Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10529214.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shameless_(US)
  Relationship:
      Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich, Mickey_Milkovich/Svetlana_Milkovich
  Character:
      Ian_Gallagher, Mickey_Milkovich, Lip_Gallagher, Fiona_Gallagher, Debbie
      Gallagher, Carl_Gallagher, Mandy_Milkovich
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Fluff_and_Smut, Blow_Jobs, First_Time_Blow_Jobs, Emotional
      Manipulation, Reunions, Gay_Bar, Homophobic_Language, Strippers_&_Strip
      Clubs, Domestic_Fluff, Closeted_Character, Thug!Mickey, Intimidation
  Series:
      Part 7 of Words_I_Never_Said
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-02 Words: 5177
****** Make Your Move On Me ******
by MCRmyGeneral
Summary
     "You comin' back?"
     Mickey's blowjob and other scenes from 4x8.
Notes
     Title is from Move Like U Stole It by ZZ Ward. Which is actually a
     great fucking song! I have both the dance club remix and the original
     on my iTunes and they're both amazing and both in my top 25 most
     played.
     This was originally gonna have a different name until I realized that
     I literally had to give it a title from the song that was playing
     during the kiss. There was no way I couldn't.
See the end of the work for more notes
Go home, Mickey. This is stupid. You're just gonna make a fool out of yourself.
This is a really bad idea.
The vicious voice in Mickey's head wouldn't stop. It kept telling him over and
over that this wasn’t what he should be doing. What did he possibly think was
gonna happen here? He was an idiot for running back to Gallagher. The voice was
right, which only made Mickey angrier. He ended up chewing on the end of the
cigarette he had between his lips, which grossed him out. He ripped it out of
his mouth angrily and threw it in the street. The wind whipped around his face,
numbing his lips and bringing tears to his eyes.
He turned the corner and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Gallagher
house looming less than a block away. But his relief was quickly squashed down
by that fucking voice again.
He might not even be here. It's possible that he left again. And here you are
running after him like a bitch.
Mickey snarled at the stupid voice, that sounded a little like his father's,
enough to make him uncomfortable. He wasn’t Gallagher’s bitch. He was just
worried about his friend. That's all.
He didn't bother knocking at the back door; he just peeked his head in. Holy
shit, there were a lot of Gallaghers. He knew that already, but seeing five
pairs of eyes all turn his way at the same time was a little intimidating.
He decided to make this short and sweet.
“Ian here?” He asked the oldest, Fiona.
She nodded toward the ceiling. “He's upstairs.”
Mickey said nothing else, just followed her gaze and stomped up the stairs in
search of the boy’s room.
“Ian's here?” He heard a chorus of annoyed/relieved/surprised voices ring out
down in the kitchen. He chuckled in spite of himself.
The house was bigger than it looked, but was cramped full of the toys and
clothes and shoes of six people. Mickey stepped over piles of laundry and Lego
play sets and boxes of art supplies as he walked toward the room with the
caution tape on the door. He couldn't imagine that was the girl's room.
He walked right in, closing the door behind him. He was careful to keep his
face as neutral as he could when he saw Ian look up from the notebook he was
scribbling in.
Ian glanced up at Mickey, the remnants of last night’s eyeliner staining his
eyes, which actually made him look kind of sinister and seriously sexy. But he
turned his eyes back to the notebook he had balanced on his knee.
Damn, he looked good, in a long-sleeved shirt that hugged him in all the right
places, showing off the body he'd built during his time in the Army. He had
always been chiseled and cut, but he was like, actually buff now and Mickey
would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't looking finer than he ever had
before. It made it that much more difficult to keep from jumping him right then
and there.
Mickey noticed something else. His eyes were clearer, no longer bloodshot. The
bags under his eyes weren't gone, but were significantly lighter than they had
been the night before. He was sober, or at least mostly sober. Which was good.
Seeing Ian so out of it and on God knows how many drugs the night before had
seriously scared Mickey, though he tried to deny it to himself.
