Chapter Text
Mickey was lying on his front. He didn’t know for how long he’d been trying to fall asleep, but that wasn’t working. The heat of end of May mixed with Ian’s furnace next to him prevented him from finding some sleep – despite the exhaustion.
Despite having taken a shower only hours before, he could feel himself sweaty and gross. His skin stuck to the sheets and he assumed a small pool of sweat had already gathered on the small of his back. He sighed heavily and turned his head towards Ian.
“Hey,” he said softly, nudging at his elbow. He didn’t want to be that much of an ass and wake Ian up if his boyfriend had managed to fall asleep.
“Hm,” he only replied – but that was enough to tell Mickey his boyfriend was actually still awake.
“Go open the window,” he demanded still as lowly.
“You go open the window. You’re nearest to it,” Ian retorted.
“It’s your apartment.”
“Our,” Ian corrected him.
“My name isn’t on the lease yet,” he smartly shot back – just because he could. He knew, though, that he was living here, for real. It was his nightstand next to him. There was his table in the living room and other different items scattered all over the apartment showed that it wasn’t Ian’s anymore but theirs.
“But you live here.” Ian had opened his eyes, now. Mickey could barely see the glint in them, but he heard the question behind it all. Are you regretting this?
“Please?” He said softly. He pouted a little, just for the show. He was honestly too tired – or too lazy – to get up right now to open a window, but still, he’d kill for some fresher air.
He saw the shift in Ian’s eyes, the one making him understand that he’d won anyways. “You’re an ass, you know that?”
“But you love me.”
“I do,” he sighed and sat up. Mickey could see that Ian’s body as well was shiny with sweat. They were only wearing boxers to bed – when they could be bothered to actually put some on.
“Thanks,” Mickey mumbled when he heard Ian standing up. He closed his eyes again, trying to find a comfortable position – readying himself to sleep, at last. His ears pricked up, catching every little noises Ian made. How he smartly made his way around the bed without hitting his foot against some furniture. How he opened the window wide. How he shifted the curtains to fall in front of the now open space – to give them a little bit more privacy.
The fresh air hit his bare back blissfully, making the hairs rise. It was stopped short, though, when he heard Ian’s footsteps coming to a halt next to him and then, when his boyfriend dropped his body on top of him.
“Ian,” he complained. Trying to make him fall on the bed next to him. Ian did move, but only to settle himself on top of him properly.
“That’s what you get,” he mumbled before placing his cheek against the back of Mickey’s neck.
“It’s too hot,” Mickey grumbled, squirming a little to make Ian shift away from him – unsuccessfully.
“You’re too hot,” Ian corrected him.
“Thanks to who, hm?”
“Me, maybe?”
“Hm?” Mickey turned his head to try facing Ian – barely seeing him out of the corner of his eye. Ian took the opportunity of an offered cheek to kiss it.
“Our apartment,” Ian whispered, keeping on kissing his cheek.
“Has been for awhile now,” Mickey retorted, getting used to the weight on his back.
“Can’t wrap my head around it,” Ian admitted lowly. Mickey felt fingertips brushing along his sides softly. “You’re here,” Ian murmured ever so lowly. “You’re with me. You’re not leaving. It’s just us.”
“Not planning on leaving,” Mickey agreed.
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t, hm?”
“I think I’m too much in love with you for that.”
“You’re an idiot,” Mickey said with no venom. He didn’t understand sometimes how Ian could love him that much, and want him around forever with every shit he’d gone through because of him. He wanted that – being with Ian with no expiration date labelled on their relationship.
“An idiot you live with,” Ian said in response.
“Yes.”
They grew silent afterwards, and Mickey could feel the sweat between their bodies. Opening the window had been, in fact, only useful to Ian – he couldn’t feel its benefits when his furnace of a boyfriend decided he was more comfortable than the mattress. Ian kept on stroking his sides slowly, probably absentmindedly.
Mickey had to admit that despite being hotter than earlier, it was oddly comfortable. Having Ian anchoring him to bed, and having their sweat mixing – hell, it felt gross but he felt safe. He remembered those nights without Ian, how lonely and vulnerable he’d felt. Well, those nights alone had meant them being not-together or on the verge to be. He breathed in deeply, brushing the thought off. He was in bed with Ian. He lived with Ian in his apartment. No, scratch that. Their apartment. It was their home. Officially or not, Ian’s apartment had always felt more like a home than Mickey’s own had ever been. Mickey thought of his apartment as an in-between, temporary place between two lives: the one with Mandy, the easy one – romantically speaking – the suffering through life because he had to and this one, the love affair, the feeling of being alive, being loved, fulfilled, complete – loving his work, loving his home, loving his boyfriend, hell, loving his life. Period. The in-between had been messy, but it was worth it in the end.
“Stop thinking so loudly,” Ian muttered in his ear.
“I’m not.”
“Sure, you are.” Ian kissed his cheek again, before going down his neck. He nuzzled at the back of his neck before partly slightly from the skin. “It’s not like I know you by heart by now.”
“What was I thinking about then?” Mickey asked him, more like dared him. He tried to shift on his side as much as he actually could without dislodging Ian.
Ian settled his forearm against the mattress to hold himself up. “Us.”
“Easy. I’m thinking about us like 80% of the time.”
“Only 80?” Ian tilted his head to the side.
“Yes. Then add 10 more percent of only thinking about you.”
“Damn, you’re such a sap,” Ian chuckled quietly before putting his lips to Mickey’s.
“Part of my charm,” he retorted, trying to free one of his hand to cup Ian’s jaw, but not managing to.
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Ian told him.
“You’re hurting my feelings a bit there,” he joked. He pecked Ian’s lips gently once more as Ian stroked his hair softly.
“I gotta make up for it, then,” Ian whispered in his mouth. Mickey assumed he knew where this was heading, but even if it weren’t, he was content with having Ian kissing him like he was currently doing. His boyfriend licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue playfully before sealing their lips properly. As gross as it sounded, Mickey loved Ian’s tongue. He loved it everywhere on – in – him. He loved how sensual Ian managed to be while kissing him – how it wasn’t only kissing. It was more than just that. It was Ian stroking his hair. It was Ian’s lingering touches on him. It was Ian kissing him exactly how he liked it. It was Ian, simply being Ian, and loving him through kisses. It was Ian’s tongue playing with his and making him wonder how Ian could make kissing feel so good. It was ‘I love you’s popping in Mickey’s head whenever Ian did that thing of sucking lightly at his bottom lip, biting it and then plunging his tongue back in his mouth as if these few seconds without it touching Mickey’s were far too long.
