same time. If
he knows, and he willingly hangs out with Ian, then rumors might start, and he
can’t have people thinking he’s gay, because if that get’s back to his dad
somehow, it can end badly. But at the same time, the thought of fucking Ian raw
is, well, he has to know.
Ian stays quiet and Mickey’s watching his eyes dart from side to side, and his
mouth opening but then closing, like he’s going to say something but can’t.
“Yes.”
Mickey can almost hardly hear it Ian says it so low, but he says it, and Mickey
hears it and now Mickey doesn’t know what to do. Does he say “cool” and act
like nothing or does he just leave? That’d be fucked up. But saying “cool”
would be weird, so he just nods up and down a few times, watching Ian look up
at him, probably waiting for a reaction.
“Alright.”
“Alright?”
“I don’t know what to say,” Mickey admits, and Ian half smirks, and Mickey
wants to punch the smirk right off him. “Don’t smirk.”
“I just, well, I expected you to like get up and leave or call me a faggot and
walk off,” Ian says, and the way he says it sounds like a huge weight has been
lifted off his shoulders. “I just didn’t think you’d be cool about it all?”
“To each their own, but I’m not gay,” Mickey states, and he’s not sure why he
even did, but he felt like he had to.
“Obviously,” Ian laughs, standing up and stretching. Mickey watches his sweater
rise, along with his shirt and he can see his white skin, with a trail of red
hair leading down and it gets cut off by his boxers, but Mickey can see veins
along his waist and he turns away, looking towards the ground.
He’s still hard.
“Hey!” A voice yells from the end of the bleachers, and Mickey bolts up,
realizing it’s security. “Don’t run!”
Before the security guard can even finish, Mickey is booking it, Ian right next
him. The cold air is sharp in his lungs and Ian is getting ahead of him; he can
hear the security guard charging after them, saying something, probably on his
walkie. They’re out of the back of the bleachers and to the fence at the end of
the football field, Ian is already jumping onto the chain link fence and
hopping over.
Mickey jumps and his fingers latch onto the chain, and it’s cold as fuck, but
he kicks his legs into the fence and works his way up, hopping over and onto
the concrete sidewalk on the other side, running down the street.
Once they’re a block away Mickey slows down and he’s heaving for air. Ian stops
and looks back at him, Mickey’s hands are on his knees and he’s bending down
catching his breath.
“ROTC helps with running away from security,” Ian says, and he doesn’t even
sound out of breath, that motherfucker.
“Smoking doesn’t,” Mickey says, letting a cough out, and standing back up,
walking up to where Ian is waiting for him.
“So what now?” Ian asks, and their walking side by side now, and it all seems a
little to weird for Mickey.
“I would say let’s hang out at my place but my dad’s home and he’s a piece of
shit,” Mickey says, not wanting to be seen walking around together.
“We could go chill at my house,” Ian says, and Mickey nods. “Frank might be
there but he’ll be passed out if he is so it won’t be a problem.”
They walk in silence to Ian’s house and Mickey knows where it is because they
live on the same block, and also, the cops are always showing up at the
Gallagher house. Every time it involves Frank. Ian opens up the door, and it’s
not locked, but Mickey figures there’d be no reason to since the Gallaghers
probably have nothing good to take.
They’re sitting on the couch, watching Maury, and Mickey isn’t sure what to say
or do. So he doesn’t say anything, just sits with his legs open, because that’s
how he always sits, and when his legs ends up against Ian’s he pulls it away.
“Dude,” Ian says, turning to him, “you’re not gonna catch gay if we touch.”
“I’m not stupid,” Mickey snaps, letting his leg relax and fall back where it
was, trying not to think of how it’s against Ian’s. “I just didn’t want you
thinking I was, nevermind.”
“Okay?” Ian turns back to the tv and Mickey looks at him, and nibbles on his
lower lip because he wants to do so many things right now, but he can’t. He
won’t let himself.
“Care if I switch the channel?” Mickey asks, grabbing the remote off the coffee
table, and Ian shakes his head no. Mickey starts flipping through the channels,
most of it is infomercials and soap operas, Mickey keeps flipping. Suddenly
there are tits on the screen and a girl moaning and she’s bent over and Mickey
doesn’t change it.
“Dude,” Ian says, reaching for the remote, but Mickey pulls his hand out and
Ian misses, his hand lands on Mickey’s thigh.
Mickey can feel himself getting hard, can feel Ian’s grip on his thigh, only
inches away from his cock, and he isn’t sure what he’s doing, but he doesn’t
pull Ian’s hand away or move. Instead, he finds himself smiling and leaning
back, watching the girl on the screen getting fucked.
Ian is looking from the tv to Mickey and back, but still hasn’t moved his hand;
Mickey figures he can probably feel his hard on and Mickey kind of wants to see
where this goes, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He should move away, switch
the channel, leave, do anything but sit leaning back while Ian’s hand is on his
thigh and porn is on.
Ian’s hand moves up just the slightest and Mickey keeps his gaze focused on the
tv, not looking at Ian, not looking down at the situation about to happen.
Mickey can feel Ian’s hand move a little bit further up and now it’s gripped on
his cock, and Mickey can hear Ian breathing heavily; Mickey lets out the
slightest groan as Ian starts to palm at it.
Ian grips Mickey’s cock and moves his hand back and forth against his jeans;
Mickey keeps his gaze focused solely on the tv because, he’s getting jerked off
by a guy, and he doesn’t really want to look down and accept it just yet.
But Ian’s moving faster now and Mickey can feel Ian’s other hand come over and
unbutton his pants; Mickey doesn’t stop it.
“Fuck,” he hears Ian groan as Ian unzips his pants, reaching in and roping his
hand around Mickey’s cock, gripping along and moving up and down.
Next thing Mickey knows his pants and boxers are around his knees and Ian’s
working his cock like he owns it; spitting into his hand and slicking it up,
his face leaning on Mickey’s shoulder, breath hot on Mickey’s neck.
Mickey leans his head back and holy fuck, he’s already going to come. He let’s
out a moan that he doesn’t even recognize and Ian picks up speed, tightening
his grip just a little and using his other hand to rub Mickey’s balls and fuck,
it feels amazing.
“I’m gonna,” is all Mickey can say before he’s tensing up and coming; Ian’s
rhythm slowing down, his grip tightening around his head and he slowly goes up
and down a few more times, making it last for Mickey.
“Fuck,” Ian groans, his face red, and his mouth slightly open, letting out a
groan himself.
Mickey snaps back into reality and realizes what just happened and looks down
at himself; come on his leg, Ian’s hand still gripping his dick, and Ian still
right next to his face, still breathing heavily.
“I have to go,” Mickey jumps up, yanking his jeans up and buttoning them
quickly, not looking back at Ian. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll kill
you.”
“Calm down,” Ian says, standing up and walking to the kitchen, washing his
hands off, “I won’t tell anyone,” Ian says over the water. “I know how much it
sucks to be outed when you’re not ready.”
“I’m not gay,” Mickey says, but he can hear his voice falter, can hear all the
doubt in it, and he doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to have this
discussion.
Before Ian can come back into the living room, Mickey is already out the door
and running down the street. Fuck, he just broke the one thing he always told
himself he wouldn’t do, let his thoughts turn into actions, and he did it with
one of his neighbors. A feeling of dread sweeps over him and he runs past his
house, and doesn’t stop.
He runs until his chest hurts so much he has to stop, but he doesn’t stop.
Mickey doesn’t know where he’s going, let alone what he’s doing, but he knows
he can’t go home right now. Somehow, his family will know, his dad will know,
and he’s fucking terrified.
***** it just happened *****
Chapter Summary
     Mickey may just have to go with it because each time is bringing on
     something new.
Chapter Notes
     Alright! So unedited as usual, sorry! But, alas an update! Hope you
     guys enjoy this one! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It’s been exactly three days since the incident. Mickey is calling it the
incident because it isn’t going to happen again; it was a one time thing and
that’s it. No Ian.
Although, it’s easier said than done. Especially when all Mickey can think
about it Ian’s hands gripping him, breathing on his neck, hot and heavy. And
well, Mickey maybe has been thinking about it every time he jerks off, but
that’s not too big of a deal, so long as he never acts on it again.
He’s out of the shower and since he isn’t going to the spot under the bleachers
anymore he stays home; although, he cannot stand it. His dad doesn’t have a
job, that low life, and he just sits around all day in his plaid boxers and
opened up dirty gray bathrobe. It’s repulsive to have to be in the same room
with him, but he’s willing to, at least for now, until he feels it’s safe to go
back to his spot without Ian showing up.
Mickey’s sitting on the worn out, ripped up, stain filled brown couch in the
living room watching Jerry Springer on the small ass wooden clunker of a tv.
The antenna is on the top, pointing in opposite directions with large foil
balls wrapped on the tips. The screen is still blurry as shit but Mickey isn’t
complaining, it’s not like he needs Jerry Springer to be in HD.
“The fuck you watching?” His dad strolls in, plopping down on the couch next to
him and he smells awful.
“Jerry,” Mickey says, not wanting to look over at his dad. “Some girl’s husband
fucked her mom, her aunt, her sister and her dad.”
“Her dad?” Terry let’s out a groan of disgust. “Fucking faggots, they’re
everywhere. The more the tv makes it look normal the more they’re gonna keep
coming. Disgusting.”
“Yeah,” Mickey grinds his teeth and for some reason his heart is pounding in
his chest and he feels sick to his stomach. “Fuck, I just remembered, I gotta
show up for some bullshit test.”
“Give me the remote, I ‘aint gonna watch this shit.”
Mickey hands his dad the remote and dips out, not looking back, just opening up
the front door and heading out into the cold. He doesn’t really know where to
go, because he isn’t sure he wants to test out behind the bleachers just yet,
in fear that Ian might be there. But, it has been three days, so he doubts Ian
would have gone everyday, for fuck sakes it was only a handjob, and Ian didn’t
get any and it’s not like he’s going to, ever.
The decision isn’t really made so much as his body leads him to the school
because of routine and all that shit. And no, he’s not in some small capacity
hoping that Ian will be there because that would just be crazy. And yet, Ian is
all he is thinking about.
Mickey’s on the field trudging over to the bleachers and he stops, thinking it
over because he can just walk away and go chill in an alleyway or even go back
home and not have see what’s on the other side of the bleachers, but that feels
like running away and Mickey isn’t one to run away. Plus he doesn’t want to
have Ian Gallagher dictate where the fuck he goes and what the fuck he does.
His mind is made up as he takes the last few steps and walks behind the
bleachers, hearing his feet grind against the dirt and rocks. Focusing on his
feet, Mickey doesn’t look up because he’s not ready to see, but really, what’s
there to be afraid of? So he lifts his head up to look.
Ian is sitting there.
Ian is fucking sitting down in his spot. This has got to be some sick joke,
some dream because this kids got some balls. Mickey rubs his eyes harshly,
thinking maybe he is just imagining it, but no, Ian is sitting down, legs
spread open and head leaning back, blowing his breath into the cold air.
Mickey makes his way across the ground and Ian’s head bobs back down and he is
staring straight at Mickey; a really fucking dumb smile is lifting on Ian’s
face and Mickey wants nothing better than to just walk up and deck the shit out
of him, but he refrains.
“So he shows up,” Ian says, clapping his hands together. “Thought you’d never
come back.”
“This is my spot,” Mickey says angrily, sitting down across from Ian. “Why the
fuck are you here anyways?”
“Figured it’s public grounds and I can sit wherever the hell I want,” Ian
smirks, but it wipes off his face quicker than it came, “plus we should talk
about what happened.”
“Nothing to talk about.” Mickey isn’t going to do this, fuck that.
“Really?” Ian sighs, rolling his eyes the way his sister does. “I jerk you off
and there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey snaps, leaning forward and Ian doesn’t back away.
“It was a fucking mistake, okay? It’s never gonna happen again.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t want it again?” Ian’s smirking, like he always
seems to do and it’s really pissing Mickey off; he’s never met someone who
isn’t afraid of him in the least bit, it’s weird.
“I already told you, I’m not a fucking faggot.” Ian’s smirk fades away pretty
quickly after that word and Mickey is going to take a mental note of that, in
case he ever has to get Ian the fuck away from him.
“Getting jerked off doesn’t make you gay,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel his
face scrunching up in dumbfoundedness.
“Are you listening to yourself? Anything with another guy is gay in my book.”
“Well maybe you need an editor to work on your book,” Ian laughs and Mickey
rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious. I know you liked it, you can’t fucking deny
that. Or at least your dick did.”
Fuck, Mickey can feel his dick getting hard, and he’s trying his best to focus
on anything that will make it stop, but his thought process is getting cut off
because Ian is still talking about his dick.
“You can’t tell me it was because of the porn. That was shit quality porn and
you didn’t stop me. You could have, but you didn’t. You let me at it, and I bet
you’d let me again.” Ian is leaning in a little bit and Mickey stays still,
maybe he’s imagining it. “I bet you want me around your cock, all hot and hard
and you just get to sit there and watch, feel it all.”
No, he’s definitely not imagining it, Ian is getting really fucking close, like
inches away and Mickey backs up the slightest, moving his head back and away.
Ian drops down in front of him and Mickey can feel Ian’s hands fumbling with
his zipper, unbuttoning his pants and yanking them down.
“What the fuck, Gallagher!” But then Ian’s mouth is on his dick and any other
thought he has is literally blown away.
Ian’s mouth is hot and wet and goddamn does he know how to work it; he closes
tight around Mickey’s head and works his way down, taking it all and Mickey
let’s out a hitched moan, biting his knuckles as he watches it all happen.
Watches the back of Ian’s head bob up and down, and he feels it all. Ian’s
tongue works around his cock and then he takes his mouth off and Mickey feels
lost without it, so in the moment he doesn’t know why Ian would stop.
“I knew you wanted it,” Ian says, looking up at Mickey, his cheeks flushed, his
lips plump and red and then he’s back on Mickey’s cock, one of his hands rubs
up Mickey’s chest and next thing Mickey knows he’s sucking Ian’s thumb. “Fuck,”
Ian moans, and Mickey honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing but he likes it, a
lot.
Mickey can see Ian working his other hands on his own crotch, palming at his
hard on in his jeans and Mickey wants to feel it? But that would be too far,
even for him, and yet watching Ian jerk himself off through his jeans isn’t
enough.
He needs more.
“Ian,” Mickey let’s out, low and guttural and then Ian goes completely down,
moving his head side to side, and Mickey can feel his muscles tensing, but he
is not going to come yet. Hell no. “Ian, fuck, please.”
“Yeah?” Ian says, pulling his face up and before Mickey can think he pushes Ian
back so that he’s on his back and Mickey is above him, waist in between Ian’s
spread out legs.
Mickey watches his hands reach out and undo Ian’s jeans, watches his hands yank
Ian’s jeans down and he doesn’t recognize them, because he swore he would never
do this. He swore that he wouldn’t let this happen again, and yet Ian’s
underneath him, his dick hard against his stomach, leaking, and Mickey’s hand
is wrapped around it, moving up and down, slowly.
“Is this good?” Mickey asks, because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.
Jerking off himself is way different because he knows what his dick likes,
knows how to work his body but Ian, well, he really has no idea.