“See you left,” Mickey noted, leaning against the dresser, “Took all your
shit.”
“Your bride threatened me with a claw hammer,” Ian said with what could've been
a smirk. Mickey couldn't tell because he didn't raise his head.
“She what?”
That made Ian look up. “Yeah. Walked in on me in the shower. Told me if I
stayed there another night, she'd bash my skull in,” He explained nonchalantly,
sounding halfway amused. He shrugged. “Figured it would be best not to piss her
off too much. Pregnancy hormones and everything,” He said, looking back to his
notebook.
“It's not her fuckin’ house to be makin’ demands in.”
“She lives there, doesn't she?”
Mickey sneered. Unfortunately.
He was about to open his mouth again when the door opened and two Gallaghers
ran into the room.
“You're back!” The girl said happily.
“Oh, hey, guys!” Ian grinned, hopping off the bed and hugging the girl. “Oh,
man. I missed you guys. Hey, come here,” Ian groaned, picking the younger boy
up and squeezing him. A pang of jealousy stabbed into Mickey’s stomach. He
wished he could hug Ian like that, but so many things were stopping him,
including his own stupid pride.
The oldest brother, Lip, walked in. “Hey, man!” He smiled, hugging Ian tightly,
and keeping one eye on Mickey the whole time. Mickey just stood to the side,
feeling like a stranger at the mini-reunion. He shrugged his jacket off and
watched the Gallaghers.
“Lip says you stole a helicopter,” The kid brother said when Ian and Lip
separated.
Mickey raised an impressed eyebrow. Did he really?
“I tried to,” Ian clarified with a shrug and a smile. “Kind of tipped it.
Blades snapped. Motor caught fire,” He explained.
The kid chuckled. “Awesome. You shoot anyone?”
Ian paused for a second, debating on what details he should release to the tiny
psycho. “I never left basic.”
The kid furrowed his eyebrows. “You can't shoot anyone there?”
Mickey cocked an eyebrow. This kid was a little sociopath, but he kind of
reminded Mickey of himself as a child. He wasn't sure if that was a compliment
or not.
“You can. I didn't.”
The kid frowned. “You shot no one. You flew nothing. Why'd you even go there in
the first place?”
“Relationship issues,” Ian offered without a pause.
Mickey saw Lip’s eyes flicker over to him, wary and cautious. He met them with
the same intensity. He knew Lip didn't trust him. He didn't have any reason to.
Mickey had single-handedly drove his brother miles away from home. He wouldn't
have liked him much either, if he were in Lip’s shoes.
“Yeah, you okay?” Lip asked his brother.
Ian nodded. “Yup, all good,” He answered, and Mickey wasn't sure if it was just
for his siblings’ sake or if he and Ian were actually on the verge of mending
their fucked-up relationship.
But Ian's answer seemed enough for Lip, who obviously understood that the boys
needed to be alone. “Cool. All right. Well, let's go get some dinner, dorks,”
He said, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “Hey, I'll catch up with you
later, yeah?”
Ian nodded. “Yeah, later, man.”
“All right. Come on, let's go!” Lip instructed, herding the kids out the door
and thankfully closing it behind him. Mickey waited a second before he spoke.
“You coming back?”
“I suppose. I mean, I'm already home. Why leave again?” Ian said with a smile
and a shrug, purposely teasing the boy.
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant.”
“Aaahh,” Ian nodded. He sighed. “Depends. Will you suck my dick whenever I
want?” He asked with an evil smirk.
“Fuck off!” Mickey threw at him, rolling his eyes.
“Hm,” Ian shrugged again, turning his attention back to the small notebook. He
continued scribbling on the pages, too fast to possibly be handwriting. Mickey
peered over his shoulder, but could make absolutely no sense of the lines and
swirls marking the pages. “What you writing?” He asked.
“Stuff,” Ian answered, not looking up. “Notes, ideas,” He said, like he wasn't
bothered in the least by the tension that had settled between the two.