Another I love you popped up in Mickey’s mind then, and he just wished he could touch Ian – feel him the same way Ian could do to him. Ian’s fingers were caressing his left side while his other hand rested in his hair.
“Ian,” he breathed in a quiet moan. His boyfriend pecked his lips before opening his darkened eyes. Their noses were touching with the lack of distance separating them. Ian’s whole face was shiny with a thin film of sweat, but his eyes glowed brighter – his lips shone brighter. His faint freckles appeared like a constellation of stars in a cloudless summer night – everywhere and nowhere all at once. Ian licked his swollen lips tentatively and Mickey found it too damn adorable when he did that – as if he was asking for some sort of permission.
Ian leaned in to put his mouth on his. It was the only link between them as Ian started to hover over him. He put his weight on his left forearm and with his right hand, gripped gently at Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey didn’t need to be told, he only followed the movement to shift on his back.
Once his back was one with the sheet underneath him, Ian’s hands framed his face and his body slowly fitted back on top of him. Mickey, at last, was able to lace his arms around him – bringing him even closer if possible. He ran his hands across Ian’s sweaty back, feelings the muscles tensing underneath the skin. Ian going back to his exercising routine was definitely showing. He was beginning to get more built, and Mickey found back the man who’d been manhandling him over a pool table months ago.
Mickey spread his legs slightly, making his boyfriend slide between them. He heard Ian’s moan as pressure was put against both of their groins. Mickey loosely wrapped his legs around Ian’s thighs as well. Ian gasped shortly, separating their lips but still breathing the same air.
Mickey watched him in bliss as he settled a hand on the small of the redhead’s back – letting the other one roam freely against the skin. Mickey was engrossed by the way Ian’s face was showing pleasure. His eyes were shut, his eyebrows barely making a frown, his lips parted as little noises escaped them.
Mickey rolled his hips against Ian’s, deepening the redhead’s frown as he moaned louder.
“Jesus, Mick,” Ian murmured then. He let his head drop in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. Mickey resumed grinding against him, rolling his hips against his skillfully. He bathed in the sharp intakes and soft moans his boyfriend let out against his skin. Ian’s body grew even hotter, making Mickey vaguely wonder how the redhead could bear such heat. But, at the same time, Mickey was the one pressed against damp sheets by his burning hot boyfriend – he lived.
Mickey felt their boxers getting wetter, the head of Ian’s penis trying to escape the constricted space of the black fabric. Between sweat and precome, their underwear were probably a mess. He didn’t even care the slightest.
He turned his head to kiss Ian, wherever he could. He hit the cheek, though, and kept on peppering it with soft kisses. He could feel Ian’s hot breath against his neck, giving him the chills with how much his boyfriend turned him on. Ian left an open mouth kiss against his neck, then another. He made his way up to catch Mickey’s lips in a deep sigh.
Mickey breathed sharply through his nose as Ian’s body shifted on top of him. Ian’s hands went back to caressing his sides, sending shivers through his body. He felt the hairs rising at Ian’s electric touches. He struggled to breathe through his nose, but he wouldn’t let go of Ian’s mouth. He loved it too much.
Ian’s hands went southern, and his thumbs hooked with the elastic band of Mickey’s boxers. He didn’t push them down at first. He kept on kissing Mickey while his fingers rested there. After another I love you popped up in Mickey’s mind, Ian broke away from the kiss. He bit down his own bottom lip as his eyes racked over Mickey’s face. Lust.
He remained there, breathing deeply with his eyes on his boyfriend. Their groins were still pressed together, and Mickey assumed Ian’s imagination was playing delightful images – he felt a twitch against his own penis. After a short while, Ian pushed himself away from Mickey and the older man wouldn’t even try denying the whine leaving his mouth. Ian sat up on his calves and pushed Mickey’s underwear down. Once off, he dropped them by the bed and went back to lie on top of Mickey.
Mickey let out of a small whimper – mirroring Ian’s one – as their hard-ons touched with one less layer separating them.
“Off, off,” he told Ian, trying to take his boxers off – but actually caressing his buttocks.
“Just a second,” the redhead murmured in his ear before placing his head on the pillow next to Mickey’s. He then took off the offensive fabric of his underwear – kicking them away. “Better?” he dared asking him as their sensitive skin touched at last.
“So much,” Mickey agreed. “Come here,” he murmured, stroking Ian’s face. With the side of their faces laid on the pillow, Mickey kissed his lips almost shyly – lovingly. He brushed Ian’s curls away from his forehead. He loved how the redhead was letting his hair grow, but what he loved most was when the curls were free and wild. No one knew Ian like this. Well, maybe his family had seen him with longer hair and yet to be straightened, but the redhead never went out without straightening it. Mickey had the privileged pleasure to run his fingers through the curls whenever he wished.
Ian’s body slid against Mickey’s – the sweat not helping. Mickey made him shift so that they were both on their sides – lips still locked. He threw his right leg over Ian’s hip – searching for some contact, and finding it.
His own dick was pressed against Ian’s lower abdomen, while Ian’s had managed to spring free and was currently resting against Mickey’s ass cheeks. Mickey brought one of his hand down and started caressing gently Ian’s shaft. It remained against his ass, but Mickey was pressing it even more against him with his strokes.
“God, Mickey,” Ian breathed sharply. The older man could feel Ian rocking his hips slowly against him. “God, I love you.”
“Yeah,” Mickey managed to let out. Little did he know, Ian snuck his hand between their chests and started jerking his erection as well. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, turning his face towards the pillow. Ian took this occasion to go back to mouthing at the exposed neck. His boyfriend wasn’t teasing him – he was giving him everything.
He licked and sucked at his neck just the way he liked it. He pumped his shaft at a slow, but steady, pace. He felt against his skin murmurs leaving Ian’s throat, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.
After another moment of pure bliss, Mickey shifted and almost lied on top of Ian to reach for the nightstand. Ian let out a complaint as he had to detach his mouth from Mickey. But once the older man had the first tube of lubricant he’d found in hand, he brought them back to their previous position.
Ian chuckled lightly before kissing him gently.
“Gimme that,” he said, taking the lubricant from Mickey’s palm. Mickey observed Ian’s face as he squirted some on his fingers – well, he assumed so. His boyfriend had both hands behind his back. Ian’s eyes then settled on Mickey, and he gave him a genuine smile. He leaned in to taste his mouth shortly.