“Yeah, just like that,” Ian groans, and rocks his hips up into Mickey’s hand.
Mickey’s dick is still out and hard as fuck so he takes his other hand and
starts jerking himself off. It’s still wet from Ian’s mouth so his hand slides
up and down without effort; he takes his other hand and spits in it, going back
onto Ian’s cock, slicking it up, rubbing his thumb over Ian’s head and it’s
leaking with precome.
It’s so fucking hot.
“Lay next to me,” Ian says, and Mickey doesn’t really question it, just goes
with it, lying down on the ground next to Ian. Ian takes his hand and starts to
jerk Mickey off, while Mickey goes back to jerking him off; his arm crossed
over Ian’s and holy fuck he’s already about to come, but then Ian says, “I’m
gonna come,” and Mickey’s glad he’s not the first.
Mickey tightens his grip and works his hand faster and faster, listening to
Ian’s short moans, watching him biting his bottom lip as his hips thrust into
the air, and then he’s coming, hot and sticky all over Mickey’s hand but he
doesn’t care. He works his hand down slowly and back up, pumping it all out
thick onto Ian’s stomach and it’s one of the hottest things Mickey’s seen.
“Fuck,” Mickey let’s out, and then he’s coming. His whole body tenses up as
Ian’s hand works it’s magic. Mickey can feel his eyes roll back, his body roll
with it as he shoots out onto his stomach, opening up his mouth the slightest
and letting out a moan as Ian’s hand slows down.
“Holy shit,” Ian says, letting go of Mickey, “how the hell are we gonna clean
this?”
Mickey takes off his scarf and wipes the come off his stomach, handing it over
to Ian; he yanks his pants back up and suddenly is very aware of the fact that
it’s cold as fuck out. Mickey shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and goes
back to sitting down in his usual spot, watching Ian as he pulls his jeans up
and sits down across from him.
“So are you gonna run away again?” Ian asks, and he pulls out his own pipe,
which Mickey isn’t sure how to feel about.
“You have your own pipe?” Mickey says, because he’s going to ignore the
question.
“Yes. I don’t only get high with you, I have a life too.” Ian takes a lighter
out of his other pocket and lights up, meaning he was smoking before Mickey
came, and now Mickey suddenly feels very sober.
“Give me a hit,” Mickey says, reaching out his hand, and Ian hands it over.
Mickey breathes it in smooth, holding it in and feeling his body mellow out,
his shoulders relax and he has a smile on his face as he blows out.
“So,” Ian says, and his cheeks are still just as flushed as they were while he
was deep throating Mickey. “Public sex a usual thing of yours?”
“I get off wherever I can,” Mickey takes another hit, and hands it over to Ian
since it’s still cherrying; Ian pushes it in with the end of the lighter and
sucks in.
“Was that your first time jerking another guy off?” That fucking smirk is on
his face again.
“Fuck, Gallagher, you always full of questions or what?”
“I think I’m allowed to ask some questions, especially if I wanna know the guy
who I had shoved all the way in the back of my throat.”
Mickey shakes his head, because really, how the fuck did he end up here,
talking to Ian Gallagher after jerking him off. Things are happening way too
fast and Mickey suddenly feels a little freaked out, but he isn’t going to run
away this time; he isn’t a bitch.
“Yes. I never jerked a guy off and I never fucking planned on it either.”
Mickey runs his hand through his hair and sighs, gnawing at his lower lip.
“Fuck. I always said I would never do this.”
“If you’re worried I’m gonna tell or anything, don’t be,” and Ian has this
puppy dog expression on his face that Mickey can’t help but smile, even if it’s
just a one sided smile. “Dude, like I was saying the other day, I know how much
it sucks to be outed. I would never do that to someone.”
“You don’t understand,” Mickey says, and he can feel his heart beating in his
chest, his breathing getting a little more shallow, “I can’t be gay.”
“You can’t help what you are,” Ian scoots over and pats Mickey on the shoulder,
and Mickey doesn’t even flinch. “Some people are gay, it isn’t a big deal.”
“No you don’t understand,” Mickey isn’t sure what the fuck he is doing, because
he’s spent his whole life trying to convince himself that he isn’t gay. Tell
himself that when he looked at guys in porn, that he was just doing a size
comparison, that whatever the fuck it was that he has been feeling his whole
life wasn’t real. And now, here he is, about to possibly admit out loud to
himself and another person that he may in fact be gay? It’s just too much. “My
dad will kill me.”
“Man, I thought the same thing, but Frank was pretty chill about it all, had
some spiel about how men need sex and if they wanna fuck another man so be it.”
Ian looks at Mickey and the looks he gives is so genuine that Mickey isn’t used
to it. “You’ll be fine.”
“My dad beat the shit out of me because he saw me watching a video of a guy
jerking off,” Mickey says, not wanting to meet Ian’s gaze so he he looks down
at his fingers which are intertwined together and white from gripping so hard.
“He said ‘i ‘aint raising a fucking faggot’ and dragged me out of my room and
just started punching me and kicking me and all I could do was lay there
covering my face and hoping it’d end.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ian says, and Mickey still won’t look up at him.
“I was thirteen,” Mickey nods his head and looks up, this time locking eyes
with Ian. “I can’t be gay.”
“Okay.”
They leave it at that, Mickey somehow feeling like a weight has been lifted off
his shoulder. Ian and him go back to smoking, not really saying anything much
after that; it’s nice. Mickey likes the company and he trusts Ian when he says
he isn’t going to tell anyone.
There’s something else, also. Mickey can’t help but watch Ian, the way he
laughs, his smile, his eyes and it isn’t in a sexual way, which he’s so used
to. No, when he looks at Ian he feels a smile tugging on his lips and he feels
somehow happy? Happy to just be hanging out with Ian, happy that Ian
understands him and he’s actually happy Ian isn’t afraid of him.
It’s all so different and Mickey has to adjust to it, but the way Ian is making
him feel can’t be a bad thing, right?
Chapter End Notes
     So I do have a tumblr if anyone wants to pop in and talk about it or
     heckle me for an update or whatever it's mickeymilkovandamn although
     I might switch that real soon, so I'll update it on here when I do :)
***** muthatruckin p i m p *****
Chapter Summary
     Terry's a piece of shit and Mickey has to get out of the house.
Chapter Notes
     So unedited as usual! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Everything’s been going too good, something is going to come along and ruin it,
Mickey can sense it. Nothing ever stays remotely okay in his life. And the fact
that his dad has been binge drinking for the past couple of days is the exact
reason why he senses something is going to happen.
“Stay away from him, okay,” Mickey says, watching Mandy stirring the mac and
cheese in the black scratched up pot. “He’s drinking non stop and that’s never
fucking good.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” she snaps back, shaking the salt over the
pot. “I’ve been dealing with Terry trying to come onto me since mom died. I
know what to do.”
“Okay, I’m just saying.”
“Yeah well thanks, but I’m fine. Besides Gian’s coming over tonight.” The way
her smile lightens up her face makes Mickey feel alright, even if he doesn’t
know who the fuck this Gian guy is. All her other boyfriends have been shit and
she never smiled like that when they came over.
“He good to you?” Mickey cracks his knuckles, one by one, and Mandy just glares
at him, because no matter how menacing he tries to be, his sister never seems
to take him seriously.
“Yeah, he’s real good to me.”
Mickey leaves it at that, waving bye to Mandy as he walks quietly past Terry,
who’s knocked out on the couch. He’ll end up waking up eventually and Mickey
doesn’t want to be there when he does. He knows Mandy can take care of herself,
has been her whole life, so that’s not his biggest concern. Although, with his
brothers out of the house, he is the slightest bit worried something bad might
happen, but he decides to shake the fear off before he changes his mind on
leaving.
It’s Saturday so there’s no school, although, Mickey always has Saturday
school; he just never shows. It’s funny that they even still call his house,
reminding him of Saturday school, when he doesn’t even bother showing up to his
actual classes.
There’s no point in going behind the bleachers so he figures he’ll head over to
The Alibi, because Kev sure as fuck doesn’t card on a count that he can’t
afford to lose the business and why the fuck would he?
It’s chilly out and Mickey regrets using his scarf to clean up the come because
his neck feels like small daggers are being jabbed into him every time the wind
whips by. It’s a quick walk and he makes it even quicker by cutting through a
few alleyways, hopping a few fences and not giving a fuck whether there’s
oncoming traffic. Pedestrian always has the right of way or some shit.
He flings open the door to The Alibi and he can already hear Frank ranting
about some dumbass cause that he feels everyone else needs to hear. Mickey
rolls his eyes and plops down at the end of the bar. The stools look soft and
cushioning but are in fact hard as rocks. Cheap ass place can’t even have nice
seats for their customers.
“‘Ey Kev,” Mickey says, waving a hand; Kev walks over and nods, “get me a shot
of tequila.”
Kev comes back with a shot glass full to the top, and Mickey appreciates it. He
downs it and man it get’s him every time, but he keeps his mouth close, letting
the burning feeling subside before he takes in a breath; he is not about to
cough after taking a shot.
“Can I have another, and a beer,” Mickey says, still tasting the tequila all
over the inside of his mouth.
“You celebrating?” Kev asks, bringing another shot and a beer.
“Nah,” Mickey says, moving the shot glass around on the table, watching the
dirty ass looking guy next to him reach into the peanuts and grab a handful.
He’s not going to be eating the peanuts tonight. “Terry’s on another bender,
figured I’d have a few to chill out before going back.”
“Smart man,” Kev nods, wiping the counter down and then throwing the dish towel
back over his shoulder, walking back to refill another low life’s cup.
“So you see,” Frank continues on, and now Mickey is forced to listen because
Frank’s standing on his stool, waving one hand around while holding a beer with
the other. “If we just say fuck you to the government and keep driving our oil
filled cars and keep using our Chevys and our Lincolns they will be forced to
stop this green act. Global warming? Nay. We live in a society where we let the
Man speak for us, and what do we get from it? No healthcare and our rights
stripped away-”
“Frank, what the fuck are you talking about,” Mickey says, tossing back his
second shot, watching Frank’s brow furrow, one of his eyes drooping. He’s
smashed.
“I’m saying,” Frank continues, “that if we refuse to buy electric cars, refuse
to pay more for organic fruits, then the government will stop.”
“Stop what, Frank?” Kev chimes in, giving Mickey a wink, and Mickey smirks
because it’s good to know he’s not the only one that thinks Frank is crazy.
“Stop lying!” Frank exclaims, taking a long swig of his beer. “Running out of
oil my ass! That’s what they want you to think. Truth is, if we demand it, if
we really refuse to buy all the green hippy shit they want, then somehow,
miraculously, they will find more oil.”
“Alright, Frank,” Kev says, motioning for him to sit down. “We get it.”
“I sure hope so,” Frank plops back down into his stool. “It’s just a matter of
time, you watch.”
The bar goes back to people talking, glasses clinking and Mickey is almost done
with his beer. He feels calmer that’s for sure, but he asks for one more shot
to just be sure; that does it. After that shot he definitely feels good,
although, he always knows if he’s feeling it when he pees.
Mickey walks into the bathroom and goes into the stall, closing the hatch
behind him and fuck, it’s the best piss of his life. His head falls back and he
closes his eyes, feeling his head sway back and forth.
And as much as he hates to admit it, he’s a lightweight, and is definitely
feeling the booze. Although, he’s not drunk, because that would require a lot
more alcohol.
He’s still pissing and he feels himself teeter forward, shoving his hand out in
front of him, balancing himself. Looking at the wall, he sees all these
different sentences scribbled on the it and then he sees the one he had left
there a long ass time ago.
“Mickey gets all the Milkobitches,” he reads to himself and then starts
laughing, finishing up and zipping his fly.
Mickey walks out of the bathroom and sees that Frank is yet again on another
rant and decides he’s not going to be subjected to this bullshit. He asks for
one more shot, and tells Kev to add it to Franks tab because that shit never
closes; Kev laughs, but agrees, and Mickey takes his last shot of tequila
before leaving The Alibi, hearing Frank ramble on as he walks out.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a joint that he rolled earlier in the
day, because he knew damn well that he was going to use it with Terry on a
bender. He lights it up and smokes it as he walks down the street. It’s not
like a cop is going to bust him for smoking a spliff, at least not in this
neighborhood. His fingers pinch at the end of the joint as he inhales it,
loving the calmness that is washing over him like a wave.
The L passes over as he walks down some alleyway that’s basically just dirt.
It’s loud and zipping along but he stops where he is, takes another puff and
stares up at it, watching it pass over him in a blur, and just like that it’s
gone.
All his thoughts are slowed down and all he can seem to focus on is Ian. He
decides to sit down on the ground and enjoy being crossfaded because man it
feels fucking great. Mickey closes his eyes and listens to the city, the people
walking by, the sound of horns in the distance and the steady beat of his
heart. Ian is all he’s thinking about though.
Mickey really wants to see him again.
He can feel his eyes getting heavier and heavier and next thing he knows he’s
waking up to a stray dog licking his face. It’s a grimy looking dog too. It’s
fur is full of dirt, it wreaks and yet here it is wagging its’ tail and licking
Mickey’s cheek.
“Get the fuck off me,” he says, standing up too quickly and falling back
against the concrete wall, looking around and realizing it’s nighttime now.
“How long was I out for,” he mumbles to himself as he looks down at the dog.
“What the fuck are you looking at?”
Mickey walks out of the alleyway, no longer feeling any of the alcohol or weed
in his system, meaning he’s been out for at least a couple of hours. He shakes
his head as he walks home, hoping that his dad will still be knocked out.
He takes the same shortcut back to his house and as he’s walking up the block
he sees Frank passed out on the Gallagher’s front lawn. Yeah, Frank Gallagher
is the biggest fucking mess Mickey has ever seen. There’s a half empty bottle
of beer lying perfectly right side up next to Frank’s face and Mickey is
tempted to go by and knock it over but decides against it, figuring Frank won’t
wake up and it won’t be all that funny.
Mickey hops up the steps to his house and opens the door slowly, hoping to not
wake up his dad. Terry isn’t on the couch though, so Mickey doesn’t bother
closing the door lightly, there’s no use.
“You fucking bitch!” Mickey hears Terry yell and he can feels his heart drop
all the way to his stomach while his throat constricts.
This is what he’s been sensing all day.
Mickey rushes into the kitchen and see’s some guy on the floor of the kitchen,
his eye swollen shut, dark and purple, blood all over his chin and a gash
across his forehead.
“What the fuck?” Mickey says, hearing banging coming from down the hallway.
“Mandy!” he yells as he darts into the hallway; he can see his dad banging on
her bedroom door, only in his boxers.
“Get the fuck out here!” Terry yells, slamming his fists against the door.
“You’re gonna fucking cheat on me in my own house!”
“Dad!” Mickey yells, seeing his dad turn slowly, holding himself up on the
doorknob to Mandy’s room.
“Your mom cheated on me,” he says, words slurred as he turns back to the door.
“In my own fucking house! Open up!”
“That’s Mandy!” Mickey shouts, rushing down the hallway until he’s only a few
inches away from Terry, and he can smell him. The sweet smell of Crown Royal
seeping through his pores, his stance wobbly and one of his eyes is shut.
“Leave her the fuck alone.”
