Work Text:
Yep, Mickey was definitely trapped.
Ian stood in front of the door, looking at him way too expectantly for Mickey's liking. Ian's words ran through his head: Why do you always push me away when I try to kiss you? Mickey just stood there dumbly, growing hot under Ian's relentless stare, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t meeting Ian’s eye, just waiting for Ian to give up on getting an answer from him and leave the room in frustration like he usually did. Mickey knew he would get over it eventually. But after a very uncomfortable minute Mickey glanced up to see Ian still standing there staring at him, waiting. The gears in Mickey's head were turning quickly, thinking of all of the possible ways he could escape without answering Ian. Besides jumping out the window and looking like a complete fucking idiot, he had nothing.
Finally, annoyed and uncomfortable, he said, “I don't know, Ian. I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He walked forward towards Ian, towards the door, hoping he looked angry enough to get Ian to back off, but when his eyes were a few inches away from Ian's chin he was forced to stop unless he wanted to walk smack into him.
“Well I want to talk about this, Mickey.” Mickey made brief eye contact with Ian before looking at the wall, uncomfortable and starting to get irritated.
“Ian, come on, man, just drop it alright?.” It was a silent second and then,
“You know what? Fine. I don't know what you thought this was,” Ian gestured between him and Mickey, “but apparently it's not what I thought it was. So whatever this is I'm fucking done with it.” Ian had turned and was opening the door and Mickey was standing still, stunned. He didn't know what him and Ian were but whatever it was he didn't want it to be over.
“Ian, wait, come on.” Mickey’s hand was around Ian's wrist, something both of them weren’t expecting, and Ian stopped where he was in the hall. He didn't turn around, didn't say a word. Mickey was struggling to come up with words himself, they'd never been his strong suit. It's not like he didn't want to kiss Ian whenever the redhead tried to get him to, he was just being “a fucking pussy,” as Mandy would've called it. He was scared. Scared of kissing, scared of Ian, and scared of change. And he fucking hated it.
“Turn around, will ya?” His voice was softer than he wanted it to be, more vulnerable. Ian obeyed but was giving him that same expectant look from before that had Mickey's insides quivering.
Mickey looked around the hall. It was empty, but he could hear Ian's family downstairs. Upstairs it was just them. And Mickey had always been better at expressing himself through actions.
He found himself looking at Ian with a sort of hunger, his chest, his jaw, those lips. He met Ian's eyes, and they were less angry, but definitely irritated. He was almost smirking, and he was studying Mickey. Mickey tried not to think of Ian’s smirk and his eyes and him almost walking away before dropping his eyes to Ian's lips again and leaning in. His heart was racing fastfast fast , but not faster than the thoughts running through his head. He hadn't had much experience kissing, what if he was bad? What if his mouth tasted gross? What if Ian rejected him after all this?
He'd probably deserve it, anyway.
Despite his heartbeat and his mind he opened his mouth slightly and closed his eyes.
There was no going back. Their lips met softly and slowly in reality, but it seemed sudden to Mickey, who was still worrying about how Ian would react.
But Ian's mouth was open too, and warm and soft and- their lips closed around each other for a second, then- wet . Ian's tongue was in his mouth and it felt good , way better than Mickey thought a tongue in his mouth would feel, especially when Ian's hand made its way to the back of Mickey’s neck, his fingers pushing into his hair.
And Ian pushed further, deepening the kiss; Mickey felt something rise in his stomach. He was hot and his eyes were closed, and Ian's body was pushing against him, backing him up into the wall. Mickey made a sound, a small groan, very accidentally, when his back hit the wall and Ian's whole body lined up with his own. He felt Ian smirk against his mouth before Ian bit his lower lip, not too hard, but not softly either, and Mickey felt some of his blood start to flow downwards.
Then Ian pulled away and Mickey opened his eyes slow, blinking fast, to see a smiling Ian breathing just as hard as Mickey was, one eyebrow quirked up.
“That was hot, Mick,” he said with a grin.
“Yeah, no shit,” Mickey laughed.
They stared at each other for a minute, Mickey looking up slightly to meet Ian's eyes. Then that look Ian was giving him was too much and he looked down at the floor; what Ian had said before he’d tried to walk out earlier was still on Mickey’s mind.
“So, you're uh.. not.. done with whatever this is right?” He couldn't look at Ian when he asked it, but looking at the floor felt weird, too. He chanced a glance up, and Ian was giving him a weird look that he couldn’t decipher, something that happened quite often. Then Ian smiled a genuine smile and Mickey knew he was happy. Ian looked so good wearing that smile on his face that Mickey couldn’t help but smile a little, too, and his stomach jumped again, for a different reason than before.
“No, Mick, I’m not done. I like ..whatever this is.”
“Yeah, me too.”