Mickey felt the tip of a finger running slowly down his spine – sending shivers through his body again. It went to the damp dip of his small back before resting against one of his ass cheek.
“Don’t waste it,” Mickey muttered, feeling lubricant on his skin.
“Never do with you,” Ian replied before resuming going south. He dipped it lower, barely teasing his entrance before pushing it in. He secured Mickey against him with his other hand pressed on his higher back.
“You know I can take more,” Mickey argued, feeling the single finger barely stretching him.
“I know,” Ian said. He pulled it out and teased quickly Mickey’s hole with his middle finger before thrusting it in.
“Fuck, Ian,” he complained, having once more a single finger within him when he couldn’t wait to have Ian fully inside him.
“I know,” Ian repeated, before pushing his index back into him to join his middle finger.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for sex,” Ian retorted, his face serious. Mickey grinned at him with hooded eyes before capturing his lips. As Mickey pushed his tongue in, Ian fingered him deeper – wider. Ever so slowly he stretched his entrance with his fingers. Mickey quietly moaned in his mouth whenever Ian scissored his fingers or crooked them.
Their bodies were pressed together, sealed with sweat. Mickey’s hand made its way to Ian’s back again to feel the muscles, feel the hardness of his damp body. Without particularly noticing, they shifted their stance and Ian found himself mounted over by Mickey. With legs on each sides of his body, Ian pushed another finger in.
Mickey moaned at the feeling and then groaned when the fresh breeze hit his sweaty back. He rocked against Ian’s fingers a moment – enjoying being there, the way his insides felt when Ian touched him as if he was reaching perfection.
Mickey went for the lubricant, but Ian took upon himself to take care of that – again. He slapped Mickey hand away with his single free hand, but Mickey did help him a bit. He opened the tube and put some in Ian’s palm before lacing their fingers.
“Who’s wasting lube now?” Ian spoke in his mouth.
“Not wasting it,” Mickey replied and brought both of their oiled up hands to Ian’s erection. “Touch yourself,” he murmured at he started touching him as well.
They both jerked Ian off as the redhead kept on preparing Mickey – as if he weren’t ready yet.
“Come on,” Ian said at last. Mickey didn’t understand right away why he had to ‘come on’ but Ian rolled them over and he understood. The sheets where he now lied were dry and cool against the furnace his body was. Ian settled properly between his legs before placing the tip of his penis to Mickey’s entrance. He slowly pushed in and Mickey didn’t hold back his moan. There were no point in doing so. He wanted, no, needed, Ian to know how good he felt thanks to him. He needed to show him how heavenly perfect he was.
Once he’d bottomed out, he didn’t wait – didn’t need to. He started thrusting inside him slowly, but deeply. They had sex like that on rare occasions. Sex was always making love to them, but not on the generic sense of the term. This, tonight, was making love.
Mickey locked his ankles behind Ian’s back and shallowly rolled his hips in sync with Ian. The redhead found his prostate quite easily – he had experience – and brushed against it every so often. The electricity within Mickey’s body never soothed. Especially not when Ian’s caressed his body the way he did. His fingers were soft, careful, against his skin. There would be no other way to express love except for him to voice it.
Mickey threw his head back as a deeper jab inside his, perfectly resting against his sweet spot and continuously teasing it. His eyes were closed in pleasure. His senses were hyper aware of what was happening. The touches lingering on his body intensified and his own hands didn’t know where to settle – where to touch. The room was filled with soft sounds of flesh hitting flesh. He could faintly hear the noise of the bed creaking over the buzzing in his ears. Ian let out low moans and whimpers against him and Mickey felt sounds leaving his throat as well. The smell of sex filled the air, but there was a faint scent of watermelon in the room as well. It was mixed with Ian’s scent – the cigarette he’d smoked earlier and his lemon shampoo.
Ian licked at the column of his neck up to his chin before biting it teasingly. Mickey let out a low chuckle and bowed his head once more to kiss this mouth. Ian laughed in it, and went deeper and deeper inside him.
“God, I love you,” Ian murmured again. “So so much.” Mickey felt Ian’s hips stuttering, just like he heard the tell-tale whimpers. He rocked even more against Ian, chasing his boyfriend’s orgasm for it to be as delightful as possible. “You’re perfect, Mickey,” he said, but his voice broke before the end of his sentence. In a last will to please his boyfriend, Mickey’s hands made their way to Ian’s ass and caressed his buttocks before squeezing at them lightly. It did it, because only seconds after he felt Ian filling him with semen.
Mickey clenched around him to milk him, to pleasure him. His own climax was near, but he was more focused on Ian rather than himself.
Ian was having none of it, though. He placed one of his forearm near Mickey’s face to hold himself up and reached behind himself to place one hand on top of Mickey’s – still resting against his ass. He then resumed thrusting inside him before softening.
Mickey didn’t last much longer as Ian hit his prostate over and over again. “Here,” he gasped with meaning to, making Ian laugh softly.
“I know,” he said. He kissed him, tightened his fingers around Mickey’s hand, pushed in deeper and Mickey erupted on both of their chests.
“Here you are,” Ian murmured. He brought their join hands to touch Mickey’s erection, pumping it ‘til the last drop of semen covered them. Mickey sighed contently and lied properly against the mattress. His eyes never left Ian’s. The redhead licked his fingers clean before leaning in for Mickey’s lips.
They stayed this way for awhile before Ian pulled out. Mickey winced without meaning too. Ian reached for a clean towel in his nightstand drawer and made a quick job of cleaning their chests. He then brought the cloth between Mickey’s legs to collect his own semen.
“You know how beautiful you are?” Ian said softly. Mickey was bathing in the afterglow, sated.
“Not as much as you,” he retorted weakly. Ian grinned and threw the used towel somewhere in the room before lying back in-between Mickey’s legs.
“You’re such a sap, Mick. It’s impressive.”
“Yeah, I’m often told,” he retorted. Ian lied his head on his chest, placing his hand over his ribs. Mickey was still hot, and now more sweaty and sticky than earlier but he still fell asleep quite quickly thanks to Ian.
“You want some sugar?”
“Sure.”
“But who the hell drinks actual hot coffee in the middle of July?” Mickey grumbled, stirring his own mug of coffee – into which he’d dumped as much ice as possible.
“Gallaghers, apparently,” Carl retorted.
“Damn, you’re as funny as your brother.”