“What did you say to me?” Terry asks, his voice cold as ice as he turns,
glaring at Mickey. “You better fucking respect me.”
“That isn’t mom,” Mickey says, not backing up, although he really wants to. His
dad scares him. “That’s Mandy. You need to stop, okay?”
Before Mickey even knows it, his dad’s fist connects clean with his jaw and a
loud pop fills the air as he falls back, pain spreading like a virus across his
face. Terry steps forward as Mickey tries to balance himself and then there’s
another punch, this time straight into his nose.
Mickey can taste blood in his mouth, warm and metallic and feels it dripping
out of his nose; he falls back and lands on the floor, clean on his tailbone,
groaning in pain. Terry tries to kick him while he’s down but loses his balance
and falls straight back. Mickey can hear his head hit the floor and he
scrambles to his feet, worrying Terry might get up in some kind of drunken rage
and keep going, but he isn’t moving.
Mickey looks at Terry’s stomach and sees that he’s breathing; he’s knocked out.
“Mandy,” Mickey says, holding his hand to his nose, feeling the blood drip out
and the pain shoot through him like jolts of lightning. “He’s knocked out. You
can come out now.”
Mandy’s door creaks open and she steps out, her shirt ripped and a visible
bruise on her left eye; Mickey’s going to kill Terry. She stands over Terry and
spits on him.
“That motherfucker,” Mandy says, wiping her eyes, and wincing. “Me and Gian
were in the kitchen and he just fucking stumbles in and punches me, talking
about how I’m cheating on him. I ran the fuck out. Is Gian okay?”
She runs down the hallway towards the kitchen before Mickey can even respond.
He pulls his hand away and looks at it; it’s covered in dark red blood, and he
can feel the blood coming down from his nose and pooling on his chin. Mickey
rushes to the bathroom and turns on the sink, filling his hands with the water
and splashing it onto his face, gasping at how cold it is. He can see himself
in the mirror and his jaw is red and already bruising; his nose doesn’t look
broken but it sure doesn’t look good. Fucking Terry.
“I’m going over to Gians!” Mandy yells, and Mickey can hear the kitchen table
screech, probably from GIan using it to stand up. “I won’t be back for a couple
days, you should find someone to stay with. He’s gonna wake up and wanna kill
one of us.”
She’s right, Mickey knows that, but he doesn’t know where to go. Sure, having a
badass reputation as a thug who know one fucks with has it perks, but when it
comes to this, well, he has no one to turn to. He can go back to The Alibi, but
last calls at two and then he’ll be out on the streets, and sleeping on the
streets in this cold of weather will fucking suck.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, splashing more water on his face, leaning in and
putting his mouth under the faucet, swishing and spitting it out, seeing the
pink blood filled water go down the drain. He leans on the sink, staring at
himself in the mirror, his knuckles going white from squeezing.
Ian is the only person that seems to make any sense, but who’s to say that Ian
will be alright with him just crashing out. Not to mention, if Ian’s family
knows he’s gay, they might figure Mickey is and if that gets around then a few
punches from Terry will be the least of his problems.
His heart is banging in his chest, his breathing is getting more erratic and
he’s trying to figure it all out. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip when he hears
Terry groan and before he can truly make up his mind he shuts off the faucet
and runs out, hopping over Terry who is rubbing his eyes and starting to say
something.
There’s no one else to go to. There’s no one else who will even remotely trust
him in their house. It’s his only option.
Ian.
His hands are shaking and he’s hitting them against his hips as he walks up the
stairs to the Gallagher’s front porch; Frank’s still passed out on the lawn.
Before he can second guess himself he knocks on the door, quick and hard,
rocking back and forth on his feet, anxious as hell.
“I’ll get it!” Mickey hears a girl yell and then the door flings open and Fiona
is standing there, furrowing her brow and cocking her head. “Mickey? Lip steal
something from you?”
“No,” he says, his eyes shifting around, looking to see if Terry somehow
followed him. “Um, is Ian here?”
“Oh for Christ sakes,” Fiona sighs, leaning her head back and yelling, “Ian!
Mickey Milkovich is here! If you did something from him or stole something just
bring it down now!”
“No, no it’s not like that,” Mickey says, suddenly feeling like a piece of
shit.
“Figured since you had a bloody nose and a bruised jaw someone must have done
something to piss you off,” she runs her hand through her hair and stands there
waiting.
“Yo!” Ian shouts, popping out by the side of Fiona and his smile makes Mickey
feel better instantly. “Fiona,” he waves for her to leave, “we’re good.”
Fiona nods and walks back into the house, and now Mickey is facing Ian who is
leaning against the door and his smile fades away.
“What happened?” Ian asks, putting his hand out and touching Mickey’s chin,
lightly.
“My dad,” Mickey says, looking down and feeling ashamed.
“Oh shit, did he? About us?”
“What? No, no! He was drunk and basically I don’t know where else to go,”
Mickey admits, and he feels like he’s a little kid because he never asks for
help, makes him feel weak.
“Oh,” Ian says, nodding his head, “well come on in.”
Mickey walks in behind him, feeling awkward as hell. There’s two kids sitting
on the couch watching something and they don’t even look up, or seem to care.
The boy pokes the red head girl next to him and she calls him an asshole and
hits his shoulder. Fiona is in the kitchen, feeding a baby and the whole house
smells like chicken; it’s homely.
“Okay, so left over from dinner is in the oven to stay warm,” Fiona says,
walking out of the kitchen and throwing on a coat. “Liam’s fed and Debbie will
put him to bed. Carl, don’t burn anything while I’m gone. Okay. I think that’s
everything. I’ll be home in the morning, these night shifts suck but we need
the money. Love you guys.”
And with that she just leaves, rushing out the front door and everyone goes
back to whatever it was they they were doing. Mickey feels like he’s in an
alternate universe; in his house no one tells anyone anything, people come and
go and it’s no one’s business where.
“Here, let’s go upstairs,” Ian says, pulling at Mickey’s hand and leading him
up; Mick follows behind him.
Ian tells Mickey to go into his room, the one at the end of the hallway with
caution tape all around it, Mickey laughs. He walks slowly into the room and
sees a bed straight across from him and a bunk bed right next to the door. He
can relate to having more than one person in a room, although ever since his
brothers left he has his own room.
“The one straight across is mine,” Ian calls from the bathroom, and Mickey
walks over and sits on it. It’s firm but comfy, and it creaks when Mickey sits
down on it. “Alright,” Ian walks in holding a wet wad of toilet paper. “We
didn’t have any first aid shit but here,” he puts the toilet paper out and
touches right under Mickey’s nose; he winces. “Sorry.”
Ian cleans up the blood and does it gently, only making Mickey wince a few
times when the paper hits his nose. Ian asks him what happened and Mickey tells
him, trying to make it sound like he hit his dad back and didn’t just get hit;
Ian just nods when he’s done he claps his hand down on Mickey’s shoulder,
telling him he looks good as new.
“Thanks,” Mickey says, scrunching his nose and wiggling it from side to side,
assessing how much pain his nose actually is in. It doesn’t hurt too bad, and
he’s definitely felt worse, but getting hit in the nose always sucks, since he
never realizes how much he uses it until it’s damaged.
“Anytime,” Ian says, walking out and throwing the wad of bloody toilet paper
away in the toilet, Mickey can hear it flush. “You can stay over of course.”
“Cool,” he says, letting out a breath of relief that he didn’t even know he was
holding in. “Oh yeah, Frank’s passed out in the front of your house.”
“When isn’t he,” Ian replies, plopping down next to Mickey on the bed, their
shoulders side by side and Ian’s warm.
Mickey’s hands are tapping nervously on his thigh and then he feels Ian’s hand
rest over his and Mickey looks up, Ian smiles at him and Mickey just nods,
feeling Ian’s hand close around his. He takes a deep breath and leans his head
down on Ian’s shoulder, not really sure why, but it feels right.
“This is getting real gay,” Mickey comments, because well it is. Ian just
laughs and squeezes his hand tighter; Mickey closes his eyes and keeps his head
on Ian’s shoulder, not trying to think of anything or everything but be in the
moment.
“It’s okay, you know,” Ian says, and Mickey doesn’t know what he’s talking
about. “To be scared.”
They don’t say anything after that, but Mickey keeps his head on Ian’s shoulder
and Ian doesn’t take his hand away from Mickey’s. It’s peaceful.
“You good?” Ian asks after a long time, rubbing his thumb over Mickey’s and
Mickey nods into Ian’s neck, not even caring that his nose rubbed against Ian
and hurt like a bitch.
Mickey feels Ian’s hand come under his chin and lift his head up, making him
and Ian’s faces so close that Mickey can feel Ian’s breath on his face. He’s
not sure what to do, because he’s never kissed a guy before and sure he already
jerked Ian off, but kissing is more intimate than a quick jerk behind the
school bleachers.
“I…” but the words catch in Mickey’s throat and his heart is pounding in his
chest, his palms are sweaty and he feels lightheaded? Maybe it’s just the blood
loss, yeah that’s probably it.
But then Ian leans in and his lips are on Mickey’s and they’re so soft and
Mickey loses any thought he’s having as his eyes close and he loses himself in
it. Ian wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck, pulling him in close and
Mickey’s hands falling on Ian’s waist, his heart feeling like it’s freefalling.
Ian pulls away and Mickey’s eyes flutter open, his mouth still partly open and
his breath caught in his lungs; he closes his mouth and can still taste Ian on
his lips, and it all feels so fucking right. Ian makes him feel like he can
have something better than just a quicky or a one time fuck, like maybe him and
Ian can actually work out.
But then Terry fills his head a second after and that’s when he comes back to
his senses and remembers why he’s so against admitting it, acting on it,
feeling anything that can be remotely considered gay.
Terry will kill him.
“Fuck,” Mickey whispers, and he can feel his eyes starting to burn and holy
fuck he is not about to cry in front of Ian, let alone cry. He blinks faster
and faster and Ian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t comment on it or even seem to
acknowledge it, instead, Ian leans his head on Mickey’s shoulder and Mickey
smiles, even though he feels like he might puke.
“I know,” Ian says, still resting his head on Mickey. “Dude, when I first, you
know, dealt with it I felt sick. I remember when I told Lip, I was shaking.”
Ian laughs and shakes his head. “Lip didn’t care, and neither did anyone else.
But Mickey,” and Ian pulls his head off of Mickey’s shoulder and looks him dead
in the eyes. “If you ever need to leave your house because of Terry, you can
stay here, okay?”
Mickey nods his head but he can’t imagine leaving his house, leaving Mandy to
deal with Terry by herself, but maybe she can leave too. Maybe Gian is her way
out just as much as Ian is his. Terry can rot in hell for all he cares, he just
doesn’t want to leave without knowing that his sister is gone and safe also.
“Okay,” he says, and this time he leans in and kisses Ian, slow and tender and
Mickey can feel Ian’s lips turning into a smile while they kiss and well, so
does his.
They kiss some more, and Mickey loves it. The way he feels when Ian’s lips are
on his, the comfortability of it, their lips locking together and when Ian’s
tongue slips into Mickey’s mouth, well fuck, he never knew kissing could feel
this good. Ian’s hand is resting on Mickey’s thigh and Mickey’s hand is holding
the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him in as close as physically possible, wanting
to never leave.
Ian’s hand moves up and then he’s grabbing at Mickey’s cock and it feels
fucking great; Ian’s tongue still in his mouth, the little moans that escape
from him when their lips part just the slightest and now he’s palming at
Mickey’s dick; Mickey takes his hand off the back of Ian’s neck and moves it
down, feeling Ian’s chest, his abs and then his hand is grabbing at his dick,
needy and wanting.
Ian pulls away and before Mickey can go back in for more Ian’s mouth is hot on
his neck, sucking a nipping and Mickey groans as Ian’s mouth works around his
neck and his hand keeps up on his cock.
“Hey, Ian!” a kid calls from the staircase and Mickey can hear the footsteps
coming up; Ian and him both move apart quicker than a gunshot and Mickey tries
his best to look normal, but his neck has this burning feeling on it and his
dick is still hard and he’s pretty sure his lips are red and raw.
“What is it, Carl?” Ian calls, standing up and giving Mickey a wink; Mickey
snorts and is still trying to get himself back from that mind blowing make out
session.
“Can I sleep in the van outside tonight?” The kid pops up from the staircase
and he’s carrying a bat, with this devious smile plastered on his face.
“Why?”
“You know, kill things.” Mickey isn’t sure if the kids fucking around, but by
the look on his face and the fact that he’s carrying a bat, he probably isn’t.
“No dogs or cats,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel his eyes widen because is this
normal?
“Yeah I know,” Carl says, rolling his eyes, “so that’s a yes.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Awesome.”
The kid turns around and books it down the stairs and Mickey can hear him
banging the bat against the wall his whole way down, and then a door slams and
it’s quiet.
“Figure as long as he isn’t killing people it’s fine,” Ian says and Mickey just
nods because he can’t really argue with that logic.
The red hair girl comes up right after that with the baby and tells Ian she’s
going to bed, Ian says he’ll help her put Liam to bed and walks out of the
room, leaving Mickey to look around. It seems like a typical room, just like
his, some weapons on the floor, ninja throwing stars stuck in the side of the
bunk beds, and that’s when he sees a VHS on the top of the dresser next to
Ian’s bed.
Mickey reaches up and grabs it, looking to see if it has a title or not.
There’s no title. He snickers because that means it’s probably porn, and he
can’t wait to make Ian put it on so he can see what type of kinky shit he’s
into.
Ian comes back and Mickey simply holds up the video tape, watching Ian’s eyes
bug out and yeah, it’s definitely porn.
“Where there’s a VHS player in this house?” Mickey asks, standing up and Ian is
already shaking his head no, reaching out and trying to grab it away from him.
“What’s the matter? Don’t want me to know what kind of porn you watch?” And
Mickey holds the VHS up with both his hands and now Ian’s right in front of
him, reaching for it, and Mickey can see his shirt rising up.
“It’s not porn,” Ian says, still reaching and now he has Mickey pinned back
against the dresser. “It’s an old family video that’s super embarrassing but
Lip keeps it to torture me with.”
“Oh,” and a devious grin widens on Mickey’s face, “we’re definitely watching it
now.”
“Mickey, come on, it’s embarrassing,” Ian says, and he stops trying to reach
for it.
“Come on man, if you let me see it,” Mickey can’t believe he’s about to say
this but, “I’ll blow you.”
Ian’s eyes widen and then Mickey almost feels like maybe he should back out of
that offer but Ian nods yes and tells him to come downstairs because that’s
where the VCR is. Mickey follows behind him and he’s really hoping that this
video is mortifying for Ian because he spoke without thinking and now he’s
going to have to suck Ian off.
Not that he doesn’t want to, because he does. But, still, he’s never done it
before and he’s nervous as fuck.
They sit down on the couch and Ian switches the tv over to whatever source it
needs to be on and grabs the tape, sticking it in and pushing play. Ian sits
down next to Mickey and is biting his nails; he looks so nervous and Mickey
can’t help but find it cute.
The videois all static at first but then it turns on and Ian is standing there,
probably six years old, with a snapback turned around on his head and a jersey
that reads “hoops.” Mickey has to bite his bottom lip from busting up laughing,
and then Ian starts rapping to 50 Cent and Mickey loses it, he’s hunched over
laughing and Ian is just glaring at him, face red as a tomato.