Mickey licked his lower lip. He hated this. Ian felt like a stranger to him,
was acting like it. He knew why; Ian was still hurt by Mickey's marriage, was
still feeling burned because he hadn't done anything to try to stop him from
leaving those long months ago. But Ian was keeping himself composed, acting
like he didn't even care about Mickey anymore. That's what hurt. The thought
that maybe Mickey really had hurt the boy, hurt him badly enough to make him
move on. He didn't want Ian to move on. He wanted the boy more than ever, each
day they'd been apart was a needle in Mickey's chest. He needed to show Ian
that he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to hurt him, that he cared about him.
He couldn't lose him, not again.
“I'll do it,” He said softly, before he even knew what he was saying.
Ian finally looked up from his papers. “Do what?” He asked, smirking.
Mickey rolled his tongue along his teeth. “Don't make me say it, asswipe.”
“Suck my dick,” Ian said firmly. “Whenever I want.”
Mickey knew this was what he needed to prove to Ian that he was important to
him. He'd refused to go down on him in the past, claiming it was too gay.
Blowing Ian had been the glass ceiling that Mickey would have to break to get
his point across.
Ian looked up at him expectantly, the very tips of his lips curling into a
smile. Mickey huffed, because Ian was a smug asshole, but he saw the affection
in his eyes.
He tilted his head in defeat and dropped to his knees between Ian's legs,
looking up at the boy through his lashes as he worked at his belt.
Ian braced his hands on the bed behind him, tilting his head back as Mickey
pulled him from his boxers. He was half-hard already, the defeat in Mickey's
eyes turning him on more than it should've. After years of Mickey pulling his
strings, he'd finally gotten the chance to play the puppet master for once, and
the reward was well worth it.
Mickey jerked Ian a couple times, until he hardened fully, then slowly,
hesitantly, he wrapped his lips around his dick.
Ian's eyes slipped closed and he moaned above Mickey, which had his own dick
hardening in his jeans. God, he missed that noise.
It was safe to say that Mickey had no idea what he was doing, so he kept a slow
pace, sinking down and bobbing his head slowly, wrapping his hand around the
part of Ian's dick that wouldn't fit in his mouth. He tried to remember how Ian
blew him, but when you've got a warm, wet pair of lips wrapped around your
cock, you don't really have time to take notes. Instead, he just focused on
what made Ian gasp and moan, like flattening his tongue against the underside
of his dick, or swirling it around the head.
“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian moaned, sliding a hand into his long hair. He didn't grip
or pull, he just let his hand slip into Mickey's hair and rest on the back of
his head, rising and falling every time the boy sank down on his dick.
Mickey smiled when he felt Ian's fingertips against his scalp. Okay, so maybe
he'd been missing out by refusing to suck Ian off in the past. The whimpers and
gasps he was pulling from Ian's lips had him straining against his zipper. He
definitely understood why Ian seemed to enjoy blowing him so much. There was a
sense of pride that came along with knowing he was making Ian nearly fall apart
above him.
Mickey looked up to see Ian staring down at him with lust-blown, lidded eyes,
looking proud and aroused at the same time.
Mickey smiled and he felt Ian's dick twitch when he did.
Ian's breathing got heavier, and his thighs started twitching.
“Gonna cum, Mick,” He breathed, warning Mickey to pull off now or he'd get a
throat full of spunk. Mickey did think briefly about pulling away and finishing
Ian off with his hand, but ultimately decided against it. He had something to
prove.
“Mickey… fuck, Mickey. Mick!” Ian mewled as he squirmed, his voice pitching
higher.
Mickey didn't back off. He kept sucking until he felt the first drops spurt
against the back of his throat. Ian shuddered and gasped as he came, his
fingertips digging into Mickey's scalp just slightly. To Mickey's surprise, he
didn't gag, though it did feel a little weird. He just swallowed it down, and
did the same with the rest.
When Ian's dick was done twitching with aftershocks, Mickey finally pulled off,
wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his sweater. He looked up to see Ian leaning
back on his hands, staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” He whispered, still trying to catch his breath. He
tilted his head down to look at Mickey, who hadn't moved from between his legs.