“Hey, I’m fun,” Ian intervened, reaching the dinner table and sitting across from Carl.
“No,” Mickey frowned at him. “You’re not.” His boyfriend glanced at Carl, who nodded in confirmation.
“Alright, fuck you two. You live here,” he pointed at Mickey saying this. “And you’re my brother, so you both have to suffer from my apparently not-fun humor.”
“What have you done to him?” Carl whispered to Mickey. His boyfriend simply shrugged. “Did you make him sex-depraved?”
“Guys, I’m right here,” Ian waved his hand around to make them look at him. Having Mickey and Carl to meet was the worst idea he’d ever had. Absolute worst. Not only did Mickey get along pretty well with Debbie already, he had to be friend with his little brother as well. And even Shawn, too. He didn’t take Mickey for the friendly type, but apparently he wasn’t the only one finding this something in him. He did prefer Mickey to be accepted by his family and friends rather than the other way around, but still, sometimes he felt like he was the outsider. He always felt this way whenever he was witnessing it all.
Whenever Debbie came by and had boys trouble, she seemed to trust more Mickey than Ian on the matter – how ironic was that. At first, Ian had been weirded out by this, but after some time he got used to it. He simply loved knowing his little sister accepted Mickey this way. Ian thought they even had inside jokes, to which he couldn’t take part, but he frankly never minded when at the end of the day, his boyfriend was happy and Debbie forgot all the troubles she shouldn’t have to go through.
Same went for Shawn. His best friend seemed to have some privileged discussions with his boyfriend but the only time Ian tried to take part in their chatting and discovered they were, in fact, arguing over sex toys, he quickly went back to work and ignored what he’d heard. He was actually glad Shawn had found someone else to talk about that kind of things. It wasn’t awkward anymore for them to talk about sex, but there was still this limit Ian didn’t want to cross when it came to Shawn. He didn’t want Mickey to get jealous over this – when there were no reasons to, frankly.
Still, Carl and Mickey, bad idea. The actual worse. Because not only did they get along, they actually teamed up against Ian most of the time. They shared moments into which Ian was excluded – for example, changing subjects when he came around. They also trapped him into watching horror movies more often than not. One time, Carl had even slept on their couch. Ian had been buzzing with happiness that day. He had his little brother back, as if nothing had changed. Still, when he’d been woken up with pillows hitting his face and an unfair two against one fight, he had regretted it slightly. Just a bit. Well, at the moment anyways.
At the end of it all, he didn’t care about being left aside – because that wasn’t really what it was, was it? It was just his made-up family enjoying moments together. It was everything he had wished for. They were all here for him, and he was there for them as well. They could count on each other.
They had all managed to make Carl enroll in some community college classes from the next school year. Well, Mickey and Carl had brought up the idea of the younger man working with cars, Debbie had provided brochures and Ian had helped with the paperwork. He’d felt awesome that week when everything had been perfect – having his little siblings with him and his boyfriend as well. Well, the only dark cloud that had hovered over this particular week had been having to buy another bed base – too many lathes had broken in one go.
It had been priceless, though, really. Ian still had that image – and the sounds too – of Mickey screaming for his life as if he was being murdered. He had just tried to ride Ian too hard into the mattress. It had been simple as that.
“You sure you’re here?” Ian heard at the same time someone pinched his thigh.
“Hey, stop that,” he slapped Mickey’s hand away, and went to soothe his skin.
“Told you it’d work,” Carl commented.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“No, you won’t,” Ian snarled, glaring at his boyfriend as menacingly as possible. He didn’t need Mickey to pinch him, now. “Anyways. Why aren’t we at Debbie’s diner again?”
“Because Fiona’s taking some shifts there as well,” Mickey reminded him.
“How the fuck does he remember that and you don’t?” Carl asked him, his eyebrows going up on his forehead – but it wasn’t as impressive as when Mickey did it. Well, he couldn’t find it either hot or adorable on his little brother.
“Selective memory,” Mickey provided. “Everything about her or that shithead brother of yours is erased from his mind pretty quickly.” That was simple to put it out like this, Ian thought. Every time he heard unwanted news about them, he exercised twice as much as his usual routine. And coming home, let’s say their supplies of lubricant went down pretty quickly. He simply blacked out and pushed the memories away. He didn’t want to deal with them, and they apparently didn’t care. Win – win situation.
“Oh, so you also forgot Lip’s here for few weeks, right?”
“No, I didn’t forget that,” Ian winced. He wished he had, though. He didn’t want to stumble upon him by coincidence while making groceries, or going out with Mickey, or having a drink with current or former coworkers. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise when it would come to this. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go through this. Especially now that Lip apparently swung both way, even Boys’ Town wouldn’t be a safe haven away from him.
“Yeah, lucky you. You don’t have to suffer from hearing his hook-ups every night or so,” Carl spat back, tilting his head – waiting for Ian to shoot something back.
“Hook-ups?” Mickey repeated. “Doesn’t he have a boyfriend or something?”
“Like it would stop him,” Ian said.
“Oh, you don’t know?” Carl actually grinned.
“Don’t know what?”
“He’s got dumped!” Carl cheered and raised his mug before realizing it was only coffee in it. He coughed awkwardly afterwards, embarrassed.
“Got caught balls deep into someone else, I suppose,” Ian grumbled.
“Not even,” Carl stressed both words. “Sully dumped him because he felt like their relationship wasn’t taking a good direction or whatever.”
“That’s a shitty excuse,” Mickey pointed out, taking a sip of his iced coffee.
“It is! But like, I think he’s heartbroken or some shit,” Carl shrugged
“Good for him,” Ian replied before drinking some of his coffee. “He’s been shitty to so many people, he deserves that.”
“Hey,” Mickey let out, putting his hand on his forearm. Ian smiled lightly at him and placed his other hand on top of his.
“He does,” Carl confirmed. “You definitely weren’t there for the many pregnancy scare and all the shit he put some girls through.”
“I’ve heard, yeah.”
“Whatever. There’s this guy at the house more often than not and he stinks like trouble.”
“Trouble? Like, jail trouble or?”
“Nah, it’s more like,” Carl paused. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, trying to find the good formulation, but he quickly gave up. “Like, he’s gonna spring feelings on him, and then go fuck up, you know?”
“I know the type, yeah,” Ian said bitterly, his thoughts already picturing a certain younger man. Ian heard a phone vibrating somewhere in the kitchen but neither Mickey nor him got up to retrieve it.