“Okay,” Ian says, getting up and shutting it off, “that’s enough.”
“Ian,” Mickey says, but he’s still laughing and Ian sits down next to him, face
still redder than red and he looks upset. “Ian, come on,” he pulls Ian into him
but he’s still laughing; Ian pulls away. “Ian I’m sorry,” and he finally is
able to stop laughing, and Ian huffs. “It’s cute, okay. I just wasn’t expecting
that. You could have warned me.”
“Yeah, well,” Ian says, but leans into Mickey’s arms and puts his head on his
shoulder, “that’s why I didn’t want to watch it.”
“But hey,” Mickey says, feeling his face getting red now, “at least you’re
gonna get a blowjob now.”
“Yeah,” Ian smirks, “that’s true.”
Mickey licks his lips and Ian gets up, pulling him by his hand up the stairs
and to his room, shutting the door behind them and then Ian’s on Mickey, hands
grabbing at him as their mouths slam together, hot and heavy. Mickey grabs
Ian’s ass, and fuck it’s firm, and pulls him in close, feeling his cock against
his own, nipping Ian’s bottom lip.
He drops down to his knees and Ian lets out a few curses as Mickey unbuttons
his pants, yanking them, along with his underwear, and watching his cock spring
out. Mickey takes in one last breath and leans in, licking the tip of Ian’s
dick, tasting it in his mouth as he wraps his lips around it completely, moving
his head down, gagging half way down.
Mickey sucks hard, working his tongue around the head, grabbing Ian’s bare ass
and jerking him forward, as deep into his mouth as he can go; Ian lets out
these groans that make Mickey want to do this forever, but his jaw might hate
him if he did.
His mouth is open as wide as it can go and he’s bobbing up and down, using one
hand to jerk off Ian as his mouth works his head, tasting Ian’s precome,
swallowing it down with his cock.
“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian moans, and Mickey reaches around, squeezes Ian’s ass,
feeling it tense up, “I’m gonna come.”
Mickey goes down as far as he can, feeling Ian in the back of his throat, his
dick getting rock hard as he jerks forward, letting out small groans as he
comes down Mickey’s throat. Mickey swallows it all, rubbing his hands up and
down Ian’s thighs as he keeps his mouth closed tight around Ian, sucking it all
down.
Mickey pulls away and wipes his mouth, letting his jaw relax, because damn his
jaw has never been that stretched for that long. No wonder it’s called a job.
“Holy shit,” Ian breathes out, and Mickey looks up at him, nodding. “That was
fucking amazing.”
“Good,” Mickey says, standing up and feeling his own cock hard against his
jeans, leaking. “I still,” and Mickey points down to his dick.
“Oh, yeah,” Ian says and drops down.
Mickey’s head falls back as Ian sucks his cock, and it doesn’t take long before
he’s coming, his whole body tightening and then relaxing, feeling a rush of
calm sweep over him, mixed with the best fucking feeling ever.
Ian’s the best head he’s ever had.
They end up lying in Ian’s bed, Mickey lying flat and Ian resting his head on
his chest, one leg over Mickey’s and his hand resting on Mickey’s stomach.
“I’m happy,” Mickey says, but it’s more of a question than a statement. “I’m
actually happy.”
“Good.”
Mickey has a smile on his face and falls asleep easily with Ian in his arms,
feeling Ian’s heart beat against his chest.
Chapter End Notes
     And again my tumblr is mickeymilkovandamn so if you guys wanna talk
     about this fic or Ian/Mickey come on down!
***** shit hits the fan *****
Chapter Summary
     Mickey leaves Ian's to go back and make sure everything's okay at his
     house, oh yeah, and he leaves with a neck full of hickeys.
Chapter Notes
     Okay! Unedited the usual! But this chapter ends up getting really
     angsty and like some shit happens that is dark and I'm sorry in
     advance but I had to add in the conflict soon just to boost up for
     more loving! So don't hate me!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Mickey hears shouting and what sounds like dishes being thrown into a sink and
he squints his eyes open, looking around, realizing he’s in Ian’s bed, alone.
The sun is creeping in through the cracks in the blinds and Mickey squints,
sitting up as he runs his hands through his bed head, looking around for a
clock to see what the fuck time it is. Of course, there’s no clock in the room.
He slips on his shoes and walks out of the room, trying not to make any noise
because he doesn’t want to walk downstairs while the whole family is there,
after coming out of Ian’s bed. It’s going to look like they fucked, and sure
technically they kind of did fuck around, but he doesn’t want Ian’s family to
think that.
The bathroom is right next to the bedroom so he slips in, closes the door
quietly and looks at himself in the mirror. His jaw is a dark purple where his
dad’s fists collided, but his face has definitely seen worse. There’s some
dried up blood right under his nose and he turns the faucet handle just the
slightest, letting the water come out quietly, filling his cupped hands and
wiping the blood away. His nose doesn’t even look that bad and he scrunches it
up, checking on the pain, and it doesn’t sting like it did last night, just a
small ache, nothing horrible. He looks back at the mirror and, holy fuck, his
neck is covered in bruises.
Mickey really regrets wasting his scarf to clean the come now.
Small little red and purple welts are around his neck, at least five, and
anyone with half a brain knows a hickey when they see one, and Fiona saw him
last night, and he didn’t show up with them. Fuck, his eyes dart around the
bathroom seeing if there’s anything he can use to cover it up. Nothing but pain
pills.
Hopefully Ian has a scarf, otherwise he’s fucked. He knew coming last night was
stupid and yet he did it, felt like it could work out somehow and now here he
is, the morning after, realizing it probably wasn’t the best idea.
Mickey takes a leak, and doesn’t flush; he doesn’t want them to know he’s
awake.
Back in Ian’s room he starts to look around, opens up the drawers as quietly as
possible. The first drawer is just underwear and socks and now Mickey knows
where Ian keeps his porn. There’s a magazine with naked women on the cover,
spreading their legs open and there are tits everywhere, and maybe it isn’t
Ian’s.
Mickey opens it up and wow, nevermind, it’s Ian’s. There’s this buff guy, hairy
as fuck, bent over a car getting nailed by another huge hairy motherfucker. The
guys face is scrunched up in this half pleasure half pain look and Mickey
wonders if it actually feels good, if getting fucked is actually pleasurable.
He’s never even tried to finger himself; he’s thought about it sure, but never
acted on it, but it has to be pleasurable in some aspect, right? Otherwise why
would people want it.
Great, he has a hard on now.
He shuts the porn mag and closes the top drawer, opening up the second one and
first thing he sees is a blue scarf. Grabbing it without even caring if Ian
gets mad, Mickey wraps it around his neck and rushes back to the bathroom,
making sure all the hickeys are covered.
Mickey’s tiptoeing down the hallway and he hears that kid, Carl, say, “is
Mickey your boyfriend?”
Mickey freezes, his heart plummets to his feet and he stops walking, stops
breathing, just listens to see what Ian says.
“Nah, not a chance,” Ian says back, and Mickey can feel his whole body relax.
“His dad’s more of a dick than Frank so he crashed out.”
“Oh, for sure.”
Mickey can trust Ian. It’s a great feeling to know Ian keeps his word, isn’t
going to out Mickey, even to his family. He feels less anxious about what
they’re doing, what they are? Because maybe this, them, isn’t a horrible idea,
maybe they’ll just need to be more careful next time, as in no visible hickeys.
Everyone is sitting around the kitchen table when he walks down the stairs;
they all turn and stare at him. Ian gives him a genuine smile and Mickey
awkwardly nods to them all, not knowing if he should leave.
“We have pancakes,” Fiona says, smiling brightly at him, “fix yourself a plate
and eat.”
Mickey nods again and goes into the kitchen, seeing a plate full of pancakes;
Ian walks into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, handing him a plate. Mickey
only puts two on his plate because this whole situation is making his stomach
feel uneasy, like it’s flip flopping all around his insides.
“You good?” Ian asks, and Mickey just grunts as a response, Ian rolling his
eyes. “Nice scarf.” Ian snorts and turns away from him, “so, we’ve got orange
juice and,” he opens up the fridge and looks inside, “well, just orange juice.”
“I’m fine,” Mickey says, and he can hear himself making his voice sound deeper
and he’s not sure why he even did that. “Thanks.”
The table is full of conversation, everyone talking over everyone, and they’re
all smiling and acting happy and it’s unsettling.
Ian is sitting next to Mickey and he nudges Mickey’s knee with is own, Mickey
feeling his mouth automatically grin, but he bites it back, clearing his
throat.
“So,” the red hair girl says, looking at Mickey, “why are you wearing Ian’s
scarf?”
“Debbie,” Ian says, glaring at her, “it’s none of your-”
“I get cold easily,” Mickey says, cutting Ian off. “I lost mine the other day
and woke up fucking freezing so I grabbed it.”
“Oh,” and she goes back to her food, not really even seeming to care.
No other questions are aimed towards Mickey the rest of the breakfast, just the
family talking about random stuff. Apparently, Lip is dating Karen Jackson and
no one seems to approve of her at the table; Ian continuously shakes his head
every time her name is brought up and Mickey simply keeps quiet, thanking Fiona
for the pancakes at the end and Ian gestures for him to come upstairs. He
follows.
“I am so sorry,” Ian says as soon as they are up in his room alone. “I had no
idea I even sucked that hard on your neck.”
“Yeah,” Mickey says, crossing his arms. “Next time contain yourself,
Gallagher.”
“Next time?” And now Ian has this shitty grin and Mickey can’t help but smile
too, feeling his cheeks getting hot because he’s never really felt like this
before. Ian somehow makes his palms get sweaty and his cheeks get hot and he
even finds himself the slightest nervous around him, it’s unusual. “So, this
isn’t just a one time thing then.”
“Shut up,” Mickey nudges Ian’s shoulder with his fists, and Ian shoves him
back.
“I’m glad.”
“Yeah.” And okay, this is too much talking about feelings and what they are and
Mickey clears his throat, wiping the grin off his face and squinting his eyes
into a glare. “But seriously, no fucking visible hickeys. Ever again.”
“I can do that.”
Ian closes the door and before Mickey can react Ian is on him, pinning him
against the bunk bed, smashing their lips together, rough and needy.
“Your family,” he lets out breathlessly, feeling Ian pull his shirt down and
start to suck on his collarbone. “Fuck.”
“They won’t bother,” Ian says, pulling away, wetting his lips before going back
and sucking some more, nipping. “Just one that’s not visible.”
“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groans, leaning his head back and feeling Ian’s mouth
hot on his chest, his teeth biting at his skin, his tongue working all around,
making Mickey want it all.
And just as quick as it started, Ian pulls away, his tongue running over his
bottom lip and he’s grinning and Mickey feels empty without his mouth on him,
without Ian against his body. His heart is beating against his chest and Mickey
thinks it’s going to leave a bruise, but it’s a good feeling.
Mickey likes Ian, a lot.
“There,” Ian says, opening up the door and walking out. “Not visible.”
“I should go home,” Mickey says, following Ian down the stairs into the living
room; the family is all sitting on the couch watching what looks like Animal
Planet. “See if Mandy came home or if Terry is,” Mickey let’s out a sigh. “Just
you know.”
“Yeah,” Ian nods, and he walks Mickey to the front door, leaning on the frame
as Mickey walks out, thankful for the scarf now more than ever because it’s
chilly out. “Remember what I said. You ever need to get away from Terry.”
“I know,” Mickey calls as he hops down the stairs; Frank isn’t in the grass
anymore.
Mickey doesn’t look back, it’ll seem a little too desperate or maybe just a
little too like they’re in a relationship. Either way, it’s not how he wants to
come off.
He opens up his front door and walks into the house, holding his breath and
listening for his dad. Nothing.
“Pops?” Mickey calls out, closing the door behind him. “You home?”
The kitchen is still a mess; one of the chairs is knocked over on the floor,
the table has plates left on it with mac and cheese, the pot still on the
stove. There’s blood on the floor also and Mickey shakes his head, because
coming from the Gallagher’s house to this feels like a blow to the gut.
There’s a rag on the counter and Mickey runs it under the sink, ringing it out
so it’s not dripping wet and get’s on his hands and knees, scrubbing the blood
away. It’s not a lot, but there are dried up droplets sprayed across the floor,
along with a small little pool of blood where Gian had been laying when Mickey
came in last night. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever cleaned up
blood in his house either, because that’s pretty normal with his dad, just
usually it isn’t a strangers.
Usually it’s his.
Mickey throws the rag into the sink, rinsing the blood off his hands and stops,
listening to see if maybe he can hear his dad, even if it’s just snoring.
Nothing. It’s silent in the house and nothing about it feels fine and his gut
is telling him to leave, to get the hell out and not walk any further into the
house, but he isn’t listening.
“Pops?” Mickey calls out, walking out of the kitchen and down the hallway; his
bedroom door is open and the light is on in his room and now his stomach is
twisting inside him. “Terry?”
“Is that you,” Terry’s voice reverberates from inside Mickey’s room, his words
slurred and slow, and Mickey takes the last few steps, standing in the door
frame now, seeing his room tore to shreds: his mattress flipped over leaning
against the wall, his drawers all opened and papers, along with all his weapons
(a metal bat, some brass knuckles and a pistol) covering the floor of his room
and his dad is sitting down in the middle of it all, leaning on one of his arms
and looking up at Mickey, eyes glossed over and his face has this vindictive
evil glare to it.
“What the…” but before Mickey can finish he sees what’s in his dad’s hand,
crumpled. Mickey can feel his heart stop beating, his breathing stops working
and the knots in his stomach make him want to puke.
In his dad’s hand is the only shred of evidence in his house that he’s gay. The
only thing he’s ever kept hidden; a picture of some guy jerking off that he had
found in an alleyway one night. He kept it under his mattress, because when the
fuck is anyone going to go look through it, not to mention he had it hidden in
an envelope so it wouldn’t stick out.
And yet here he is, seeing the picture crumpled in his dad’s hand, and he can
literally feel the ground moving beneath him, and his life caving in on itself.
“You fucking faggot,” his dad pushes himself up, throwing the paper at Mickey,
and Mickey can’t seem to move, can’t seem to do much of anything. He feels
numb, as if this has to be some sick sort of nightmare, but his dad is inching
closer to him, and he’s screaming now, calling Mickey every fucked up term her
can come up with for being gay and Mickey’s taking it, because he knows there’s
nothing else he can do.
The lowest thing in the world to his father is being gay; his dad has told him
multiple times he’d rather Mickey be dead than gay, in fact his dad has always
been sort of hell bent on making that a prominent point because maybe all along
his dad knew he was gay, and knew this day would come and was trying his best
in his own fucked up way to avoid it. Scare Mickey so bad that he would never
come out, never subject his dad to this; or maybe his dad is just a piece of
shit homophobic asshole who really would rather Mickey be dead.
Mickey doesn’t know which reason it is, but he does know his dad hates gays.
“Fucking fudge packing piece of shit cock sucking,” his dad doesn’t seem to be
slowing down and now he’s almost to Mickey and it somehow makes him snap back
into reality, realize this isn’t some fucked up dream and his dad may in fact
kill him.
Too late.
