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Sixteen year old Ian Gallagher smiled as he flipped the “Closed, be back in 10” sign and unlocked the Kash-and-Grab door. Mickey had just left through the back after a quick and vigorous fuck in the stock room. He sighed like a twelve-year-old girl with a crush and mentally chastised himself as he took his place back in the register.
Mickey Milkovich… Who would have thought that local thug wannabe Mickey was gay and a bottom? And that he was so good at taking dick? The low noises he made, the grunts and sighs, the way he'd squeeze around Ian when he came… Shit, it would be better to stop this train of thought before he popped a hard on.
The door opened and some girls walked in, one of them eyeing Ian with interest. He let his smile die down, not wanting to encourage any potential crush on him. They headed straight to the cards shelf and started looking through ’em. They'd pick up one and read to their friends and they'd giggle and blush. Ian rolled his eyes discreetly, hoping they wouldn't take long.
Other customers came and went, Linda showed up with the boys, gave Ian the stink eye and gave Kash a dress down before leaving. The girls seemed to finally have chosen their cards and moved to the candy shelf, next to the register. Ian kept a close eye on them, Linda was in a crusade against the shoplifting and if the girls lifted something, she'd chew him down.
Unsurprisingly, thinking about petty crimes made him think of Mickey. While he rang the girls purchases (happy that they were willing to pay), he imagined how it would be to spend Valentine's Day with him. They'd probably just fuck and Mickey would punch him if Ian dared to say “Happy Valentine's”. Then he'd take something from the store, just to spite Ian.
Strangely, the idea didn't bother him. On the contrary, it made him smile. He wondered if it was possible to be ‘dick whipped’ when he was the one giving the dick in the relationship…
The hours dragged on and Ian powered through, keeping an eye on customers, dodging Kash's advances and daydreaming about Mickey. He wondered if the older boy was even aware that the next day was Valentine's Day. Maybe he could trick him into coming by closing time and they could go somewhere else… Maybe, if Ian was lucky, the other Milkoviches would be out of their house for the night and they could fuck in his bed.
When he was heading home, huddled inside his jacket, hands in his pockets, when someone pulled him into an alley and covered his mouth. He immediately threw his head back, hitting his assailant on the nose, hopefully, as he elbowed them hard on the ribs for good measure. He spun, ready to finish things off with a kick and a punch but stopped when he saw who had just tried to kidnap him or whatever.
“Mickey?!”
“What the hell, Gallagher?” He was holding his bleeding nose with one hand and used the other to rub at his torso, on the spot where Ian's bony elbow probably left a mark.
“I thought you were a fag basher… Why the fuck did you grab me like that? And started to drag me into a fucking alley? I could have killed you!” He fought to catch his breath, annoyed that Mickey had tried to scare him like that.
“Fuck… You almost broke my nose.”
“Serves you well, asshole!” He shoved the other away angrily.
Mickey gave a breathless laugh. “Wasn't trying to scare you, just to surprise you. Not my fault you get scared like a little bitch.” And by now, Ian was fluent enough in ‘Mickey Speak’ to realize that the older boy didn't have any ill intentions, but hadn't think things through either. Hell, waiting for Ian to leave work in a dark alley and grab him when he passed was probably Mickey’s idea of a fun gesture. His theory was confirmed by the look in the dark haired boy’s face. “But I didn’t know you had it in you, Gallagher…” He gave Ian an appreciative once over, his smirk turning into a grin when he noticed Ian blushing.
“What, did you forget when I broke into your house with a tire iron?”
“Nah, I remember pretty well having you pinned on my bed.”, said Mickey, suggestive.
Ian squinted at him. “Hey, did you sit so close to my face on purpose? Your dick was almost on my chin…”
“Fuck you!” He answered, but there was no heat in it. Ian started laughing and Mickey soon followed.
When their laughter died down, Ian decided to just go for it, 'go big or go home’, right?
“Wanna come by the store tomorrow? I don't think Linda will show up and she's keeping a close eye on Kash, so he might not be around either…”
Mickey looked at him like he knew exactly what Ian was doing. For a second, Ian feared he was gonna be laughed at, but Mickey just shrugged and agreed. The younger boy nodded and bit back the 'it's a date then’ that almost left his mouth. They walked together for a couple of blocks, before Mickey turned into his street and left Ian to walk the rest of the way to the Gallagher's house alone.
— + —
The redhead was determined to make the day memorable, so when they fucked, it was hard, fingers intertwined, Ian's mouth sucking bruises on Mickey's back, Mickey letting out those low, punched out noises that drove Ian crazy. Maybe he was grabbing Mickey's hip a little stronger than he usually did, maybe he was fucking him a little harder and deeper, maybe he was being extra careful with his thrusts to make sure he was hitting the spot that made Mickey almost whine dead on every time, but fuck it. It was Valentine's Day and Mickey was with him. He'd be damned if he didn't make the most of it.
Later, when Mickey was leaving the store with that satisfied grin on his face, Ian couldn't resist pushing his luck a little further. He grabbed a pack of smokes from the counter, shoved it in a bag and handed to Mickey.
“For you.”
Mickey froze. He eyed the bag, then Ian, then the door. For a moment, Ian was sure he was about to be decked, but Mickey bit the corner of his bottom lip and snatched the bag from his hand. He unlocked the door, but before opening it, he grabbed a Snickers bar from the counter and threw it at Ian. In his shock, the redhead couldn't react as Mickey mumbled “See ya’, Gallagher.” on his way out.
— + —
He ate his gift after dinner, slowly, appreciating every bite, while finishing homework. Lip kept sending him suspicious looks because of his permanent smile, but he couldn't be bothered. He hoped Mickey was enjoying his gift as much as he was enjoying his.
Later, already in bed, Ian was still smiling, again like a twelve-year-old with a crush. He turned in his bed, facing the wall and closed his eyes. He let the memories wash over him: every squeeze of Mickey's fingers on his, every breathless sound, every push back of his hips. He bit his lip to not let out a loud, dreamy sigh. It had been a fucking great Valentine's Day.
In the Milkovich house, Mickey sat in his bed, smoking from the pack Ian had given him. He looked out the window, distractedly touching and poking the finger shaped bruise on his hip and smiled, remembering Ian's stupid freckled face when he not-so-smoothly asked him to meet on Valentine's Day, the pressure of his teeth on his back, the hard thrusts that made his knees weak. His smile grew larger as he blew the smoke out. It had been a fucking great Valentine's Day.