“Plus, he’s like Debbie’s age, it’s weird,” Carl added. At that moment, Mickey and Ian shared a look. A guy, stinking like trouble, Debbie’s age?
“What’s his name?” Ian inquired for.
Carl frowned at their reactions, “I’ve never quite caught that. Like, Ja-something. Like, Jake or something.”
They weren’t reassured, though. “What does he look like?”
“Guys, what’s going on?”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t know, he’s basic as fuck. Like, brown hair, brown eyes, never knowing when to shave?”
“That can be him,” Mickey muttered.
“That could, yeah,” Ian agreed. He stood up and made a bee line to the kitchen to retrieve Mickey’s phone.
“Can be who?” Carl asked. “Ian?!”
Ian grabbed Mickey’s phone from where his boyfriend had left it near the sink. It had been his phone vibrating. Ian didn’t want to read his texts so he brought the device back to the dinner table.
“Here,” he threw it to Mickey.
“You could’ve looked through,” his boyfriend said, unlocking the phone.
“You got a text,” Ian shrugged.
“And? I don’t care if you read my texts,” Mickey told him, but frowned at the screen. “The hell,” he muttered, but quickly put a on a blank face.
“Guys, what’s up?” Carl asked.
“Lip could be screwing Mickey’s best friend.”
“But, if he’s your best friend, wouldn’t you know?” Carl asked as Mickey looked through his phone. His boyfriend finally looked up from the screen.
“He’s not – really. We’re not that close anymore,” he told him awkwardly. He then threw the device towards Carl. Ian glanced at the phone quickly and caught the sight of a picture starring Jay and Mickey. His boyfriend was sticking his tongue at the camera while Jay had two fingers held behind Mickey’s head. Ian hated the fact that they actually looked like a couple before reminding himself that they, too, had a ton of pictures like this – their own phone backgrounds were the proof of it. “It’s him?”
“No, not him. But he kind of looks like a guy at college with Debs. Vaguely.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Ian couldn’t help the disgust in his voice. Carl apparently scrolled through the pictures.
“Well, no,” he repeated afterwards. “No him, not Debbie’s college guy.”
“Cool then. Good.”
“Jesus,” Mickey muttered. “Imagine your asshole of a brother and him together.”
“I prefer not to,” Ian shivered, his eyes widening.
***
“You can lash out, if you want,” Mickey murmured. He felt the bed dipping closer to him and barely glanced to the side to witness his boyfriend staring at him.
“Don’t need to,” he replied, resuming staring at the ceiling and the shadow created by the light of streetlamps lighting their bedroom.
“You’re sure about that?” Mickey insisted, placing his hand delicately on his bare chest. “We had to deal with these two, today, and you haven’t even reacted.”
“I don’t want them to take over my life anymore.”
“They’re not.” He heard the actual frown in Mickey’s voice.
“They are,” he sighed. “Well, were.” He turned to lie on his side as well – facing Mickey. “I’m doing great, Mick. I’ve got my happy life back, with you adding to it. It’s not relevant anymore to have these morons on my mind. Lip can go fuck himself, literally. If he wants to come around, I’ll let him, but I decided it’ll stop eating me this way. Same goes for Fiona. And Jay.” He surprised himself by actually pronouncing his name. He’d avoided saying it all this time – he still remembered Mickey’s voice moaning it all these months ago. But that was it, it’d been months ago.
“Jay?”
“I don’t care anymore. He’s not gonna rain on my, our, parade. I know you wouldn’t even let him, so that’s okay.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Mickey admitted, his fingers going to caress Ian’s neck.
“Just say you’ll be there with me,” Ian muttered. “And mean it.”
A smile spread on Mickey’s face, quickly turning into a bright grin. “I’ll stay here with you, Ian. I’m not going anywhere, and I sure as fuck will not try to find someone else. I thought you knew that by now.”
“I do. But it’s always better to hear you say it.”
“Oh, is it, now? You’re an insecure little shit, you know that?”
“Yeah, someone tells me that quite often,” Ian sighed exaggeratedly, making Mickey chuckle. He didn’t say anything else then, but Ian felt Mickey’s eyes boring into him. No words were needed there. Mickey didn’t have to tell him he loved him, that he cared about him and all that meaningful sappy crap that came with it. Words wouldn’t be enough anyways. So he simply looked at Mickey, looked at the way his face was open and soft – everything it never was with other people around.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” Mickey murmured after awhile.
“You don’t have to,” he dismissed him.
“Oh, yes, I do,” his boyfriend insisted nonetheless. “You’ve overcome so many things, and so many fears and you’re still here.”
“Well, I got a pretty reason to stay.”
“Let me guess, round ass and pretty good gag reflex?”
“Hm, I was about to say a loving housewife,” Ian joked back.
“You’re an asshole,” Mickey laughed anyways before shifting into Ian’s arms.
“Cook me breakfast tomorrow?” Ian dared to ask.
“I’ll be your breakfast tomorrow,” Mickey retorted.
“Oh, will you?”
“If you let me sleep enough, yes.”
“Damn, bossy.” Mickey hummed a response and got comfortable in their embrace. “Just one more question.”
“Shoot,” he mumbled.
“Who was it on the phone earlier? When Carl was here.”
“Oh, just Shawn.”
“Why did he want?” Ian didn’t remember the time when his best friend didn’t dare texting his boyfriend like this. He didn’t quite remember how Shawn shifted from being his best friend to being a sort of friendship third wheel to them.
“Something you don’t wanna know.”
“Except now I do want to know even more.”
“It involves dicks in butts, Ian,” Mickey told him.
“Oh. Yeah. I don’t want to know then,” he agreed, but after awhile, his curiosity got him nonetheless. “Whose dick and whose butt?”
Mickey sighed deeply and made them shift for him to hover over Ian. “His butt. And some dick. Alright? You don’t want to know, remember?” Mickey reminded him.
“Okay, okay,” Ian relented, placing his hands on Mickey’s hips. “Can it be my dick in your butt, now? Or the other way around, if you prefer.”
“Give it a couple of hours and we’ll see,” his boyfriend told him before lying down properly.
“This is becoming a thing, isn’t it?” Mickey mumbled, sinking even deeper into the bathtub – closer to Ian.
“What is?” Ian breathed. Just by the sound of his voice, Mickey knew that Ian had his head tilted against the tiles and his eyes closed.
“Us, taking a bath together,” he provided.
“I don’t mind it.”
“Neither do I,” Mickey told him, snuggling even closer to him.