Mickey goes to run but Terry picks up the pistol off the floor and Mickey hears
a bang pop off before there’s a sharp pain shooting into his arm, causing him
to fall face first on the floor, his already fucked up nose collides into the
wood and he can taste blood now. The pain in his arm is hot and he grinds his
teeth together, sitting up against the wall and seeing the side of his right
arm, a bleeding hole. Bullet must have gone straight through.
“I’m gonna fucking-” Terry’s threat is silenced when he loses his balance,
falls forward, dropping the gun on the process and hitting himself against
Mickey’s door, then into the frame and finally colliding down on the floor
right by Mickey.
“Fuck,” Mickey groans, feeling his eyes welling up, the warm blood all over his
hand which is now holding his arm, trying to apply pressure. “Fuck!”
Mickey pushes his back against the wall and uses it to push himself up,
spitting out blood that is dripping from his nose into his mouth, and his nose
is causing just as much pain as his gunshot. He rushes to the kitchen, grabbing
the phone off the wall and calling the cops; he knows ratting out family isn’t
okay, but he also isn’t going to die because Terry’s a fucking psychopath.
Mickey sits down, taking the scarf off of his neck and wrapping it as tight as
he can on his arm, watching the dark red blood seep into the fabric and spread
around. He grabs a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and holds it up to
his nose, wincing at the shock from the coldness and the pain coursing over his
face.
His heart isn’t slowing down, and his leg won’t stay still, bouncing up and
down in nerves, listening to see if his dad gets up while he waits for the
cops. They show up pretty quickly, probably because they’ve been to his house a
million other times.
“He’s in the hallway,” Mickey says, as the police go to get his dad; the
paramedics coming in after to take him to the hospital.
It’s all so dramatic and surreal and somehow Mickey still thinks he’s going to
wake up, that this is all going to be some insane nightmare and that his dad
didn’t just shoot him because he found gay porn in his room, but as he walks
outside and sees the flashing lights from the cop cars, the ambulance and all
the neighbors watching, he knows he’s awake.
“Mickey!” Ian comes rushing up, his eyes wide as saucers and his cheeks flushed
and he looks so worried that Mickey can’t help but smirk. “Oh my God! Are
you...is this?”
“Gallagher,” Mickey says, tasting blood when he opens his mouth. “I’m good.”
“I’m coming to the hospital.”
Before Mickey can argue, say anything, Ian is running back to his house,
probably to tell his family where he’s going to be and Mickey is being sat in
the back of an ambulance, somehow smiling because of Ian.
-
After a few stitches and a nose cast, which he is going to take off the minute
he is out of the hospital, Mickey is good to go, or at least the doctors are
done with him. Now he’s sitting on the uncomfortable sky blue padded chairs in
the waiting room because Ian hasn’t come yet and he doesn’t want to leave
knowing Ian said he’d come.
And just like that Ian comes rushing into the waiting room, eyes frantically
looking around until they land on Mickey and his posture, his facial expression
and his whole body relaxes; he still runs over though, out of breath, and sits
down next to Mickey, putting his hand out and resting it under Mickey’s chin,
looking over his face.
“This is because,” Ian says, his voice choking off, and his eye’s look
bloodshot, puffy and he’s definitely been crying the whole way here.
“Nah,” Mickey says, already knowing Ian is blaming himself for giving the
hickeys. “He didn’t even see the hickeys.”
“Then why?”
“A picture of some dude jerking it under my bed,” Mickey says, snorting out a
laugh because really, after he’s been fucking around with Ian, coming back with
hickeys, his dad shoots him because of some gay picture hidden under his bed.
It’s a joke.
“He did this,” Ian’s hands gesture up and down, “because of one picture.”
“I told you. He’ll kill me.” Mickey gnaws at his lower lip, shaking his head
and letting out a sigh. “At least he broke his parole. He’s gonna be in jail
for a long time. Not to mention the gun was illegal and on the way here I told
the guys in the ambulance it was Terry’s.”
“Smart thinking,” Ian says, his voice sounding broken and his gaze turned down.
“Ian. I’m okay.”
“Okay,” but Ian doesn’t look up.
They leave, Ian looking like he’s on the verge of a breakdown at any minute and
Mickey just happy to be alive, happy his dad is going to be gone for a while
and happy that he’s with Ian, even if it’s all under the grimmest of
circumstances.
“Can I stay at yours again?” Mickey asks, walking next to Ian who hasn’t said a
word since they left.
“Of course,” Ian says, stopping dead in his tracks and looking Mickey in the
eyes, “don’t ever ask again, okay?”
“Ian, I’m not just gonna show up like I fucking live there.”
“Well you can. I’m just,” Ian starts walking again and Mickey follows along.
“It’s bullshit. You’re dad fucking tries and kill you and it’s all just fucked
up.”
“But don’t forget,” Mickey smirks, nudging Ian, “not because of the giant
hickeys I got from a gay hookup. No. A fucking picture under my fucking bed.”
Mickey starts to laugh and Ian smirks, shaking his head and then he starts to
laugh too. Hearing Ian laugh, and knowing that Ian’s okay, makes everything
somehow all right.
“So does this mean you’re not gonna be able to jerk off,” Ian asks, pointing to
Mickey’s arm. “Since it’s your right arm and all.”
“Fuck off, Gallagher.”
“I’m just saying, you might need help.”
“Oh,” Mickey says, his eyebrows raising and Ian gives him a quick wink. “Good
thing you have a working arm and mouth.”
“Oh you have no idea.”
Chapter End Notes
     I mean now that Terry's gone there can only be sexy time and love so
     don't hate me for this chapter! More to come!
***** i love...this *****
Chapter Summary
     Mickey's arm is healed and his nose doesn't hurt anymore so dick
     sucking it is.
Chapter Notes
     Okay let me just say that this is a filler chapter because I'm
     shifting gears to start moving this story on to the final chapters!!
     Unedited as always! Sorry for not updating last night! I was going to
     maybe add more onto this but decided against it for some reasons
     which I won't get into. Anyways! Hope you guys enjoy! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Mickey’s sipping on a cup of coffee, black, and rubbing his right arm which is
almost healed, not quite but it’s no longer this bloody hole. He’s been
spending a lot of time at Ians, actually almost every night. The only night he
hadn’t was when Mandy finally came back from Gian’s. That was a rough night.
Explaining to her why his dad went off on him, but she didn’t hate him or even
make jokes, she just hugged him, told him she was glad he was okay and that she
didn’t care if he was gay.
It was a huge relief off his shoulders.
She’s been spending most of her time at Gian’s, although sometimes they come
over and stay at their house; the whole atmosphere has toned down since Terry
got locked up, calmer, more happy? Although, Mickey wouldn’t call it happy, but
he definitely doesn’t walk around on eggshells anymore, fearful that Terry will
have some insane rage and try and kill him and Mandy.
Ian’s family has been really chill about it all, not really making comments on
it, welcoming him in as if he is one of their own. Maybe Ian talked to them
about it, told them to be accepting, or maybe that’s just how they are, caring
for family and shit. The Gallaghers have this weird aura about them and Mickey
doesn’t understand it. How can a family with so many fucked up things be so
positive in the face of it all? Somehow they do and it usually involves them
being together, eating dinner together, watching tv together, celebrating
things together.
Family really seems to matter to them, and Mickey’s never had that, never even
realized that anyone can have a normalish family. At least no one on the south
side that is. Sure, those white bread happy middle class families seem perfect
and loving and it’s gross, and yet, with the Gallaghers, Mickey likes it. They
care for each other in a way Mickey’s never seen, or felt.
Ian walks down the stairs, only in boxers, and Mickey looks him up and down,
not worrying about what anyone will think. Everyone else in the house is gone
at school and work, so he can stare all he fucking wants, and he wants.
Ian’s abs are fucking amazing, Mickey never knew he could be this attracted to
muscles but goddamn does Ian make him attracted to every muscle on his body.
Ian has this perfect v shape leading down his waist and Mickey wants to just
lick all the way down until he’s sucking Ian’s cock.
“Morning,” Ian says, stretching his arms up and leaning back and he’s got to be
doing this just to get Mickey excited because he chokes on his coffee and Ian
laughs, walking over and sitting down next to him, legs spread open wide. “You
good?”
“Yeah,” Mickey coughs out, licking his bottom lip and smiling, “fucking
peachy.”
“Good,” Ian smirks, rubbing his hand down his chest and patting his stomach,
and Mickey leans forward in his seat without even realizing. “Your nose almost
healed?”
“I think it is,” Mickey says, and his voice comes out strained, his eyes
focusing on Ian’s lap, and the visible hard on that Mickey can see. “I mean, we
can always test it.”
“Oh yeah,” Ian says, and Mickey can see his dick twitch in his boxers, “how?”
Mickey kicks the chair back and it screeches loudly on the tile but he doesn’t
care, all he wants is Ian. He can’t get down on his knees fast enough, in fact,
he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a bruise on both of them later on, but it
will be worth it.
Mickey looks up at Ian, his face in between his legs, his mouth touching the
tip of Ian’s cock in his boxers.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” Mickey breathes out, rubbing both his
hands up Ian’s thighs, watching Ian nod and bite at his lower lip.
“My arm and jaw could use a break,” Ian jokes, and Mickey shakes his head,
reaching the band of Ian’s boxers and pulling them down, his dick springing
free and slapping against his stomach.
Ian’s already leaking and Mickey licks it off before closing his mouth around
Ian’s head, sucking tight as he moves down, hearing Ian groan as he fits Ian’s
whole cock in his mouth.
Mickey wanted this, missed it even, and now he’s healed enough to where he can
finally get Ian off, with more than just his left hand, which he knows isn’t
the best. His right hand is palming at his own cock in his sweatpants, while
Ian grips the back of his head and pushes him down, jerking forward into his
mouth; it’s fucking hot as hell.
“Just like that,” Ian says, tightening his grip on Mickey’s hair, “fuck.”
Mickey takes his other hand and rubs Ian’s balls, moving his mouth down until
he’s sucking on them, fitting both in his mouth and jerking Ian off at the same
time, listening to Ian curse as his feet tighten and he breathes out, hitched.
He yanks his sweats down just enough to stroke himself, slick his own dick up
with the precome, and fuck, it feels great.
Ian keeps jerking into his mouth, holding the back of his head, face fucking
him, but Mickey isn’t complaining and with each jerk Ian does, Mickey’s dick
feels like it’s getting more and more hard in his hand.
The kitchen door slams open and Mickey can feel his whole body tense up and he
falls back, yanking up his sweatpants; his hard on is already gone, as Karen
and Lip come fumbling in, kissing and groping, not even noticing Mickey on his
knees in front of naked ass Ian. Or at least they didn’t but now both Lip and
Karen are looking at Mickey and his cheeks are burning, his heart is pounding
and he feels like he may throw up.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Ian starts, pulling up his boxers as Mickey hops
to his feet, frantic.
“Oh my God,” Karen says, her mouth going from gaped open to a sly smile. “So,
you’re gay, Mickey? Never would have thought it.”
“I’m not,” Mickey breathes out, running his hands through his hair, feeling his
stomach twisted in knots. “Fuck. Listen, don’t fucking tell anyone, okay?”
“I won’t,” she says, but she’s still smiling and Mickey wants to bitch slap
that fucking smile right off her face. That’s the smile of a lying bitch and
Mickey knows it, but he isn’t going to hit her, she’s a girl after all and
Mickey isn’t a complete delinquent. “So,” she twirls her blond hair around her
index finger and raises her eyebrows, “who bottoms?”
“Karen!” Lip coughs, yanking her by her hand and moving towards the stairs.
“Well, this was uncomfortable. Catch you guys later.”
Karen runs up the stairs with Lip, giggling and then Mickey can hear them
kissing and most likely Karen getting slammed up against the wall as Lip fucks
her.
Mickey’s heart is still pounding and he still feels like he might puke, but Ian
doesn’t look so worried, in fact, he looks pretty fine for someone who just had
their brother walk in on them getting head.
“Fuck,” Mickey starts pacing, “people can’t think I’m gay.”
“Calm down, Mick,” Ian says, standing up and pulling Mickey towards him,
putting his hands on Mickey’s hips so that they’re face to face. “Don’t worry,
okay,” Ian kisses him, but Mickey doesn’t kiss back, he just let’s Ian do it
before he pulls his face away. “Mickey, look at me. If it gets out, no one will
care.”
“How can you say that?” Mickey says, trying to pull away but Ian has his grip
firm on his waist, not letting him get away. “Look at the neighborhood we live
in, Ian.”
“Yeah and?”
“You’re fucking joking right?” Mickey shakes his head, and can feel his face
getting hot with anger. And? Really? That’s what Ian is going to say to him
about this, about people finding out he’s a closet case who sucks dick. People
will beat the shit out of him, maybe even kill him, who knows, but he sure as
fuck knows that ‘and’ isn’t the appropriate reaction.
“Mick,” Ian says, his voice so calm and he has this really small smile, not
some type of smirk as if he’s making fun of Mickey or being condescending, no,
a sincere grin that makes all Mickey’s anger somehow leave. Mickey hates that
Ian is able to do that. “The only people who will gay bash are, well, the
Milkovich’s.”
Mickey’s whole face kind of melts and he feels simultaneously relieved and
amused but he also feels like shit, because that means Ian used to be afraid of
him, used to think he would jump him for being gay, and that hurts. Yeah,
Mickey knows he can be a piece of shit asshole who beats on people, but he
never wants Ian to be afraid of him, at least not now that he likes Ian.
“Oh,” Mickey says, his voice strained, “sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ian says, still wearing that cute smile that Mickey wants to kiss
now more than anything. “I’m just saying, no one will actually care. People
talk about me being gay, sure, but mainly all it’s done for me is get me hook
ups.”
Mickey can feel his eyebrows shoot high up on his face and somehow he feels
jealous because other people have gotten with Ian; he wants to ask how many
hook ups, how far they’ve gotten during said hook ups, but he doesn’t want to
seem like a jealous boyfriend. Boyfriend? He doesn’t even know if that’s what
he and Ian are.
“Just making out here and there,” Ian laughs, and Mickey can feel his face
flush because that means Ian could tell he wanted to know and that’s
embarrassing as fuck. “Point being, no one has ever tried and picked a fight
with me, or has ever done shit to me.”
“Yeah?” Mickey says, feeling his own mouth form into a grin.
“Yeah.”
Mickey leans forward, soft and caring, one hand underneath Ian’s chin, the
other firm against Ian’s lower back, pulling him in and kissing him. Mickey’s
eyes close and flutter as their lips connect, no tongue, no frantic needing in
this kiss, just them, together. The world fades into blackness around Mickey
and all that matters is being in Ian’s arms, all that matters in that Ian isn’t
afraid of him. All that truly matters is that he’s happy being gay as fuck with
Ian.
Mickey pulls away and rubs his thumb along Ian’s bottom lip, smiling, “I love…”
he begins and realizes what he is about to say, “this,” he catches himself.
“Yeah?” Ian teases, pulling Mickey back in for another kiss, and Mickey folds
into Ian, wraps his arms around him and can feel Ian’s heart beat against him,
fast. “I love this too,” he says, his lips still against Mickey’s.