Mickey looked sexy as hell, lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed and pupils
blown in arousal. But he also looked a little sad and vulnerable, and Ian knew
it wasn't because he felt weak sucking dick. It was because of the question
he'd asked Ian before he'd started.
Ian smiled softly. He zipped his jeans back up and scooted to the edge of the
bed. He set a gentle hand on Mickey's cheek, the rush of blood under the boy’s
skin warming his hand.
“Of course, Mickey,” He whispered to the boy, setting his forehead against his,
“I'm comin’ back.”
Mickey didn't care that Ian saw, with those words he blew out a relieved sigh
that lifted the weight of a thousand suns off his shoulders. He had never
missed anyone the way he'd longed for Ian the past months. Nobody understood
him the way Ian did, made him feel the way Ian could. He knew there was no
point in hiding his feelings anymore. He needed Ian like he needed water or
air.
Mickey closed the short distance and kissed Ian roughly, the taste of the
redhead’s orgasm still lingering on his tongue. He didn't care. He wrapped his
arms around Ian's neck, standing when Ian did.
“Thank you,” Mickey said softly, so soft that Ian almost didn't hear him.
Ian smiled against Mickey's lips. He backed the boy up until he was pressed
against the post of Carl's bed. He kissed and licked at Mickey's neck as he
unbuckled the boy's belt. Mickey captured his lips again as Ian snaked his hand
into his boxers, grabbing his dick and jerking him off slowly. Mickey moaned
and gasped into Ian's mouth, and Ian swallowed the sounds down eagerly.
It didn't take long before Mickey was cumming into Ian's hand, the boy's name
on his lips. Ian chuckled triumphantly and stepped back, searching for a dirty
shirt to wipe his dirty hand on while Mickey tucked himself away.
Mickey's head spun as he sat down in the desk chair between Ian's bed and the
crib in the corner. “I have no idea what I'm gonna say to her,” he sighed.
“Who?” Ian asked, sitting back down on his bed.
“Svetlana. She's gonna go off on me as soon as I walk in, spouting some
bullshit in Russian and expecting me to answer her,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“God, you have no idea how badly I don't wanna go home,” He confessed, pinching
the bridge of his nose.
Ian thought on that for a second. “You don't have to.”
“The fuck do you mean?” Mickey asked, cocking an eyebrow at the boy on the bed
across from him.
Ian shrugged. “Stay here.”
“Okay, sure thing," Mickey said with a sarcastic scoff, "Let me just roll out a
sleeping bag on the floor.”
“Think about it. Your dad’s in jail, will be for a while, so he doesn't need to
know. And Svetlana and Mandy both know, so we don't have to worry about making
excuses to them.”
“What about your family?”
Ian grimaced guiltily. “Lip knows.”
Annoyance flared in Mickey's eyes. “Yeah, I know. He came by my place asking
about you last week and wouldn't fuck off until I admitted that I was worried
about you.”
Half of Ian's mouth pulled into a lopsided smile. “You were worried about me?”
“Shut up.”
Ian chuckled, and so did Mickey.
“They wouldn't care, Mick. About us.”
Mickey's palms went clammy. “This new thing between us… it doesn't mean I'm
comin’ out.”
“So don't. I'm just saying, if you don't want to, you don't have to hide here.
I don't think she will, but if Fiona puts up a fight, I need to do is tell her
that you're important to me and she'll back off. Nobody needs to know anything
you don't want them to. But you're safe here. I promise.”
A lump formed in Mickey's throat. Could it be true? Safety? A home where he was
free to be himself, no chains, no apologies, no lies? A home with Ian?
“I could stay for a while. If it's okay.”
The smile Ian gave Mickey in return was all the answer he needed. Mickey was
relieved to see that Ian was still every bit the smitten puppy he'd been then
they'd started fucking casually two years ago. Only now, Mickey found himself
smiling after Ian just as much as he saw Ian smiling at him. Shit. Maybe they
were both love-sick puppies. And for once, Mickey didn't mind.
