Work Text:
“Ian…“ Mickey whispered, with a warning voice.
“Mickeeeeey!“
“Come on, man. I dragged you all the way down here, the least you can do-“
“Never said I wanted to go home!” Ian whined. “Let’s go back, Mick. One last pint.” Ian shouted, as he struggled to walk straight, despite Mickey’s support.
“Yeah, I don’t think so. “
Mickey and Ian had spent the night at the Excelsior, the bar near campus, to celebrate Ian being published in a local newspaper. Ian, who wasn’t really supposed to be drinking on his meds, ordered a beer a little stronger than usual and was now wasted, leaning on Mickey for support. Mickey had a few beers but he didn’t like to drink too much when he was with Ian; he tended to be quite the talkative drunk and well, he was afraid to say things he would probably not say to his boyfriend if he was sober. Doesn’t mean those things weren’t true.
They were almost at Ian’s apartment when Ian decided to rant about how beautiful Mickey was.
“I mean, your eyes are so bluuue, Mick! And your ass, it’s like perfect, I could stare at it all day. And when you smile, I just want to kiss the fuck out of you.“
Mickey tightened his grip on his boyfriend and mumbled something intelligible. It wasn’t the first time Ian would rant about how beautiful he thought he was and every time, Mickey would look away. Nobody had ever said that to him, and he was having a hard time believing Ian. They were together for a couple of months now, and even if Mickey wasn’t the kind of guy to shout it from the rooftops, he had never been so happy. He ended the semester with amazing grades, he knew his sister was safe and happy, and he had the sexiest, kindest boyfriend he could ask for.
But this state of grace was always a little bit shaken when he saw a guy approaching Ian, openly flirting with his redhead. Ian wasn’t naive; unlike Mickey, he could easily tell when a guy was trying to get into his pants and he learned how to get rid of them a long time ago. Except now it was easier, because he just had to say “sorry, man, but I got a boyfriend”.
Every time guys would hit on him with Mickey around, Mickey acted a little strange afterwards. Ian didn’t exactly know what was going on up there, but it felt like Mickey needed reassurance so they would go back to one of their places and Ian would force Mickey to cuddle for hours, whispering in his ear that he was perfect and beautiful and that there was no other place he’d rather be. Mickey would never answer, except for a few grunts here and there and a “fuck off, I’m not beautiful, you dumbass” but it always felt nice to hear Ian say these things.
They were finally inside Ian’s apartment, and Mickey realized that the walk didn’t help at all when it came to Ian’s drunken state; while Mickey was locking the door behind them, Ian was slowly dancing in the tiny living room, his long arms undulating in the air and his hips swaying gently in sync. His eyes were closed, and he was humming a song Mickey couldn’t recognize. He took a few seconds to watch his stupid boyfriend dance before he stepped forward and began to take Ian’s clothes off, starting with his jacket.
“I thought we could dance but this is such a better idea.” Ian said with a seductive smile. He placed his hands on Mickey’s shoulders for support while Mickey was unbuckling his belt.
“We’re not going to fuck, asshole. We’re going to bed. Stay still and try not to barf on me.” He said with an amused smile.
“I haven’t barf since 2010 for your information, and I’m not drunk. Come on, Mickey, you’re so sexy, I want you.”
“Just… stop with that shit.” Mickey was happy he was on his knees, taking off Ian’s pants and socks, because otherwise Ian would have seen the blush creeping up his neck. The words, despite said a billion times, still made him feel like a giggling schoolgirl when coming from Ian’s mouth.
“No.” Ian’s tone was serious suddenly, and before Mickey could look at him, he was dragged up on his feet and trapped into Ian’s embrace.
“You are beautiful and I don’t give a fuck if you don’t wanna hear it because I’m not gonna stop saying it.”
Ian pressed his face against Mickey’s neck, leaving a trail of small kisses on every spot he could reach, and he loved feeling Mickey relax under his touch. Mickey finally returned the hug and let his head fall on Ian’s chest, sighing deeply as Ian kept on kissing him softly.
After a while, Ian cradled Mickey’s neck and pressed his lips against his, softly at first but then more firmly, until Mickey allowed him to deepen it. They let escape shallow breaths as they kissed each other passionately, loving how their tongues fitted so perfectly together. Ian, whose hands were now on Mickey’s hips, squeezed them and detached his lips from Mickey’s but kept their forehead pressed together as they were trying to even their breaths.
Ian took one of Mickey’s hand in his and without a word, led him to his bedroom so they could lay down in silent, pressed against each other as their hands roamed softly on the other’s body until they fell asleep.
…
The next day, Ian woke up with a bad headache and no one at his side. He glanced towards his alarm and read it was past 9am, which meant Mickey was in class and that he had to hurry up if he didn’t want to be late for work. He took a long shower and got dressed before going into the kitchen to take his meds. The pills were already on the table, alongside with a note from Mickey.
You are a terrible drunk, Gallagher. See you this afternoon.
Ian smiled to himself and slipped the note in the back pocket of his jeans, eager already to see Mickey when really they had seen each other few hours ago and slept together.
The day at the coffee shop was pretty slow, and so Ian kept looking up at the alarm clock, almost pacing in the tiny space available behind the counter. When Mickey finally arrived and offered his brightest smile to Ian, Ian bit his bottom lip, but failed at hiding the huge grin Mickey always provoked.
