Free at last. Mickey Milkovich had served six months, two weeks and five days in a juvenile detention centre for breaking parole and assaulting an officer. This would be his last stint in juvie. Next time the shit hit the fan, it’d be big boy prison for him.
He was… he wouldn’t say glad, but maybe a little relieved to be out. His own fucking fault that he’d gone in in the first place, but what can you do? Putting up with shit food and even shittier company was infinitely preferable when compared to the alternative. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Terry would’ve done had he found out that his youngest son liked to take it up the ass.
He shrugged off the prickle of anxiety he felt. It was over, done. Terry didn’t know, Frank had kept his mouth shut, and he could relax. Well, as much as he ever relaxed.
First thing he planned on doing was finding Gallagher. He’d probably never admit it out loud, but he had actually missed the redhead. It went without saying that he’d missed the sex; hell, he’d missed it the last time too. But after the Great State of Illinois’ latest attempt at bringing him to heel, he found he missed other things about Ian too. That sweet smile that lit up his whole face, the way he’d look at Mickey like he wasn’t a complete fuck up.
But Mickey would sooner go back to juvie than own up to that shit.
They lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, mouth against mouth and tongues against the inside of the other’s cheek. Ian ran his hand down Mickey’s bare chest and Mickey had his hands braced against Ian’s side, his smooth skin like velvet under his touch.
Ian’s finger hooked under the waist of Mickey’s boxers and the older boy put his hand to Ian’s chest, pushing him back a little. Ian gave him a confused look.
"What is it? What’s wrong?" he asked.
"Look, don’t make a big thing about this…" Mickey said.
"About what? What did you do?" Ian narrowed his eyes cautiously.
"Nothin’, not really. You’re gonna make it a bigger thing than it is," Mickey sighed a little and looked away from his eyes.
"You didn’t fucking shave again did you?" Ian asked with a grin and Mickey just rolled his eyes. "I won’t complain, I told you I thought it was hot."
"I didn’t shave you douchebag," Mickey griped.
"Then what? Why don’t you want me to get you out o your pants? You always seem to want that bit to happen faster,” he teased.
"Yeah, yeah," Mickey said, and then with a sigh he slowly pulled his boxers down to just below his hips, revealing a piece of gauze very awkwardly stuck down. "Like I said, don’t make it a thing…"
He pulled the gauze away to reveal a word tattooed into his skin, a short word, in the same print as the FUCK U-UP on his knuckles and Ian felt something inside him start to spin.
I A N
Ian lifted his fingers to touch Mickey’s hip, careful not to touch the words that were still a little red and angry under the black ink.
"What… what did you do?" Ian said again and Mickey’s heart sank a little, kind of expecting more of a reaction than that.
"I think you can see what I fucking did," he said defensively. "What? You don’t like it?"
Ian shook his head and lifted his eyes to look up at Mickey. “I never said that, it’s just a little surprising is all. Does it hurt?”
"I ain’t a baby," Mickey said and Ian’s fingertips brushed the tender spot. "So what you think?"
"I think I never expected to see my name written on any part of you," he said softly.
"Yeah well, just coz it’s there don’t mean any one else is gonna see it," Mickey said and Ian smiled.
"That’s fine by me," he replied. "And I like it, in case you were wondering," Mickey scoffed a little and Ian laughed. "What are you going to do if you and me don’t work out? You ever think of that?"
"No, and I ain’t gonna start," Mickey said. "Where the fuck do you come up with stupid shit like that anyway?"
Ian laughed, that must be Mickey’s way of saying that this wasn’t just a teenage fling. This was real and he was going to tell him… by tattooing his name on his skin.
"It’s always fucking been there anyway…" Mickey mumbled after a few moments of silence between them.
"You know what…" Mickey said, his hand cupping Ian’s face and pulling him in for a kiss.
"Maybe I should get your name tattooed on me," Ian murmured against Mickey’s lips. "Make it even."
"You should get it on your ass," Mickey grinned as his hand reached around to slap him and Ian laughed.
"I’d like to be able to see it too," he smiled.
"You know, this is kind of making it a big thing."
"You permanently carved my name into your body, give me five minutes to gloat would you?" Ian said.
Mickey shrugged, “Fine, but then we get to go back to the original plan for tonight,” He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Hey, no complaints from me."
mickey decides, and then he decides again.
part of ian always knew this was coming; it was like a train and ian was tied to the tracks.