Chapter End Notes
     Alright, so my tumblr is mickeymilkovandamn now if anyone want to
     talk about stuff or heckle me for an update! Also, I'm going to a con
     this weekend so I won't have an update until after that so I feel
     kind of bad leaving on such a short chapter but that's the reason I
     ended it on a sweet note so it wouldn't be some cliffhanger type
     Terry shooting Mickey shit~*~*~*~
***** finger work out *****
Chapter Summary
     Fiona makes Ian go back to school and Mickey reluctantly goes also.
Chapter Notes
     Unedited as usual! Oh my God okay listen I am so sorry it's been
     almost a week and a half since my last update!! The convention I went
     to was just me drunk from Thur-Mon and then back to work and school
     and basically I finally just got the time to finish this chapter!!
     There's going to be probably 2 or 3 more chapters I think so hope you
     guys are still enjoying!! :))
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“School,” Fiona says, mixing eggs on the stove, “you’re going.”
“Fiona,” Ian sighs, looking to Mickey, who’s sitting across from him at the
table, and giving him a wink, “come on.”
“No. I’ve let you have your time off for Mickey and everything that happened
but you’re going. Ian, you and Lip need to graduate, okay? You’re a junior.
This is your most important year.”
“How about one more-”
“School, Ian.”
Mickey snorts and Ian kicks him under the table; he still snickers and kicks
Ian right back, winking at him. Ian rolls his eyes and goes back to trying to
convince Fiona to let him miss just one more day to no avail.
Mickey’s been spending every day with Ian so he’s not really sure what he’s
going to do while Ian’s at school. Maybe he can go back under the bleachers and
chill and do what he was doing before he met Ian and started liking him.
Although, Mickey isn’t even sure what he’s feeling because every time he’s with
Ian, he’s overly happy and nervous and it’s all fucking weird. There’s no way
it can be love, because people don’t fall in love that fast, they can’t.
“You’re going,” Ian says, knocking Mickey out of his thought process.
“Where?” Mickey asks, taking a gulp of his orange juice and purposefully making
some drip on his lower lip so he can lick it off, slowly.
“School, where else?” Ian deadpans.
“No fucking way,” Mickey says, “Fiona’s your sister, not mine. No one in my
family expects me to live till twenty one let alone graduate.”
“Mick, come on. It’ll be fun. Catch up on all the latest stories.”
“No.”
Mickey gets up and brings his dishes with him, eliciting a smile from Fiona as
he rinses them off in the sink. He figures the least her can do is clean up
after himself, with Fiona letting him stay and all.
The other night, Mickey had told Fiona that he was thankful for all she’s done,
although, he did it when no one was awake so no one would hear him. She smiled
and gave him a hug and he was stiff as her arms wrapped around him but he
relaxed and hugged her back, feeling somehow loved? It was all so weird that he
ended it quicker than it began by clearing his throat and walking back
upstairs, but he was happy it happened, still is.
As he’s walking out of the kitchen he lifts his arm and sniffs his armpit; he
needs a shower. Mickey hops up the stairs, skipping every other one and goes
into Ian’s room, where the bag of clothes he brought from his house is lying,
and digs through, smelling them to see if they’re clean enough to wear. Most
are, so he grabs jeans, boxers and a shirt and heads off to the bathroom to
shower.
The water pressure at the Gallaghers isn’t the best, but he isn’t complaining,
because the water heater works, so even though it’s not massaging his back,
it’s still warm as fuck. Mickey closes his eyes and rubs the bar of soap all
over, feeling his muscles relax as the steam rises around him. It feels fucking
fantastic.
Mickey hears the bathroom door open, because almost every door in this house
creaks, making it easy to know when someone is trying to sneak in.
“Hey!” Mickey shouts over the water, “I’m fucking showering.”
The door closes and Mickey figures whoever it was left so he goes back to
scrubbing, running the soap down his chest, over his stomach until he’s rubbing
his dick, and it’s half hard now. He can’t help it.
One of his hands is gently rubbing his balls while the other slides down his
cock, making him let out a soft moan just as the shower curtain flings open.
Mickey covers himself instantly and goes to pull the curtain shut when he
realizes that Ian is standing in front of him, naked.
“What the fuck,” Mickey says, letting his guard down and dropping his hands
from in front of himself, letting Ian get a good look.
“I have to shower since I’m going to school,” Ian says, hopping into the
shower. “Let me get some water you hog.”
Mickey scoots over and lets Ian in front, watching the water hit his hair and
drip down his back, in between the dimples right above his ass and holy fuck,
Ian has the plumpest little ass Mickey has ever seen. Ian runs his hands
through his hair and turns around, facing Mickey now, and Mickey can see that
Ian’s hard now too.
“So you’re not gonna come to school,” Ian says, and Mickey can hear the
emphasis on the word come.
“No,” Mickey gulps, taking the hand that has the soap in it and rubbing it on
Ian’s chest, moving in closer until their cocks are touching.
“You sure?” Ian asks, moving forward and backing Mickey up against the wall at
the end of the shower, leaning in until their lips are touching. “I’d make it
worth your while.”
“Oh yeah?” Mickey says, and he can feel his dick twitching, hard against Ian’s,
can feel Ian’s slicked up soapy chest against his and he wants nothing more
than to fuck Ian right now, in the shower.
Mickey grabs Ian’s shoulder and spins him around so that Ian’s face is against
the wall and his ass is aimed out towards Mickey’s cock.
“Yeah,” Ian groans, his legs spread apart and Mickey’s dick is only inches away
from his ass, and he wants to fuck him raw, make him whimper under his touch,
but he doesn’t know if that’s what Ian wants.
“How would it be worth my time?” Mickey leans in and closes his mouth over
Ian’s earlobe, nipping it and breathing out, feeling Ian shake underneath him.
“You could,” Ian says, backing his ass up until it’s against Mickey’s cock,
“have me anyway.”
Mickey bites his knuckle and looks down, his cock red and hard pushed against
Ian’s ass cheeks. He decides to go with it and grabs his dick, moving it so
that the tip is against Ian’s hole, rubbing it up and down, hearing Ian’s small
words of approval as he backs up into it. Mickey’s not fucking him, not even
close, so how is it that just rubbing his dick against Ian’s hole is already
making him want to come?
“Fuck,” Mickey curses, flipping Ian around, smashing his lips against Ian’s,
his hand gripping the nape of Ian’s neck, pulling him in as close as physically
possible. “I want you.”
“Yeah?” Ian says, biting Mickey’s bottom lip harshly, and Mickey can feel Ian’s
shit grin against his lips. “If you want this all,” Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and
places it on his ass, pushing Mickey’s finger against his hole. Mickey lets out
a strangled breath as his finger pushes in Ian, tight and warm. Ian back
against it, his breath hot on Mickey’s face. “Then you better come to school.”
Ian pulls away quickly and pushes Mickey under the water, laughing. Mickey
flips Ian off and turns around, letting the water run over his face; not a
second later he feels Ian against his back, his lips on his neck, and his hands
on Mickey’s shoulders.
“Don’t hate me,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel Ian’s dick hard against his ass,
and he isn’t sure if he wants to back into it, wants to feel it against his
hole, because he’s never done that before, even really thought of that before.
Mickey always assumed he’d be the one fucking, because the thought of getting
fucked scares him. A cock shoved in his ass just sounds so fucking painful, but
then again every porn he’s ever seen, the guy getting pounded always looks like
they’re enjoying it. So maybe he will too?
“I don’t,” Mickey says, backing up just the slightest, not even sure if it’s
enough to make it noticed.
“Good.” Ian kisses down his neck onto his shoulder and bites, his hand moving
down Mickey’s back until it’s at the base of his back, right above his ass. “Do
you?”
“I’ve never,” Mickey says, feeling his voice get caught in his throat.
“I’m not gonna do it if you don’t want,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel his
shoulders relax and sink in, not even knowing he was that tense.
“Okay.”
Mickey backs up, this time making it known, and Ian moves his hand down in
response. Mickey can feel Ian’s finger against his hole, and it feels strange.
Not bad, but different. It’s slicked up with soap and Ian run his finger up and
down, pushing it against Mickey’s hole, and Mickey can feel it as it slips in,
and he let’s out a groan.
It’s not that it hurts, but it also isn’t this amazing orgasmic feeling that
the people in the pornos seem to make it out to be. Ian’s index finger moves in
a little further until his knuckles are against Mickey’s ass, and Mickey
catches his breath, feeling Ian’s finger inside him, rubbing against him.
Mickey grabs his dick and starts to stroke it, letting himself relax as Ian’s
finger works inside him, moving, until Mickey suddenly sees why the people in
the pornos make that face because whatever the fuck Ian just hit feels fucking
great. Mickey curses and backs into it, gripping his cock tighter as he starts
to rub himself off faster.
“Feels good?” Ian asks, twisting his finger in Mickey, making him nod his head
in response, pushing his ass as far onto Ian as he can.
“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey says, feeling his cock getting harder, his body
tensing up and his ass tightening around Ian’s finger as he comes.
And holy fuck does he come, his whole body seizing up as he shoots out onto the
shower floor, feeling Ian inside him, his eyes rolling back because that was by
far the best orgasm Mickey has ever had. His arm drops down to his side and Ian
pulls out; Mickey leaning his forehead against the wall, letting the water wash
down his back.
“That was fucking amazing,” Mickey pants out, turning around and seeing Ian
bite his lower lip, a smile on his face.
“I’m glad,” Ian says, moving in and kissing Mickey. “There will be plenty more
of that,” he pulls away, patting Mickey’s shoulders, “if you go to school.”
“Fine.”
They finish showering quickly, although, the whole sex in the shower thing took
up a long time so Mickey’s almost positive the entire house knows what went on.
And yet, somehow, that doesn’t phase him? They already know, or at least have
an idea, and they still let him in, let him stay here. They just don’t care.
When they’re dressed and ready to go Fiona is standing by the front door,
making sure Liam is okay and that Debbie and Carl have their lunches. She looks
at both of them and raises an eyebrow, and even though Mickey doesn’t care that
she knows, he can still feel his cheeks getting hot from embarrassment.
“Ian, you better go to school,” Fiona says, and then she turns and looks at
Mickey. “You too, Mickey. You both need to get an education. Make something of
your lives. Okay?”
“I will,” Mickey says, and he feels like he owes it to Fiona to go, because
she’s taking care of everyone and letting him stay and all she wants is for him
to go to school. Although, school is hell on earth and he’s failing all his
classes so there really is no point, but he figures he can go for the time
being just to make Fiona happy.
“And stop fucking in the shower,” she says as they walk out, making Mickey
choke on his spit and Ian’s face beam tomato red. “We don’t need the water bill
any higher than it is.”
Ian is quiet most of the way and Mickey is fine with that, at first. But then
his mind starts to wonder as to why he’s being so silent and he instantly
attributes it to the fingering. Mickey doesn’t want to make Ian awkward or
uncomfortable or anything, and he feels his heart racing in his chest, because
he’s worried Ian’s upset. Mickey feels dumb as fuck for worrying about this
because that’s what girls do in relationships, but he can’t help it, he wants
to know.
“You okay?” Mickey asks, rubbing his hands together trying to make them warm.
“Yeah,” Ian says, turning and smiling.
“Your sister knowing and what happened in the shower,” Mickey let’s out a sigh,
“didn’t freak you out, did it?”
“What? No!” Ian exclaims. “You?”
“Nope,” Mickey says, gnawing at his lower lip. “But just because I let you
finger me,” he whispers, “doesn’t make me a bitch.”
“Mick,” Ian deadpans, “I could fuck you raw and you would never be a bitch.”
“Good.”
Mickey can’t seem to hide this stupid grin on his face the rest of the way to
school. Ian can’t either, and Mickey decides if anyone asks why he’s smiling
like a goddamn fool, he’ll say he smoked a bowl before class. That’ll be
believable enough.
The bell rings right when they walk up to the front of school and Mickey
realizes he’s going to have to say bye to Ian and go to class by himself, which
sucks. He nods his head to Ian and Ian nods back, giving him a wink as he walks
away, making Mickey feel good, like they have their own secret that no one else
is in on.
His first class is Pre-Algebra, because he’s consistently failed that course
since junior high. What the hell is he going to know what x equals in real
life? Nothing.
Mickey sits down at the seat in the corner of the room, furthest from the
teacher and spreads his legs out, arms crossed and he sits and sees people
looking back at him, turning around and whispering. He wants to get up and
leave, hell, fuck them all up, but there’s no point. They’re probably just
whispering about how they haven’t seen him all year, nothing else.
“Mr. Milkovich,” his teacher, Mr. Proctor, says. “Nice of you to stop in.”
“Yeah,” Mickey says, glaring at the bald old ass man standing in the front of
the classroom. “Figured I could use some math to figure out how old you are and
why you haven’t retired yet.”
“I will not have you coming into my class and disrupting,” he says, as his face
gets red.
“Calm down. I won’t interrupt your important lesson.”
Mickey smirks as his teacher turns around, obviously flustered, and starts to
write on the board. All Mickey can see if just a bunch of numbers over each
other and letter and it looks like he’s in the matrix or something. Mr. Proctor
stops to ask the class about what x equals and they all say it at the same time
in the same bored ass monotone voice and Mickey cringes.
He remembers now why he never shows up to school.
“Hey,” the girl next to him whispers, tapping her finger on his desk.
“What?” he says, a bit of an annoyed tone in his voice; and it’s not that he
wants to be a dick or anything, he just doesn’t want to talk.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“About you being gay? Everyone’s saying it.”
Mickey can feel his heart plummet down into his stomach, making him want to
puke. His breath gets caught in his chest and he has to force himself to not
breathe out heavily, making it known.
“Who the fuck is saying that?” He can hear his voice, hear the fear in it, and
really hopes that all she can hear is anger.
“Karen Jackson,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Just wanted to know.”
Mickey doesn’t say anything back, he just sits in his chair, his knuckles white
as he grips the edge of his desk, his leg tapping up and down vigorously. He
can feel her eyes on him, watching him, and it’s taking all his energy not to
flip the desk over and scream at the top of his lungs, beat the shit out of
every kid talking about him, but he knows he can’t.
Well he can, but there will be no point, because the rumor is out there, and
now all he can do is pray people don’t believe it or spread it. But he knows
that’s wishful thinking.
“Mickey,” the girls says, but he doesn’t look. “Hey, listen, no one cares. I
mean, everyone who’s talking about it just thinks it’s crazy but no one
actually gives a fuck.” Mickey keeps his gaze forward, watching the teacher
scribble on the board; he can feel her eyes still glued to him. “There’s a gay
straight alliance club here, dude. No one cares.”
“Well I do,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip until he can taste blood.
“I get that.” Mickey finally looks up; she pushes her brown hair behind her
ears and gives him a half smile. “I was nervous when I came out too.”
The bell rings and she gets out of the chair and bolts out of the room, leaving
Mickey in the corner trying to figure out what he’s going to do. There’s no way
he can last the whole day, let alone another period. What she said might be
true, maybe no one gives a shit, but he doesn’t want to stay around and find
out. Or better yet, he can’t. The thought alone scares him. People now know
he’s gay, probably know who he’s fucking, and sooner or later everyone will
know and no one is going to treat him the same, probably treat him like a
bitch.
He’s not a bitch.