****
“Well, then it's hi, hi, hey, the army's on its way. Count off the cadence loud
and strong! Two, three! For wherever you go, you will always know that the army
goes marching along.”
Mickey groaned and rolled over, rubbing his face. “Shut the fuck up,
Gallagher,” He muttered to himself as he finally opened his eyes. He didn't
know what time it was, but the sun was blinding through what little window
covering there was in the boys’ room. Mickey threw the blanket off himself and
made sure he was decent (Ian had slid off his bed and joined him on the floor
last night after Carl and Liam had fallen asleep) before he stomped down the
stairs to the kitchen.
“You people always so goddamn noisy in the morning?” He asked, grumpy as usual
this early. A morning person, Mickey was certainly not. He saw Mandy standing
expectantly in the middle of the kitchen. “What?” He asked, grabbing a plate
from the stack next to the stove.
“Your wife's water broke. Let's go,” Mandy said impatiently.
Mickey shuddered at Svetlana being referred to as his wife. “Go where?”
“The hospital,” Mandy answered.
“She's having the baby?” Ian asked.
“What do you think happens when a pregnant woman’s water breaks?” Debbie piped
up from beside Ian. And really, that was a dumb question on his part.
Mickey scooped a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto his plate. “Tell her I said
good luck.”
“What, you're not gonna go be with her?”
“Hell, no. I got work. Besides, she probably doesn't even want me there.”
“It's not the baby's fault you guys are a shit show.”
Mickey huffed. “Yeah, and it's not my fault the bitch got knocked up. Who the
fuck knows if it's even mine?” He threw at her, and in reality, the chances of
it being Mickey's were slim to none. The baby was more likely his brother than
his son, but Mickey tried to think as little as possible about the fact that he
and his father had both fucked Svetlana in a short enough span to both be
possible paternal matches.
“You're an asshole,” Mandy sneered at Mickey and walked out the door.
“Congrats!” Ian smirked sarcastically at Mickey, who flipped him the bird.
“Full house, like old times,” Fiona said cautiously as she walked into the
kitchen. “Smells good. Leftovers?” She asked.
Debbie shot up from her seat and stomped over to the sink, staring daggers at
Fiona the whole way. Mickey knew there was tension between her and her siblings
who, for the most part, still held some animosity towards her for what had
happened to Liam, and rightly so. He had also seen, in the sixteen short hours
he'd been here, almost a power struggle in the house between Fiona and Lip, and
he wanted no part of that. So he stood in the corner, drinking his coffee and
eating his eggs and trying to go unnoticed as the fuse burned down.
“You destroyed my art project. It's completely ruined,” Debbie shrieked at her.
“You're such a bitch!”
“Whoa, Debbie!” Lip yelled at his sister, and Mickey couldn't help but smile.
‘Bitch’ was too far? Please, it was a term of endearment in his house.
“She went into my room, she trashed all of my stuff, and she kicked all of my
clothes under the bed!” Debbie yelled, throwing her plate into the sink.
“I asked you to clean up!”
“Did you?” Debbie snarled, and Mickey thought that if he'd ever spoken to his
father like that, he'd be backhanded.
The younger kid, Carl, Mickey learned last night, also stood and set his plate
in the sink, thankfully a lot more gently than his sister. “She went through
mine too. She threw away my porn, my nunchucks, and my taser. You know how many
police dumpsters I had to go through to find that?”
“I told you to get rid of that stuff.”
“I hid it so the stupid PO wouldn't find it.”
“Well, luckily, your stupid sister found it first! God, maybe next time you'll
do what I ask, both of you,” She barked at the kids.
Mickey ducked his head, ignoring the rest of the conversation. The Gallaghers
had always seemed functional compared to his family, but seeing it firsthand,
he realized that every house had their own problems.
The room cleared out suddenly, so Mickey made his move. He grabbed the coffee
pot and walked over to the table, offering it to Ian.
