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The Most Beautiful Disasters

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Mickey was nervous. Which was weird and really fucking stupid, because Mickey didn't do nervous. He never had done. He usually skipped nervous and went right to being angry, it was simpler and hell, it was definitely what was expected of him. But maybe that was the problem, Gallagher, Ian fucking Gallagher never seemed to expect anything from Mickey. He just wanted Mickey to be there, simple as, that was all. And that should have been perfect because Mickey was all for being minimal and not having to do a hell of a lot, but for some reason the fact Ian expected nothing made Mickey want to give him the world.

And Mickey never wanted to give anyone anything other than a black eye, so that was the part that freaked him the fuck out. And why wouldn't it? Honestly!

This time though, Mickey was nervous because he'd decided on something. And Mickey wasn't really one for decisions that weren't along the lines of, where shall I get fucked or get high today? But he was pretty proud of this decision. That wasn't the problem. The bit he was nervous about was how the hell he was going to make it work, because Mickey was going to have to ask and Mickey didn't think he knew how to ask questions. Especially not ones that were supposed to come out nicely.

Which was exactly why he was nervous, why he was pacing and why he thought for a second he might be sick. Although that last part could have been the funny tasting eggs Mandy had made him for breakfast.

Gallagher came into the house without bothering to knock because Mickey had texted him not long ago saying the house was empty. That was it. That was all he'd texted. House is empty. But Ian being Ian, knew immediately what the fuck Mickey meant by that. Hence the reason he let himself into the house and just waltzed into Mickey's room like he fucking owned the place. And maybe he did, because Mickey knew he'd give it to him if the redhead asked.

They'd done this before, it was practically second nature now. The sneaking around, the secrecy, that all came naturally to them because of where they'd grown up. And the other stuff, the stuff like how their bodies fit together and how they knew exactly where the boundaries were and how much they could push them, that had come a little bit later, probably around the third or fourth fuck, but now that came naturally too.

Mickey knew that if he bit Ian just under the jaw he'd spiral out of control, he knew that Ian loved the feel of Mickey's fingers running through his short hair. And in turn, Ian knew that if Mickey bit him, the ex-con really wanted Ian to bite him back and Ian knew that Mickey had a bit of a thing about his neck right where it met his collarbone. Mickey knew that Ian hated being treated like he was fragile and Ian knew that Mickey didn't actually mean a fucking word of it when he said he hated unnecessary touches.

"Hey," Ian breathed out, a wide grin practically splitting his face in two as he shut Mickey's bedroom door behind him. And Mickey hated how his body instantly seemed to relax the moment Gallagher stepped into the room. He hated it because Mickey didn't like thinking that he depended on anyone, especially not someone who was going to go and leave him. Even if it wasn't for the army, Gallagher was still going to leave him. Everyone always did. Hell, even Mickey's own mother hadn't wanted him.

Mickey didn't say anything in reply, he just reached for the other boy. He slipped his forefingers through Ian's belt loops and pulled the redhead jerkily towards him, relishing the surprised sound that Ian gasped out.

He moaned a minute later when Mickey kissed him, quickly, before Mickey had time to let himself back out. This was part of the plan. He'd start with a kiss, because they hadn't done that before, just like they hadn't done something else before. Mickey figured if he was going to do one first then he might as well get them all over and done with. At least within reason.

Ian tasted like chocolate and orange soda and something that was just so completely Ian that Mickey couldn't describe it. The redhead clawed at Mickey's shoulders, dragging his hands up to hold Mickey's face as the ex-con splayed his hands on the bottom of Ian's back, pressing them closer together. One of them moaned, Mickey thought it was probably him, but he couldn't be sure.

He pressed himself against Ian, backing the taller boy into the door he'd just shut and pulled his hands out from behind Ian's back so that he could push them up under his shirt and dig his fingers into the hard muscle of Ian's stomach. They only broke the kiss when Mickey pushed Ian's shirt up and yanked it over his head, throwing it into a corner of his room, which no doubt meant that it was probably never going to be found again. And normally Mickey would have been panicking about that, because it was evidence towards him not exactly being completely – at all – straight, but with Ian's flesh hot under his hands and the nervousness pounding through his system, Ian couldn't bring himself to care.

"Not that I'm complaining," Ian gasped out when Mickey trailed his tongue down his neck, swirling it over the pulse point and biting down briefly. Ian tasted like sweat, but he also tasted freakishly fucking sweet. Mickey could hardly stand it, but he craved more the moment his tongue left Ian's skin. "But what's the occasion?"