Mickey gets up and rushes through the hallways, feeling as if everyone and
their fucking mothers are staring at him, talking about him. He flings open the
double door and makes his way out into the crisp air, quickly making his way
across the field and going to his safe zone, his spot.
It’s empty like always and he squats down, catching his breath, letting it all
sink in. Karen Jackson told what she saw, okay, he can easily tell people she’s
a fucking liar. But he’s seen shit like this happen before, something comes out
about someone and they try desperately to reverse it, just making the rumor
even more valid.
So no, he can’t go around and say anything. He can ignore it, act like it does
not phase him, and if anyone tries anything beat the living shit out of them so
they know he’s still no one to fuck with. That seems like the best option, the
most realistic option given this situation.
“Mick,” a voice calls from the other end of the bleachers, and Mickey
recognizes it as soon as he hears it, Ian.
“Hey, Gallagher,” Mickey says, “couldn’t last a day either, huh?”
“I heard what happened,” Ian says, sitting down next to him, putting his arm
over Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey doesn’t pull away, instead he rests his head on
Ian’s shoulder. “Fucking Karen. That bitch.”
“Yeah,” Mickey says, sighing into Ian.
“I figured you’d be here. You okay?”
“I’m okay now,” he admits, and Ian squeezes Mickey shoulder, nudging into him.
“I freaked out at first, not gonna lie. But I figure with Terry gone, I should
be okay. I hope.”
“You’ll be more than okay,” Ian leans in and gives him a quick peck, and Mickey
can’t help but smile. “You got me.”
“Well in that case,” Mickey says, leaning in until their lips are just barely
touching. “I’ll be great.”
Ian pushes their lips together and Mickey melts into it, feeling Ian’s arms
around him, his mouth soft against his own and it all feels okay. As if people
knowing isn’t a bad thing, but maybe a good thing? Maybe now he can just be
happy, with Ian, in public and not give a fuck what anyone thinks, says.
Although, he isn’t to that point yet, definitely not. But right now, being in
Ian’s arms, kissing him without fear, makes him think that maybe some day he’ll
be good enough to do this. Be open with Ian.
“Let’s go home,” Ian says, and Mickey nods his head, standing up and
interlacing his fingers with Ian’s, feeling super gay but at the same time
super happy.
“Once we’re out from behind the bleachers we’re not holding hands,” Mickey
says.
“I figured,” Ian says, knocking his shoulder into Mickey and laughing. “Baby
steps.”
Chapter End Notes
     As always you can come talk to me about it or whatever
     mickeymilkovandamn.tumblr.com :)
***** aint nobody fucking with my clique *****
Chapter Summary
     Mickey and Ian go back to Ian's house after finding out what Karen
     did.
Chapter Notes
     Alright!! So, my friend Amy actually edited most of this chapter! But
     then I wrote the last little bit before she could and imma post it
     now because ~*~*~update~*~*~ but anyways there is only going to be
     one more chapter after this so!!! Hope you guys enjoy!! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“So,” Ian says, sitting next to Mickey on the front porch of the Gallagher’s
house. “You wanna smoke a bowl and forget about school?”
“Sure,” Mickey says, letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. “I still
can’t believe it got around that fucking quick, like do people have nothing
better to do?”
“Not really.” Ian laughs, nudging Mickey with his shoulder. “Imma go get my
pipe and weed. Be right back.”
Mickey nods and Ian hops up, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Mickey
outside in the cold to think. His thoughts are everywhere, but the one that he
can’t seem to shake out of his mind is how he feels for Ian, how he
wholeheartedly cares for him in a way he never truly thought possible.
Mickey isn’t some closet romantic sap, he never thought he’d fall in love and
marry, or any of the normal shit someone is supposed to do. Nope, Mickey always
assumed he’d knock some hood rat up and be forced to marry her, living the life
he already lives but with some chick and kid following him around.
It never dawned on Mickey that he might actually act on his feelings, for men,
or somehow find a guy who can accept him for the low life he is. And yet here
he is on Ian’s porch, feeling like he wants to run inside and kiss him, tell
Ian how much he means to Mickey or be as gay as he wants because he can with
Ian.
He can be himself with Gallagher. No worrying about being judged, no worrying
about hiding his emotions or acting like he doesn’t care about anything,
nothing but being with Ian. And Mickey isn’t sure what that is? Is that what
love is? Being able to be yourself, be comfortable with another person?
Because if that’s what love is, well fuck, Mickey’s got it bad.
The front door opens back up and before Mickey can turn around, Ian is next to
him, shoulders touching and is holding the pipe out to Mickey, filled.
“You can hit it first,” Ian says, handing it over along with a lighter. “Figure
you need it a little more than me.”
Mickey takes the pipe, licking his lips before placing it against them, holding
the lighter out above it and flicking on the flame. He breathes in deep and
slow, watching the flame suck into the bowl and light the green up, the smoke
filling his lungs. He can feel his eyes roll back as he pulls the lighter away,
letting the pipe drop from his mouth and holding the smoke in his lungs.
Without thinking, Mickey grabs the back of Ian’s neck and pulls him close,
until their mouths are just barely touching and exhales into Ian’s mouth,
watching Ian’s eyes flutter, a grin forming across his face as Mickey pulls
away.
“Fuck,” Mickey says, biting his lower lip, watching Ian open his mouth as the
smoke rises out into the air and fuck is it hot as hell to watch.
“You know,” Ian says, grabbing the pipe and lighting up, breathing in and
leaning in, Mickey responding by opening up his mouth and moving closer. “You
still get me anyway you want,” he says into Mickey’s mouth, Mickey breathing in
the smoke. “For going to school.”
“Oh yeah?” Mickey blows the smoke out, feeling his dick already getting hard in
his jeans. “What if what I want,” he leans in, resting his hand on Ian’s thigh,
right under his dick, “is for you to do anything to me?”
“That still constitutes as having me anyway.” Ian takes his hand and puts it
over Mickey’s moving it up just the slightest until Mickey’s hand is on Ian’s
cock.
“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groans out, cupping his hand on Ian’s dick and
stroking up and down, listening to Ian’s breathing as he tightens his grip.
“Let’s go up,” Ian begins and then bites down on his knuckle, “to my room.
Yeah? Fuck.”
Mickey strokes one more time, deliberately going slow as he does it, watching
Ian bite his lower lip, popping up and clearing his throat. Ian stands in front
of Mickey, his hard on showing in his jeans and with Mickey sitting on the
stairs, well, his mouth is perfectly lined up with Ian’s cock. Mickey stands
up, gives Ian a wink and walks to the front door, opening it for Ian and
letting him in first.
As soon as Mickey closes the door behind him Ian has him pinned against the
door, mouth already on his. Before Mickey can react, Ian takes his arms and
puts them under Mickey’s thighs lifting him up into the air, his ass rutting
against Ian’s cock as he wraps his legs around Ian’s waist.
“Fuck,” Ian groans, pushing against Mickey, and Mickey is holding onto Ian’s
shoulders, grinding down on his cock, feeling it against him.
“Lose the pants,” Mickey says, dropping off of Ian, scrambling to take his
pants off. Kicking off his shoes, Mickey drops his baggy pants to his ankles
and kicks them off, one leg at a time, watching Ian pull his down, his dick
popping out of his boxers.
“Where were we?”
Ian has Mickey pinned up against the door again, lifting him up and now Mickey
can feel Ian’s cock against his hole, pushing through his boxer briefs, and it
feels fucking amazing. He bounces down on it, his hands reaching down and
pulling off Ian’s underwear completely.
Mickey never thought he would pinned up against a door with some guy holding
him in the air, cock hard against his ass, but he isn’t complaining. It feels
fucking great.
Ian’s hands move from holding onto Mickey’s waist down to the band of his boxer
briefs, yanking them down until they can’t go any further, pushing his cock
hard against Mickey’s hole. Mickey’s breath is hitched as he grinds down,
spitting in his hand and rubbing it on Ian’s cock.
“Fuck,” Mickey says, feeling Ian’s, now slicked up, cock rubbing against him,
pushing forward but not going in.
“Condom and lube,” Ian breathes out, pulling back and letting Mickey drop down.
Mickey pulls his underwear down and kicks those off too.
“Do you have that?” Mickey’s always used a condom even though he doesn’t have
one now, but he’s never used lube. Never thought he’d use it
”Yeah, in my room. Come on.”
Ian runs up the stairs and Mickey follows him, feeling some what strange
running through the Gallagher house almost completely naked, and yet not really
caring that much. Mickey watches Ian dig through his top drawer as he sits on
the bed, still hard.
“Here we go,” Ian says, pulling out a clear bottle filled half way, and Mickey
can feel his eyebrows rise in a questioning look, because half a bottle of
lube, gone? “Dude,” Ian laughs, “I use it to jerk off with.”
“Oh.” MIckey can feel his face getting hot with embarrassment. “I’ve never used
that shit before. Just do it in the shower.”
Ian wiggles his eyebrows and sits down next to Mickey on the bed, still hard
just like Mickey. Mickey puts his hand on the nape of Ian’s neck and pulls him
closer, gently, pushing their lips together, soft and tenderly.
“You’re sure you want this,” Ian asks, biting Mickey’s bottom lip lightly. “I
want to make sure you’re good.”
“Gallagher,” Mickey deadpans, “I want this, okay? I want you.”
“Okay.”
Ian reaches out and pulls at Mickey’s shirt, raising it over Mickey and taking
it off, kissing down his neck and biting Mickey’s nipple. Mickey flinches and
feels his dick twitch because goddamn did that feel great. Ian kisses down
further until he wraps his mouth around Mickey’s cock, and Mickey’s head falls
back, feeling Ian close tight around him, moving down slowly.
“Yeah, fuck.” Mickey puts his hand on the back of Ian’s head and pushes him
down, feeling Ian’s tongue work around his head. One of Ian’s hands jerks
Mickey off and the other is rubbing his balls, moving one finger down until
it’s pushing against Mickey’s hole.
Mickey looks down and watches Ian’s mouth over his dick, his cheeks sucking in,
flushed. Ian reaches to the bottle lying on the bed and snaps the cap off,
pouring a small bit of lube on the tip of his finger, moving it back down
against Mickey.
Ian’s finger slicks up Mickey’s hole, the lube is cold and makes him flinch,
but as Ian rubs his finger over a few times it warms up. Mickey feels Ian’s
finger slide in and he let’s out a groan, feeling Ian move in and out, slowly.
“You good?” Ian asks, no longer sucking Mickey’s dick.
“Yeah, keep going,” Mickey says, lying back on the bed, his ass at the edge.
Mickey can hear the cap on the lube snap open again and then Ian has a second
finger against him, pushing in, stretching him out. Mickey closes his eyes and
relaxes, feeling Ian’s fingers slide in; he bites his knuckles as Ian starts to
move in and out, a little faster this time.
Mickey grabs at his dick and it’s leaking against his stomach. He starts to
jerk himself off, feeling Ian inside him, pushing against him and it feels
fucking amazing. His dick is getting harder and he knows if he keeps going like
this it’s only a matter of time before he comes.
“Fuck me,” Mickey says, stopping himself from jerking off any further. “I want
you to fuck me, Ian. Please.”
Ian pulls his fingers out and Mickey wants him back inside because nothing he’s
ever felt has made him want to come that badly. Ian tears open the condom and
rolls it onto his cock; Mickey can see that he’s leaking as he puts it on. With
the bottle of lube, Ian oils up his cock, rubbing up and down before he lies on
top of Mickey, cock hard against him.
“Mick.” Ian breathes out, and Mickey nods, because he wants it, needs it.
Ian pushes forward, lying on top of Mickey, their mouths touching. Mickey
watches Ian’s eye’s widen as he pushes in, and Mickey pushes his lips against
Ian’s letting him inside, feeling Ian’s cock send him over.
“Fuck. Mick,” Ian groans, kissing Mickey as he jerks forward. Mickey digs his
hands into Ian’s shoulders. “Yeah. Fuck.”
Mickey grabs at his cock like he needs it, gripping it hard and jerking it
fast, wanting to come, wanting to feel Ian inside him as he shoots all over
himself. And he does. Mickey can already feel the tension building and he let’s
out a low guttural groan as he comes, thick on his stomach.
“Yeah,” Ian says, slowing down, “I’m gonna,” he says as he jerks forward one
last time, making Mickey’s eyes roll back.
“I love you,” Mickey says, without even thinking, hearing the words come out
before he can register what he just said.
“I love you, too,” Ian says, leaning in and kissing Mickey.
They lie next to each other after, their fingers intertwining and Ian resting
his head on Mickey’s chest. Mickey can’t seem to stop smiling, because Ian said
it back, Ian loves him. No one ever loves Mickey. Mandy loves him because she
has to, because she’s his sister, but no one has ever said that, meant it.
“So, Gallagher,” Mickey says, smirking. “You’re no longer a virgin.”
“Yeah,” Ian says, “it feels good.”
“I bet it does,” Mickey teases, nudging Ian with his arm.
They stay lying on the bed, in each other’s arms and Mickey wants to stay like
this forever. In Ian’s arms, comfortable and in love.
Mickey hears the front door slam open and flails up, grabbing for his clothes
but realizing that they’re all downstairs.
“Fuck!” Mickey hisses, “all our clothes are downstairs.”
“Mickey!” Mandy’s voice. What the fuck is Mandy doing here? “Mickey you here!”
“Just a second!” Ian calls out and Mickey socks him in the arm.
“We’re naked.”
Ian laughs and opens up his drawer, tossing Mickey a pair of pants, a shirt and
boxers. Mickey changes faster than he ever has in his life, hopping with one
leg down the hallway as he pulls the pants up, hearing Mandy starting to walk
up the stairs.
Mandy reaches the upstairs just as Mickey and Ian are fully dressed, Mickey
bumping into her as he rushes down the hallway.
“Is it true?” Mandy says, cracking her knuckles. “Did that skank bitch really
say shit about you?”
“Yeah,” Mickey says, feeling his shoulders relax because she doesn’t seem to
notice that he’s wearing Ian’s clothes.
“Fucking bitch! Let’s go,” Mandy grabs Mickey’s hand, “you may not be able to
hit a girl, but I can.”
“I’m coming,” Ian chimes in, following them down the stairs. “I hate Karen.”
Mickey follows Mandy to the school and she’s cursing the entire time, talking
about how she’s going to beat the shit out of Karen for fucking with her
brother and that who fucking cares if he’s gay, he can still kill anyone who
fucks with him. Mickey smiles and feels good, because he’s surrounded by the
two people who actually love him for who he is.
They reach the school and the bell rings for lunch, Mandy timed it perfectly.
They walk into the lunch room and Mandy scopes the place out, Mickey watches
her as she looks up and down every table for Karen.
“You’re sisters awesome,” Ian whispers.
“I know,” Mickey says.
“There she is,” Mandy says, storming forward. Mickey can see Karen sitting at a
table by herself in the corner, probably alone because no one wants to even be
close to her. “Hey bitch!” Mandy yells, slamming her hands down on the table.
“You really should only open your mouth for cock like you usually do because
you fucked up this time. You talked about the wrong person.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “If it isn’t skankovich coming to
defend her bitch of a brother.”