“Hey. Want some more?”
Ian nodded with a soft smile, and Mickey refilled his mug.
He caught Ian's eye and couldn't help his smile. This felt nice. But of course,
Fiona interrupted it. “You got any cash you could toss my way?” She asked Ian.
Ian stood and dug in his pockets. “I'm working a double tonight,” He told
Mickey. “You want to stop by?”
“Yeah, sure,” Mickey scoffed into his coffee cup. “Got nothing better to do
than watch a bunch of pruney queens slap their sacks against your ass cheeks.”
Ian laughed, and Mickey smiled.
****
The voice in his head told him not to go. He wasn't planning on going. He knew
he'd just get hit on and probably groped and would spend all night sitting in
the corner fighting off old queens that were looking for a tight young fucktoy
for the night. It was stupid. Why would he drag his ass all the way to Boystown
just to watch every fag in Chicago eyefuck his boyfriend? What fun would that
be? He wasn't gonna go.
He told himself he wasn't gonna go even as he showered and shaved, going so far
as to actually run a comb through his hair and throw on cologne. The kind of
guys that went to the Fairytail were either young and super muscular or old and
super rich. Mickey was neither, but he was good-looking enough, could send any
fairy that approached him to the hospital, and if nothing else, he smelled
good. Ian always told Mickey how much he liked the way he smelled.
He stopped telling himself that he wasn't gonna go when he was seated on the L,
the bright lights of the city flying past him. He got dizzy as he watched the
lights whizz past, and he imagined that this was how Ian felt when he was high.
Mickey himself stayed away from the hard stuff, seeing how it fucked Terry up
when he was a kid, but he tried not to give Ian too much shit for it. After
all, it kind of came with the territory.
He squared his shoulders as he walked into the bar, the lights flashing and the
music pumping so loud he'd gotten an instant headache. Every flirtatious eye
that turned his way was met with ice, Mickey instantly curbing all the lewd
thoughts about him. He was here for one reason and one reason only.
And that reason was currently on a platform in the middle of the club, shaking
the tight ass that was shoved into impossibly small gold shorts, and had at
least two dozen sets of eyes roaming over every inch of that ridiculous body.
Mickey ordered a scotch on the rocks from the bar and found as private of a
spot as he could find. It wasn't difficult; he must have been radiating an aura
of don't fuckin' come near me or I'll knock every one of your fuckin' teeth
out, because the other bar patrons kept at least a four-foot distance at all
times, leaving Mickey in his own little bubble.
He leaned against a railing, sipping his drink and staring daggers at every
fairy that set their eyes on his man.
He was more conflicted than he ever had been before. On one hand, he certainly
didn't hate the view. He could watch Ian dance for days, hips swaying and ass
bouncing and hands sliding over his own skin. Mickey was nearly popping a tent
just watching him.
But on the other hand, he hated that Ian was on display for everyone to
eyefuck. He hated knowing that all the guys in the bar were watching him. He
felt like Ian was nothing more than a piece of meat in this place, and he hated
that they all saw him as a sex toy. The fact that there were so many deviants
here and he couldn't hit any of them annoyed him more than it should've. He
wanted to leave, and he almost did. Until Ian looked over his shoulder and
locked eyes with him.
The sensual smirk he'd been wearing stretched into a full-fledged grin when he
saw Mickey, his teeth gleaming blue and pink from the lights above. Mickey
couldn't help it; he smiled back. Ian looked so happy to see him, there was no
way he could leave now. Ian's grin softened, and he went back into sex kitten
mode, only now he made sure to swing his hips in Mickey's direction every once
in a while.
Gallagher, you fucking tease, Mickey thought with a small smile.
“I want you in my bed in a minute flat,,” A new song came on over the speakers,
and Mickey vaguely recognized it as a remix of some song Mandy had been
obsessed with last year.
Ian had caught the eye of an older guy, fat and balding and unattractive in the
worst way.
You could do so much better, Mickey mentally chastised his secret boyfriend.