His whole body was hurting. After few months of unsuccessful convincing coming from Ian, Mickey had finally come along for Ian’s run. During the summer, he’d had the excuse of the weather – way too hot for him. But now, end of September, he couldn’t argue more. Ian had slowed down his pace and stayed with Mickey all through their run. Mickey hadn’t hated it as much as he’d thought he would. Still, two days later, his legs felt like jelly even more. Adding to this, the restocking for Halloween and early Thanksgiving at work was killing his back.
“You had something with this intimacy thing of yours,” Mickey mumbled.
“What?” Ian breathed, slightly shifting to talk in his ear.
“This feels good. Us and water. Nothing else.”
“Yeah.”
“And with no sexual tension or whatever. Just relaxing.”
“I agree,” Ian said in his ear. “Though, it’s pretty ironic considering what we were doing exactly a year ago.”
“You remember?” The date wasn’t marked on his calendar or whichever thing Mickey could have done to remember this day. Exactly one year ago, Mickey had gone to his first actual date. He remembered each and every details of it – how awkward and, at the same time, so easy it’d been. He thought back of how good it’d felt to be with Ian, to share moments. The idea of being manhandled over a pool table was still stuck in his brain – but that wasn’t the main event his brain kept living and vivid.
“Oh, you do too?” Ian tilted his head before kissing his cheek wetly. Mickey nodded mindlessly.
“How could I forget the day I voluntarily shared my food, goddamn chocolate cake, with a guy. At a restaurant. On a date.”
“I thought you actually wanted to share,” Ian retorted.
“And you know me now.”
“Damn, you really got me there,” he chuckled lightly. “Personally, I keep in mind the fact that I had a date with this hot guy from my building. The one that I’d thought was breaking into my place, but ended up checking me out and on all fours in my bed. The very same guy who brought me to an empty bar and was, in fact, so sweet and adorable with me,” he kept on, kissing Mickey’s jaw again, then down his neck. “Or maybe I actually keep in mind the guy I nearly had sex with on a pool table.”
Mickey sighed deeply, enjoying the damp kisses peppered on his skin. “I knew you wanted me only for my ass,” he said seriously – he knew Ian knew he was actually joking.
“Yeah, that ass,” Ian played along, caressing Mickey’s body. The dark haired man chuckled at that and made a move to turn around but winced in pain.
“Still hurting?” Ian murmured. Mickey hummed his response and closed his eyes. He rested his head against Ian’s upper chest again.
“Want me to massage you?” Ian offered, running his fingers across Mickey’s waist.
“Later,” Mickey told him. “I’m comfy here.”
“I bet you are,” Ian murmured, spreading his legs wider and eventually resting one of them out of the water – hanging from the bathtub’s edge.
They remained in the water for awhile. Ian kept on stroking Mickey’s skin lightly, probably absentmindedly. If someone had told Mickey the year before that he would actually date the cute hot redhead from his building, he would’ve laughed at their face. Not because he hadn’t seen himself in a relationship. No. He simply hadn’t thought someone would like to stay with him and love him the way Ian did. They’d been together for nearly a year now, if they didn’t count those dark times. Nearly a year of Ian in his life, feeling safe and worth it. Mickey hadn’t joked when he’d said they would do Christmas gifts the next year or when he told Mandy that Ian would be his plus-one for her wedding next summer. As sappy as it sounded to his own ears, he didn’t imagine anything without Ian being part of it.
He idly wondered why Ian never asked some questions he knew was on his mind. Mickey had noticed the way his boyfriend loved to kiss the scars on his body or caress them softly. Yet, Ian didn’t bring up the subject – as if he knew it was something Mickey didn’t like to talk about. But now, nearly a year after and nearly twenty years after his father’s death, it was maybe about time for him to talk about them. It wasn’t hard for him to tell their stories. It used to break his own heart, to remind himself of how weak he’d been – even though Mandy always reminded him that he’d been too young anyways. But now, he simply didn’t want to be pitied for something of his past – something having no impact on his present.
“Fork,” he simply said when Ian racked his fingers against the scar on his rib. His boyfriend seemed to particularly like that one.
“What?”
“I was maybe six or seven. Mandy and I were arguing over the last chicken nugget, I think. I was hunched over the table to get it, but Dad didn’t see it that way. He went fork first to push me away, screaming about whiny kids. The fork went through my t-shirt and scratch the skin deeply,” he explained. It seemed silly, looking back. Maybe it’d been worse, or better. But that was the only thing he remembered about it.
“That’s fucked up,” Ian breathed, flattening his hand against his ribs protectively.
“I know.”
Ian didn’t talk for a moment, tracing the scar over and over again.
“This one?” He hesitantly asked, caressing the one on his left shoulder.
“Liquor bottle.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“That one?” Ian wondered out loud, aiming for the one above his nipple.
“I don’t really remember. I think that one is Mandy, though,” he told him. Not all his scars were because of Terry, but apparently, to Ian’s eyes, they were all from his father. Some of them were because he’d been a reckless kid, others weren’t as old – coming from growing up with his cousins and his sister. Some, yes, were from Terry’s abusive behavior, thinking of his son as a living punching bag. Still, Mickey preferred being scarred physically rather than the wounds Mandy had to live with in her own mind.
He had never explicitly told Ian about Mandy, because it was frankly not his story to tell. He assumed Ian had connected the dots after the bits he’d told him, though.
That night, he explained him the stories being each and every of the scars on his body – well, from what he remembered.
“Mickey! Is it that hard to restock the fucking –“ Ian started ranting as he got out of the bathroom, but paused once he saw him.
“Toilet paper,” Jay provided, waving awkwardly.
“I didn’t know you were here already,” he told him, standing near the threshold to the bathroom – an empty roll of toilet paper in hand.
“Hey, Ian,” Mickey started, making his way out of the bedroom. “Jay’s here,” he kept on but his voice lowered as he probably noticed the two men had already met.
“Toilet paper,” Ian simply told him.
“Sorry,” Mickey mumbled, taking the roll from Ian’s hand. He then kissed Ian’s cheek, almost as an apology for everything. “Mandy said they’ll be there soon as well,” he informed them. Ian saw Jay nodding lightly before he made his way into the open space of the living room.
“Do you need help with anything or?” he asked, looking at Ian.