Mickey sat at his usual spot and Ian brought him his coffee and his scone at the table, ignoring the depressed sighs of the schoolgirl team as he quickly pecked Mickey’s lip. His headache wasn’t so bad anymore, but he couldn’t wait to finish his shift, go home, maybe order pizza and watch a movie with Mickey. He was wondering what kind of movie Mickey would like to see when he realized his boyfriend wasn’t alone at the table.
There was a guy, leaning against the chair opposite Mickey; at first, Ian chose to ignore it because he knew Mickey enough to know that he would tell the guy to fuck off within seconds. But he didn’t. Instead, he seemed to be getting really into the conversation they were having and Mickey even smiled, that smile he usually only reserved for Ian. He wasn’t used to Mickey being approached by other guys; usually the tattoo knuckles and the constant grumpy face kept them at bay but apparently this one wasn’t intimidated, not one bit.
It’s cool, they’re talking, it’s not like he was…
Okay, now the guy was taking a seat in front of Mickey. Who the fuck was he? Ian’s shift ended in twenty minutes and he wondered how much longer this guy was planning on keeping his boyfriend entertained. Maybe he was a student, or maybe he was friend with Iggy and Mickey had met him at a party or something. Ian was trying not be paranoid, watching them carefully until the guy stood up and lifted up his shirt to show something to Mickey.
Ian turned around the counter, and fuming, went to Mickey’s sides, placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing almost painfully.
“Hey, Ian-“
“Who are you?” Ian asked, ignoring Mickey and staring at the guy, who was definitely hot. With a tattoo on his ribs. Exactly like Ian.
“I was showing-“
“Your fucking tattoo to my boyfriend.” Ian snapped.
“Look, Ian, we were just talking.”
Ian finally focused his attention on Mickey, who was pretty sure he had never seen this angry, bad version of Ian before. It was like he was on the verge of losing his mind right here and there; his cheeks were slightly red in anger and the soft puppy look had turned murderous. The guy had the presence of mind to sneak away at the first opportunity, leaving Ian and Mickey to their eye contest. Ian finally turned his attention toward the counter, only to see his co-worker had arrived, and so he was free to leave. He went to the staff room and grabbed his stuff, ready to leave the place through the back door but he knew he was being childish. He didn’t want to get things worse so he went back to the shop and nodded to Mickey, signaling him he was ready to leave.
The walk back Ian’s place was silent, except for the sound of Mickey lightning smokes after smokes. In some kind of punishment, he didn’t offer one to Ian, which he would always do, but today it was his silly way to say yes, I’m mad at you.
Once they were in the apartment, Mickey threw his jacket and his backpack on the couch and leant against it; he crossed his arms against his chest and narrowed his eyes at Ian, who was running around the apartment as if nothing had happened.
“You gonna tell me what the fuck was that?”
Ian gritted his teeth, not answering nor looking at Mickey, afraid to say something he could regret. Mickey waited a few minutes but realized Ian wasn’t going to open up; he wasn’t big on the all talking thing but as a matter of fact, not talking at all drove him crazy now.
“You know what? I’m gonna go since you obviously don’t want me here.” Mickey said, breaking the awkward silent. He was about to grab his stuff when finally, Ian spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off, huh? Were you seriously thinking the guy wanted to talk?” Ian scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, conscious that he was being ridiculous but incapable of stopping.
“You mad because that dumbass was flirting with me?” Mickey couldn’t suppress his laughter, and Ian saw red. He pushed Mickey against the nearest wall, trapping him. His right hand, flat against Mickey’s chest prevented him from moving and he captured his wrist in his other hand.
“Don’t make fun of me.” Ian growled, his expression hard as he tightened his grip on Mickey’s wrist. Mickey pushed him away, not liking the way Ian was handling him but becoming more and more aware of the reasons he was acting so strange. Despite the rejection, Ian was still standing inches away from Mickey, his breath ghosting over Mickey’s face, his eyes fixed on him.
“We were talking, for fuck’s sake, what did you think was going to happen, huh? What the hell got you so worked up anyway?” Mickey asked angrily.
“Because you’re mine!” Ian shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “I don’t like it when guys think they can hit on you!”
“Guys hit on you all the time! Mickey replied. “Only I don’t lose my shit every time it happens!” Mickey closed his eyes for a second, and when he reopened them, something was different. "Now you know how it feels like."
Ian took a step backward, and he detected something, something he didn’t see before; Mickey seemed sad, like he was rewinding all the times he had to witness guys hitting the man he was sure was to good for him. Ian instantly felt bad for neglecting Mickey’s feelings that way, and for freaking out in public.
“You think I’m crazy, huh?” Ian said with a sad chuckle.
“No” Mickey replied. He sighed and rolled his eyes but reached for Ian’s hands, and he intertwined their fingers, squeezing a little. “I think you like me.”
Ian huffed a laugh but kept looking anywhere except at Mickey, but squeezed back, loving the warmth he could feel emanating from Mickey. When he looked up to find a clue, anything that would confirm the feeling was mutual, Mickey surged forward and kissed him, pouring in the kiss everything he felt for Ian. Ian didn’t move and let Mickey take control of the kiss, hungry and desperate.
Ian detached their hands and placed them on Mickey’s hips, forcing Mickey to press his body against his. Mickey was once again trapped between the wall and Ian and he couldn’t help the moans that escaped his mouth as Ian broke the kiss to suck on his neck, nibbling at the white exposed skin. Mickey ran his hand through Ian’s hair and forced him to back away a little so he could whisper hotly in his ear.
“I like you too, Gallagher.”