But the guy was a fish on a line, reeled in by those hips. He walked over to
Ian's platform, waving a bill in front of the boy
Oh, hell no, Mickey thought. He hopped over the railing he'd been leaning
against, landing hard, the drop making his feet ache when they hit the ground.
But he ignored it, striding over to where the man was just about to slip his
money into Ian's shorts, and grabbed him with a viselike grip on his arm,
pulling him away from the platform.
“Those fingers go anywhere near that cock, I'mma break every knuckle on your
hand, all fifteen of ‘em,” Mickey growled, pushing the man harshly.
The man stumbled, clearly half-drunk, but he rebutted. “Settle down, rumble
fish. Anyway, a hand only has fourteen knuckles,” He corrected him, wiggling
his fingers in Mickey's face.
Mickey furrowed his eyebrows. “You want to fucking die?” He snarled, advancing
on the man until he ran away.
Only fourteen knuckles? he wondered when he turned back around. He counted the
knuckles on his hand and sure enough, Drunk Pervert was right. Aw, fuck him.
Ian smiled down at Mickey from the platform, having watched him scare away a
decent tip. He should've been pissed that the boy was costing him money, but he
just smirked. Jealous Mickey was utterly adorable and more than a little
arousing.
He hopped down from his mini stage.
“We got invited to an after-hours at the loft of one of my regulars,” He told
Mickey, whose sour expression didn't change. “It's fun,” He insisted. “What's
wrong with fun?”
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Nothing, unless it involves some fat faggot shoving
his hands down your-”
Ian couldn't help it. Mickey was sexy as hell when he was jealous. He leaned in
to kiss the boy, but Mickey flinched away.
“What the fuck?” He hissed, looking around to make sure nobody saw them, which
was ridiculous, given where they were.
Ian sighed dramatically and cocked an eyebrow at Mickey. “What?” He asked
innocently.
Mickey looked at Ian increduiously. “We are in public,” He snarled between
clenched teeth.
Ian chuckled. “We’re in a gay bar, Mick. You think anyone in here thinks you're
straight? You afraid you're gonna get outed here, in a fairy bar in Boystown?”
He pointed out, a little condescendingly.
Mickey's scowl fell as he looked around. Ian was right. Nobody was looking
twice at them. Nobody cared. He smiled a little.
“This is why brought me here,” He guessed, and Ian blushed.
“Maybe.”
Mickey chuckled once. Gallagher was clever, the little fuck. He took another
look around the bar, and thought fuck it, closing the distance between himself
and Ian and kissing him like he'd never kissed the boy before.
His eyes slipped closed and he set a hand on Ian's cheek. Ian ran his hand
along the back of Mickey's head, kissing him almost hungrily. Their tongues
slid together roughly, like the thought of ever separating would cause them
actual physical pain. Whatever reservations Mickey had had about his and Ian's
relationship had blown away, extinguished like a candle flame. Kissing Ian like
this was what he wanted, how he wanted to spend the rest of his days.
Mickey had been waiting for it, waiting for the moment when he could kiss his
boyfriend and not give half a shit about who saw or noticed or what anyone
thought. Ian had seen that need, that want in Mickey's eyes, lurking beneath
his hard shell. He knew Mickey's deepest wish, even when Mickey tried to ignore
it himself. It was exactly why he asked him to come tonight. He'd given him
that gift, the opportunity to be out and happy, if only for a moment.
Mickey felt like a jackass for not realizing it sooner; Ian was so much more
than the dirty little secret he had considered him to be for so long. He was
more than a fuckbuddy, more than a crush, more than a boyfriend. Ian was
irreplaceable, a piece of himself that Mickey didn't even know he needed until
just now.
And if Mickey had to get eyefucked a gay bar for two hours to realize it, well,
that was just fine with him.
End Notes
     I take requests and prompts! Let me know what you'd like to see here!
     Also, if you're interested, I just posted a Gallavich video on
     youtube if you wanna go check it out! It's one of my favorite songs
     and I think it describes our boys perfectly!
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