Mandy doesn’t even say anything back, instead she lunges over the table,
grabbing Karen by the back of her head and slamming her face down on the table;
Mickey can hear a loud pop and see blood pool out under her face. Karen pulls
back, screeching and holding her nose, blood dripping off her hands.
“What was that bitch?” Mandy snears, hopping over the table. “You fucked,” she
slams Karen’s head back down against the table, “with the wrong,” lifting her
up and slamming her face down again, “person.”
Karen falls back, her face completely bloody, and Mickey is pretty positive her
nose is fucking broken multiple times, because fuck. Mandy slams her face down
one last time and walks away, patting Mickey on the shoulder.
“I think she gets the point,” Mandy says. “Any bitch says anything about my
brother again!” she yells to everyone watching, “will end up looking worse than
this bitch.”
“Holy shit,” Ian says, “that was awesome.”
“You must be Ian,” Mandy says, cracking her knuckles again. “Hurt my brother
and the same goes for you.”
“For sure,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel himself smiling, because Ian doesn’t
know it, but that is Mandy’s way of accepting him in, and he’s happy she did.
“Come on,” she says, walking past them, “let’s leave before security comes.”
Mickey looks back as they walk out and sees Karen stumbling, holding her bloody
nose, and it looks like her whole face is covered in blood. He can see a gash
above her eye and laughs because no one is coming to help her, make sure she’s
okay. Serves her right.
Everyone knows not to fuck with the Milkoviches.
They all go back to Mickey’s house because Fiona can’t know they ditched.
Mickey isn’t really sure how he feels being back at his house because it’s
different. Mandy knows about him, his dad’s locked away and his boyfriend,
because yeah that’s what Ian is, is hanging out in the living room with him. No
worrying. No fear.
“I’m going to go over to Gian’s in a little,” Mandy says, sitting on the couch
next to Ian and Mickey. “You good, Mickey?”
“Yeah,” he says, patting Mandy on the knee, “thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“I’m so happy you beat the shit out of her,” Ian chimes in, leaning forward to
see over Mickey. “She’s such a bitch. Tried to fuck Frank once. I don’t know
why Lip is still with her.”
“Why do guys do anything?” Mandy stands up, stretches and sprawls back down,
kicking her legs up on the coffee table. “They only think with their dicks,
what do you expect?”
“Lip’s smart though. He should know better.”
“She probably gives good head,” Mickey says, shrugging his shoulders. “Either
way, she’s a bitch.”
Mandy grabs the Xbox controller and challenges Ian; Mickey watches as they both
slam their fingers down on the buttons, cursing at each other, but laughing
too. They’re getting along and Mickey leans back, smiling, not saying a word.
“Suck it!” Ian shouts, slamming the controller down the couch and thrusting his
hips in the air. “I annihilated you!”
“You won by like a few points,” Mandy says dryly, “calm down.”
They start to go back and forth, bickering about who’s better, and all Mickey
can do is laugh, smile. Being here, with these people, is what his life is now
and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.
Because this is his family.
Chapter End Notes
     As always you can hit me up on tumblr if you want to at
     mickeymilkovandamn :)
***** our spot *****
Chapter Summary
     They head back to the Gallagher's house after ditching school in
     hopes Fiona won't know.
Chapter Notes
     Unedited as always! And alas the last chapter!!! Hope you guys
     enjoy!! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Mickey opens up the oven, smelling the pizza rolls and man do they smell good.
Ian is sitting on the couch, beating the last level on some shooting game that
him and Mandy were playing before she left for Gian’s. Mickey puts the tray on
the stove and opens up the top drawer by the sink, fishing through the mess of
utensils until he finds the plastic spatula jammed in the back.
He fills two plates evenly full with pizza rolls, walking into the living room
and plopping down on the couch next to Ian, placing the plate on the table,
watching Ian as his fingers slam down on the controller, his eyes squinting
intently as his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, killer,” Mickey teases, “food.”
“In a minute,” Ian says, standing up and aiming the controller towards the tv,
as if that’ll make him win. “I just have one more,” he stops talking to
repeatedly tap a button over and over again. Mickey can see the gun on the
screen unloading on some giant ass purple like alien, until it falls down on
the ground. “I did it! I fucking won!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes, “you beat the game. What a champ.”
“Are you jealous?” Ian sits back down, putting the controller down on the table
next to the plates. “That I won the game and you didn’t?”
“As if I give a fuck.”
“I think you do,” Ian says, poking his finger into Mickey’s ribs. “I think
you’re a little jealous.”
“Nope,” Mickey says, reaching for the plate and grabbing a pizza roll, putting
the whole thing in his mouth with one bite, immediately regretting it. “Fuck!
That’s hot.”
“Like you haven’t had a hot thing in your mouth before,” Ian says, and Mickey
chokes trying to swallow, coughing.
“Fuck, Gallagher!” Mickey coughs, banging his fists on his chest, finally able
to swallow. “You’re a dick.”
“Yeah? You love it.”
“I know,” Mickey says, “now eat the meal I made. It’s fucking great.”
Ian reaches over and grabs one from the plate, not breaking eye contact with
Mickey. He slowly puts it to his mouth and takes a bite, letting out the
loudest moan, licking his lips as he does it.
“Fuck, Mick,” he says, “you were right. I just came.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says, punching Ian in the arm. “Last time I make
food for you, asshole.”
“Don’t be like that,” Ian says, putting the rest of the pizza roll in his
mouth. “It’s awesome. Thank you.”
Mickey grunts as a response and grabs another, this time making sure to blow on
it before shoving it all in his mouth. They sit on the couch, lounging, and eat
all the pizza rolls; Ian shuts off the Xbox and tv, sitting back down and
resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder.
“I love you,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel himself start to smile, wrapping
his arm around Ian and pulling him in closer.
“I love you, too.”
They stay like that, in each other’s arms, not talking, just being. One of them
leaning in every once in a while to give the other a kiss, Mickey more than
Ian, but that’s okay, because he can; he can kiss Ian anytime he wants to and
not feel ashamed about it, not feel like he’s going to be bashed for liking a
guy. That’s not to say he’s comfortable enough to go run in the streets holding
hands and kissing, but he doesn't have this crippling anxiety that he did when
they first started off.
And fuck, everyone knows now, and no one has done anything, said anything to
him. Except for that one girl in class, but she was trying to make him see that
it’s no big deal, granted he didn’t listen, but now he can see that is really
isn’t. That who he chooses to fuck doesn’t define who he is or how he should
act.
It’s a feeling of ease he can’t quite describe, but he loves it. Loves Ian.
Eventually, Ian nudges him and he nods, “what?”
“School’s out now,” Ian says, sitting up and stretching his arms. “You wanna go
back to my place. That way Fiona will think we went.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Fiona’s sitting on the couch when they walk in, drinking a beer. Liam is in the
pack n play by the staircase, asleep. It doesn’t look like anyone else is home
since there isn’t a shit ton of loud noises coming from all ends of the house.
“How was school?” Fiona asks, muting the tv and turning around, taking a swig
of her beer.
“It was good,” Ian says, “lots of learning to be had.”
“That’s good,” she says, and something about the way her tone comes out, along
with her glare, makes Mickey think she knows they ditched. “So nothing
happened? Like, oh I don’t know, Karen Jackson.”
Fuck.
“Fiona,” Ian begins, but she puts her hand up.
“You know what, it’s better I don’t know,” she sighs, “just go to school, Ian.
You too Mickey.”
“I will,” Ian says, kicking Mickey’s shin.
“Me too,” Mickey chimes in.
Ian pushes Mickey and they rush out of the living room before Fiona changes her
mind and starts to lecture them. When they get into the kitchen Lip is sitting
at the table with a beer in his hand, just like Fiona.
This can’t be good.
“Hey,” Ian says, his voice rising in pitch. “What’s up, Lip?”
“I broke up with Karen,” Lip says, swirling the bottle in circles on the table.
“Oh.”
Mickey stays quiet because he isn’t sure what to say, if he should say
anything. He doesn’t know if Lip was in love with Karen, or if she really was
just there for a good fuck, but he definitely isn’t going to chime in and find
out. Breakups are never cut and dry, and if what Mandy did is the reason they
broke up, well then it definitely isn’t cut and dry.
“Mickey,” Lip says, and Mickey nods, trying not to show any emotion. “Dude, I’m
sorry Karen outed you. That was fucked up.”
“I...um, thanks?” Mickey says, confusion setting in.
“When we walked in that one day and you were,” Lip shudders, “you know? Well, I
told her to not tell anyone ‘cause it isn’t her fucking business. And what does
she do? Goes and tells the whole fucking school. Point being,” Lip says,
gulping down a shit ton of the beer. “Anyone who fucks with Ian is a piece of
shit in my book. And you seem good to him. So I wasn’t about to screw around
with some bitch who is gonna talk shit about my brother and his,” Lip’s
eyebrows furrow, “well, whatever you guys are.”
“Boyfriend,” Mickey says, clearing his throat, watching Ian’s eyes widen and
smile spread across his face.
“Yeah, well, boyfriend. She’s not worth any drama.”
“Well,” Mickey says, fumbling for the words to say, “thanks.”
“No problem,” Lip says, raising an eyebrow, “but remember what I said. Anyone
who fucks with Ian is a piece of shit. Got it?”
“Got it,” Mickey says, laughing, “trust me. I won’t fuck Ian over.”
“Good.”
“Well,” Ian says, grabbing Mickey by his arm, “this is cool and all, but we’re
gonna go upstairs now.” Ian pulls Mickey by his arm up the stairs and when
they’re towards the top he leans in and whispers, “you won’t fuck me?” A grin
wide across his face.
“Over,” Mickey corrects, grabbing Ian and slamming him against the wall. “I’ll
fuck you though,” he says, lips connecting with Ian’s, “anytime.”
“What about now?” Ian’s hands are on Mickey’s ass, pulling him hard against
him.
“Any,” Mickey says, grabbing Ian’s dick in his pants, “time.”
Next thing Mickey knows he has Ian pinned on the bed; his legs are spread open
and wrapped around Mickey’s waist, grinding his ass into him. Mickey yanks off
Ian’s shirt and plants his mouth on him, biting and sucking his chest; Ian
groans out and unbuttons Mickey’s jeans, reaching in and rubbing his hand over
Mickey’s hard on. Jerking forward into Ian’s fists, Mickey kisses up his neck
and their lips interlock, tongue working in Ian’s mouth.
“Ian! Mickey!” Fiona’s voice fills the room. “The kids are home! So if you guys
would mind not doing whatever it is you’re doing!”
“Fuck,” Mickey hisses, feeling Ian’s hand grip a little tighter around his
head, stroking down even slower. “Ian.”
“Come on,” Ian says, biting his lower lip, working his hand a little faster
now. “Come for me.”
“Ian.” Mickey’s mouth opens and he can feel himself moving his hips forward
into Ian, can feel his breathing hitch as Ian rubs down him, making it
impossible to stop. “Your brother and sister,” and his voice catches as Ian
moves his other into Mickey’s pants, fingers rubbing against his balls. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Ian’s hand moves further into Mickey’s pants until his finger is
running along Mickey’s rim, making him shake under Ian’s touch.
Ian moves his finger up and down, pushing against Mickey’s hole while his other
hand slides down his cock with ease. Mickey can feel the tension building, his
toes curling, and his balls tightening up as he comes all on Ian’s hand, in his
pants, but he doesn’t care.
“Gallagher,” he breathes out, pulling back and adjusting his pants, looking
down and seeing a wet spot right in his crotch area. “Fuck.”
“Don’t worry,” Ian says, grabbing tissues off the dresser next to his bed and
wiping his hand. “You can borrow some jeans.”
“Fiona’s gonna kick me out,” Mickey says, laughing. “I’m a bad influence. You
ditch school for me, have sex in the shower with me and waste the water bill,
and now you’re jerking me off while the rest of your family is downstairs.”
“Dude,” Ian deadpans, tossing the tissue in the corner of the room. “Trust me,
Fiona and Lip have fucked enough people in here while people are home. They
have no place to judge.”
“Well just know,” Mickey says, taking off his pants and opening up the middle
drawer, “that I still owe you a fuck.” He slips on a clean pair of jeans and
wiggles his eyebrows at Ian.
“Yeah you do.” Ian’s tongue flicks across his bottom lip and he adjusts his
dick in his jeans. “Let’s go act like I didn’t just make you come all over me.”
Mickey shakes his head, “you’re sick.”
“Only with you.”
When they’re downstairs they sit on the couch and watch tv with the kids; Ian
gives quick winks here and there to Mickey and he has to look away because
otherwise he’ll start smirking like a fool and the family will know somethings
up. Fiona’s in the kitchen and the smell of something good, probably chicken,
starts wafting into the living room. Mickey didn’t think he’d be hungry after
eating a bunch of pizza rolls earlier and yet, the smell is making his mouth
water.
They all sit around the table and eat together, blabbing away about anything
that happened in the day. Karen only being brought up once and Ian shutting the
conversation down before it can start, which Mickey appreciates.
“So are you guys together?” Carl asks, stabbing his fork into his food and
tearing the chicken apart before eating it.
Ian looks to Mickey who gives him a nod, letting him know it’s okay.
“Yeah,” Ian says, “we are.”
“Have you guys done it?” Mickey’s eyes widen and he’s happy he wasn’t taking a
bite as Carl said that because he would have choked. “Does it hurt?”
“Carl!” Fiona exclaims, scrunching up her face and shaking her head. “Jesus.”
“Well,” Carl says, shrugging, “I wanted to know. I mean a dick in the as-”
“That’s enough, Carl.”
The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, no more mentioning of gay sex, which is
an accomplishment because Mickey can see Carl wanting to ask something
everytime he looks over. The fact that he is genuinely just interested in that
subject baffles Mickey. If he ever asked something like that in his house he
would have been beaten, who know, maybe even killed.
The Gallaghers are good people. Accepting people.
After dinner they split off to do homework, watch tv, or even knock out early.
Fiona switches from night shifts to day shifts and whenever that happens Ian
says she knocks out at any chance she can.
Ian and Mickey go upstairs and lie in bed, both in boxers, wrapped in each
other’s arms; Mickey can feel Ian’s heartbeat steady against his chest.
“So,” Ian says, interlacing his fingers with Mickey’s, “school tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Mickey sighs, “great.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“I think I owe it to Fiona,” Mickey admits, closing his eyes and listening to
Ian’s breathing. “She’s letting me stay here and all.”
“Still,” Ian says, planting a quick kiss on Mickey’s lips, “you don’t have to.”
“I know.” Mickey returns the kiss.
“Besides,” Ian says, raising his head and resting it on his hand, facing
Mickey. “You can always go to the spot if anything happens.”
“The spot,” Mickey says, nodding, “our spot.”
“Exactly,” Ian says, lying back down. “No matter what happens, we’ll always
have our spot.”
Chapter End Notes
     Okay! So listen, when I first started this fic I didn't know where I
     was going with it, how long it would be or anything, I just knew I
     wanted it to end with them together talking about their spot. So
     hopefully everything that led up to this ending was okay and that the
     ending was okay and I just always get weirded out with my endings
     because I never know if they work! So I really hope it did!! Thank
     you to everyone who read this and left comments! You guys made me
     want to write a new chapter every week :) my tumblr is still
     mickeymilkovandamn if anyone wants to talk to me about the fic or
     anything! :)
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