Ian’s lips made a thin line. He barely recognized the man in front of him. Sure, physically, he’d changed – aged even. He’d cut his hair short, almost army required haircut, and for once, was cleanly shaved. He wasn’t like the college student he’d despised all this time. It destabilized Ian a bit, to say the least. A year after their fuck-up, Jay wasn’t like the man he used to be. Ian hadn’t seen him for nearly 7 months – not that he minded, really. Still, he was over it. Over this fuck-up. The three of them had changed, they weren’t the men they used to be.
“Mickey was about to set the table, right?” His boyfriend vehemently nodded, and tilted his head to show Jay the way.
“Smells pretty good,” Jay commented, grabbing the offered plates. “You cooked all this?” he asked Ian.
“Hm, yeah,” Ian replied, eyeing all the dishes scattered over the bench. “Mickey helped a lot, too.”
“You cooked?” Jay turned to Mickey, a genuine surprise tinting his features.
“I did,” he answered proudly. “But all the credit goes to Ian,” he added. “Never in hell would I have decided to be the one inviting people over for Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t have made it without you helping,” Ian told him. He went to caress Mickey’s forearm gently as his boyfriend retrieved the glasses from the cupboard. Mickey smiled genuinely at him before quickly pecking his lips.
“Want something to drink?” he asked aloud for Jay, who was disposing the cutlery down onto the dinner table.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to arrive?” was Jay’s reply. He was actually voicing Ian’s thoughts.
“If you want,” Mickey replied before turning to Ian. “You know where Shawn is?”
“I’ll text him,” Ian told him.
[10:09 AM] Ian Gallagher: Jay’s here. Mandy and Jeremy are on their way. Where are you?
[10:12 AM] Shawn Thomas: On my way. Just boarded the L. See you soon. (Don’t kill anyone)
[10:16 AM] Ian Gallagher: Surprisingly enough, I’m not planning murder today.
“He’ll be there soon,” Ian told them, before pocketing his phone. He wasn’t going to wish anyone’s death today.
***
“So, what are you guys thankful for this year?” It was Jeremy who asked the question.
“What are you thankful for?” Mandy retorted smartly.
“Oh, we do it this way?” Her fiancé answered. Ian kind of dug their relationship. He hadn’t seen them that much along the months, but he and Mandy did get along pretty well – no wonder he was in love with her brother. If he’d been wired that way, he would probably have crushed on her instead. “Alright, I begin. I’m thankful for my beautiful fiancée here, who made me the happiest man on Earth by accepting to marry me.”
“Cheesy,” Jay coughed in his fist next to him. Ian had to admit it was cheesy, but he would never get over how in love Jeremy was with his sister-in-law.
“Oh,” his older brother huffed. “What are you thankful for, little brother of mine?”
“Hm.” That shut him up for a minute. Everyone at the table had their eyes on him, waiting for him to talk – maybe to make a mistake. Ian wasn’t expecting that. The young man he’d spent few hours with today was clearly unlike the one he’d always hated. He was genuinely curious of what he had to say right now. “I’m thankful for the people who made me grow up this year, who made me someone more responsible.” People at the table were speechless. It wasn’t much, but everyone here knew what he meant by this. They were just the six of them, but everyone knew what had gone down – everyone had witnessed it.
“Nice,” Ian nodded at him. “Mick?” he asked, his boyfriend being the next in line.
“I’m thankful for, hm – I’m thankful to be surrounded by people I love and who love me back.”
“Generic,” Mandy told him.
“What your boyfriend said was generic,” he retorted.
“Come on. You can do better than that,” Shawn chuckled. Ian, though, recognized the look on Mickey’s face and assumed someone was about to be embarrassed.
“Alright,” Mickey said, straightening up a bit. “I’m thankful to have someone I can talk sex toys with. I’m thankful to not hear my sister and his fiancé going at it more often than not. I’m thankful I live with someone I actually love. I’m thankful people at work aren’t shitheads. And I’m thankful people around this table are adult enough to sort their shit out. Better?”
Ian grinned at him. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it’d be. “Come here,” he murmured before pecking gently his boyfriend’s lips.
“Your turn,” Mickey mumbled.
“Alright. Hm. I’m thankful for my family and my friends. Really.”
“That’s common as shit as well,” Mandy commented. “You two are seriously getting boring, let me tell you.”
“Hey,” Shawn intervened, but smiled nonetheless.
“That’s none of your business but there’s actually more to it, Mands,” Mickey told his sister. “He’s right to be thankful for his family. And friends,” he said, looking intently at Shawn. Ian didn’t need to be defended, but it always felt nice to have Mickey reading his mind that easily. It felt also nice to have people he cared about surrounding him like this.
“If you say so,” Mandy huffed. “Angel Face, your turn.”
“Angel Face?” Jeremy repeated. “I thought I was Angel Face.”
Jay snorted next to him, “you?”
“Yeah, you?” Mickey commented as well. “Far from it.”
“Very very far,” Mandy added. “So?” she refocused on Shawn next to her.
“Hm,” he hesitated. “I guess I’m thankful Ian quitted his job, meaning I have longer shifts and earn more money?”
“You’re an asshole,” Ian informed him.
“I know,” Shawn smiled at him. “That’s why your boyfriend likes me,” he retorted with a laugh.
“We don’t need to know stuff like that,” Jeremy told him, scrunching up his face.
“Who do you think he talks sex toys with?” Shawn asked him.
“Shut up,” Mickey surged.
“I thought it’d be Jay,” Mandy said, effectively shutting everyone up. Few people at the table were glaring at her as if she had made the mistake. Ian thought it was kind of childish and eased the growing tension.
“Not talking about details of our sex life,” he said. “He already knows too much,” he pointed at Shawn. “Mandy? Your turn?”
“Oh, hm,” she looked around as if someone was about to throw a fit whatsoever but no one budged. “I’m thankful for the happiness both my fiancé and my brother are bringing me.”
“Basic bitch,” Mickey commented.
“Hey, I can say basic shit as well,” she stuck her tongue out at him, trying to kick him under the table at the same time – Ian knew that because he was the one actually kicked. Her legs were probably too short to reach her brother’s. “And, I’m hungry so whatever. Bon appétit, guys!”
“Yeah, yeah, stuff your face in with free food.”
“That’s kinda the idea, yeah,” Shawn told Mickey.
***
“Who’s texting you?” Ian kicked at Shawn’s shin. Shawn had been checking his phone too many times within the day. Ian, Mickey and Mandy had requisitioned the couch, leaving no room for the others. Shawn and Jay were down on the floor, sitting on cushions while the older Asher brother had been sent over to the kitchen to clean the dishes.
