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“He’s not afraid to kiss me.”
The words surprised him, definitely not what Mickey had expected to hear. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting hear much of anything when he’d agreed to help Ian train—he wanted to help the red-head succeed, not that he would admit it. Still, sitting there, firing the gun, Mickey hadn’t expected the conversation to turn to Lloyd. Even less predicted was the comment on kissing.
Mickey wasn’t afraid of kissing. Sure, it wasn’t like he did it a lot, or at all, at the moment, but he wasn’t afraid of it. He wasn’t really sure why Ian had said it, either. They’d been hanging out a lot more since the incident with Lloyd and slowly but surely, the younger seemed to be forgetting the “warm mouth” comment. Mickey so wanted him to forget the words had ever been uttered—he’d regretted them soon after speaking them but they weren’t something he could so easily take back. That much was evident.
Clearly, the words still rung within the other’s memory as well, if the comment had been meant as a reminder. Mickey hadn’t not kissed Ian because the boy wasn’t important, though. He just hadn’t really thought about it. They weren’t a couple—they were just a thing. An easy thing. He wasn’t really sure what it was, but they weren’t dating or anything, so it wasn’t like they had to kiss.
Apparently, Firecrotch wanted to kiss.
Mickey could do that. Probably. He thought about it as he agreed to rob the fucking geezer’s house.
_____
While he’d been thinking about it since Gallagher had spoken the words, it wasn’t until the boy told him to put the guns away and Mickey had so easily complied that he’d actually thought of taking the chance. His cousins were already running towards the building, Mickey following, before the thought struck him.
He could do it. No one would see at this point, so they’d be safe.
With that thought in his head, he raced back down the path and through the open door of the van. Not given Ian even a second to look up, Mickey pressed his lips quickly against Ian’s, his hand pressing against the head of the seat to support him as he did so. It was quick, almost too quick for even Mickey, and then he was racing back towards the house, leaving his red-head to stare after him.
That’s right, Mickey thought. I’m not afraid to kiss you either, Firecrotch.