“None of your business,” Shawn retorted.
“A boyfriend?” Jay turned to look at him.
“None of your business,” Mickey repeated for Shawn.
“Is it?” Ian turned to Mickey. “Is it a boyfriend?” He said louder for Shawn, who was intently not looking at him.
“Does that mean I don’t have any chance?” Jay looked at Shawn under his lashes. Witnessing this was a tad awkward for Ian, who looked between the two men. The silence felt heavy – the only sounds were coming from Jeremy in the kitchen.
“You gays are so much drama,” Mandy mumbled – half lying on her brother.
“Bi,” Shawn corrected her.
“So, boyfriend?” Ian insisted.
“I don’t know,” the blond gave in with a sigh. Jay’s mouth twitched and he sighed as well – leaning against the coffee table. He put some distance between himself and Shawn. At that moment, Ian noticed how close they’d been sitting.
“Who’s this guy?” Ian repeated. The blond looked down at his hands again before glancing at Mickey. “Mick? You know?”
“How come he knows before you do?” was Mandy’s intervention.
“That’s a pretty fucking good question,” Ian said. “So?”
“Might as well tell him, Shawn. It’ll be official next week,” Mickey told him with a shrug.
“What’s happening next week?”
“I’ll have dinner at Boris’s parents.” No. That couldn’t be it.
“Boris?”
“Yes,” the blond nodded shyly. “As the boyfriend, I guess.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Ian asked, glancing at Mickey. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Ian,” Mickey muttered soothingly.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“You don’t like him,” Shawn retorted.
“Yeah, but I’ll make an effort if you’re actually dating him. You know that, right?”
“Hm, no.”
“Idiot,” Ian told him and threw the first cushion at reach to Shawn’s face. “How long?”
“Awhile,” he shrugged, blushing a bit.
“You’re dating a fucking banker.”
“Says the guy who had a crush on a bartender.”
“That’s not that bad,” Jay commented.
“Like you can talk,” Mandy said. “You dated a coworker. Who’s dumb enough to date a coworker?”
“Hey, I’m the youngest here. I can make mistakes.”
“But coworkers,” Ian insisted. “Dating coworkers can’t work.”
“Yeah,” Shawn agreed. “See?” He motioned for Ian and himself. “You can’t date coworkers. Fuck them if you want, but no relationship feelings whatsoever.”
“What are you talking about?” Jeremy asked, looking at the random cushions flying around.
“The fact that Shawn and Ian never dated, really. That Angel Face is apparently fucking a banker. That Jay has no excuse for dating a coworker. And that, bartenders are good guys? Right?” Mandy explained. She looked at Ian for confirmation.
“More or less,” he confirmed with a smile. Jeremy rolled his eyes and slapped the top of Jay’s head. Jay slapped him back before Shawn poked at his thigh.
They were good. Things were good.
“Mick,” Ian muttered. God, his boyfriend never slept. To be quiet honest, Mickey had been awake for awhile as well – still, he pretended not to. He’d felt Ian stirring against him a couple of minutes before. The arm around him had tightened before the hand had flattened protectively against his belly.
He felt safe there. Early morning, snow on the window’s edge, a warm blanket over his body, his boyfriend spooning him. There were no other place he’d like to be.
“I know you’re not sleeping,” Ian muttered. “But go ahead. Pretend.” Mickey struggled to fight back a smile, but he assumed he’d managed to keep a pretty decent poker face. Ian sighed his warm breath against his neck before keeping on talking in murmurs. “Too bad you’ll never hear how much I love you then. How much you make me happy. Last Christmas was pretty sad for me, except for your presence afterwards. But now you’re here. You’re here with me, and I have no intention to leave – neither do you, I assume. I mean, we share an apartment. And we made our first couple purchase. Okay, the car is pretty shitty and we haven’t christened it yet but that’s a big deal for both of us,” Ian ranted. His voice was still slightly hoarse with sleep, but at the same time so soft. Every word sent light shivers down his spine, made his hairs prickle on his neck. “Are you gonna say something at some point?” Mickey hesitated for few seconds before shaking his head no the most faintly as possible. “Alright,” he said with a smile. “I think we’re due to go on holidays together. I don’t know where nor when, but that could be a good idea, right? I mean, we make pretty good money with both of our jobs to pay the rent of a place I could afford by myself. We could go anywhere you want. Not too sunny, though. We would probably burn and that’s not really enjoyable, is it?”
“Christ, you never shut up,” Mickey mumbled, at last. He shifted within Ian’s embrace to pin him against the mattress. He lied his head against his chest and threw his leg over his thighs.
“Ah, he speaks,” Ian smirked. Mickey only chuckled lightly, stroking his boyfriend’s skin. “What about pancakes? Lots of syrup. We might have some fruit too.”
“Later,” Mickey told him. “’m comfy here.”
“You’re comfy everywhere,” Ian retorted, but cuddled him closer.
“Everywhere with you,” he corrected him. “Oh, and Merry Christmas, Ian,” he told him, looking up. Ian then looked down at him before making them shift to peck his lips gently.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Mick,” he replied against his lips. Mickey closed his eyes before cupping his boyfriend’s jaw with both hands. He brought their mouths together, and Ian went with it easily. Ian licked his lips gently, tasting him over and over again – as if he was rediscovering it every time. Both of Ian’s hands flattened against his back, securing him against his warm body.
Mickey moved his hands upward, fingers running through the curls he loved that much. He felt Ian’s smile in their tender kiss. God, he loved him. He would probably change some stuff about how their relationship had started, but what they had now – hell, what they’d been having for nearly a year – that was happiness. That was everything Mickey had never dared to hope for – and he knew it was the same for his boyfriend.
Ian made them roll over, entangling their limbs together and with the blanket and sheets. They heard it then. Faint moans, faint groans. Mickey didn’t focus on that, not when Ian’s tongue was playing with his. But then, the thump-thump from upstairs was too noticeable for him to ignore. He sighed into their kiss and dropped his head against the pillow. Ian rested his forehead next to his face.
“Christ,” the redhead muttered. Mickey was still running his fingers through the wild curls. The noises grew louder – the banging of the headboard couldn’t be mistaken with anything else, and the noises that accompanied it were pretty easy to discern.
Mickey turned his head towards Ian’s, his nose brushing against his cheek. When Ian looked at him, he saw the tiredness and frustration in his eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” Ian yelled suddenly, facing away from Mickey – away from his ear. “Shut the fuck up!” Well, some things never changed.