Mickey flexed his fingers on Ian's hips, keeping them flush together as he raised his head a little bit, but not a lot. Just enough so that he could talk, but when he did, his lips still skimmed Ian's collarbone. "I want to top today," he said, pulling a bit of a face at how that came out, because he could have definitely phrased that better. But he didn't know how to be polite and he didn't know how to ask questions, but Mickey figured he was already in over his head anyway, so this shouldn't be too much of a problem. But it still was.

He felt Ian tense underneath his hands and he considered just ploughing on, but there was that stupid twist in his gut that kept telling him that he'd rather claw out his own eyeballs than hurt Ian and he hated that his gut was right. He pulled back a little and looked up at Ian through his lashes that he knew the redhead loved even though he'd never said so.

"Can I?" he asked, knowing the words sounded gruff, but they were softer than they normally would have been. And that was him asking for something when he'd never asked for anything before. Gallagher knew that, he could see that Ian understood the seriousness of Mickey asking a question like that because his eyes softened and he reached out and touched Mickey's face gently, the touch something close to a caress, but Mickey didn't want to acknowledge that even if he may or may not have leant into that touch.

"I've never done it before," Ian mumbled, a blush creeping along his cheekbones and it was actually pretty fucking hot even if it did contrast horribly with his hair, "I only ever top."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Mickey leant in and nosed along Ian's jaw, biting down just underneath it. Ian moaned. "I know," Mickey said, his voice low and fucking needy sounding. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't very well take the words back.

They fell onto the bed in a weird tangle of limbs and Mickey bit down on the tendon in Ian's neck as he fumbled with his belt. Not really parting all that much Ian shoved his own pants down and Mickey did the same, his belt clattering as it fell off the bed onto the floor.

Ian thrust up against him, their cocks sliding against each other and friction causing Mickey's eyes to cross and he pressed his face into the crook of Ian's neck because he knew that his expression was incredibly fucking stupid. He licked a line across Ian's skin and felt Ian shudder underneath him.

He thought it should have been awkward when he looked down at Ian, propping himself up on his elbows and frowning ever so slightly when he stared at the redhead. But it wasn't. He couldn't explain why. It just wasn't. He wouldn't admit it, but he was panicking a little bit, because Ian may not have done this before, but Mickey hadn't either. He'd only ever bottomed; and fucking the one girl he had just to see if he liked it hadn't counted at all. Especially since he definitely hadn't liked it.

Ian reached up and touched his face again and Mickey didn't know when the redhead had reached for the lube that was in Mickey's nightstand, but suddenly it was being pressed into his palm. He kept on staring at Ian as he lifted off to crawl down Ian's body. He looked up at Ian through his lashes as he sucked briefly on the head of his cock, blowing on it briefly and making Ian's hips thrust up in a way that was completely involuntary. Mickey slicked up his fingers and guided Ian's cock back into his mouth as he eased the first fingertip inside.

He didn't insult Ian by asking if he was ready, because he knew from the way that he was gripping Mickey's biceps that he just wanted Mickey to get this show on the road. And normally, under any other circumstances, if it had been anyone else, Mickey would have just got on with it. But he couldn't do that with Ian. He couldn't bring himself to. And he hated knowing that.

Ian's back arched up off the bed when Mickey slipped another finger into him and a low moan escaped out of his lips and Mickey thought that that was pretty fucking hot. He wanted to make him do it again. So he twisted his fingers and crooked them slightly, hitting the spot that practically made Gallagher scream.

Mickey smiled around the cock in his mouth, sucking it right down to the base at the same time as he went for Ian's prostate again. He thought that this was probably about as close to being in heaven as he was ever going to get, which was stupid because he wasn't even touching his own dick.

Letting out a choked sort of noise, Ian pushed his fingers into Mickey's hair and tugged, pulling Mickey up his body and kissing him. And it was because it was Ian who was controlling the kiss that it was gentler, more controlled. It was practically sweet and Mickey let it be like that because he thought for a moment that just this once he'd let himself go.

He pulled his fingers out of Ian and lifted the redhead's legs, pushing them up and out so that Ian was open to him like some sort of fucking flower. He almost smiled at the sight of Ian thrown back against his pillow, his red hair sticking to his forehead and his expression worried and dazed, his eyes trusting. Mickey had never had anyone trust him before Ian, he didn't know how he felt about it. He supposed he liked it.

He grabbed the condom off of his nightstand and rolled it on, slicking himself up and then recapping the lube and tossing it back into his drawer. He pressed his forehead against Ian's as he slowly pushed himself in and he stopped almost immediately, not for Ian, but because he had to fight not to come straight away. He had to drag together whatever control he has remaining, because fuck that was tight.

Ian fidgeted a little under him, pulling Mickey into his body a little further and Mickey got the message and slowly started to press forwards more. Ian tilted his face up and caught Mickey's mouth in a kiss that was distractingly gentle. His hands traced patterns down Mickey's spine and across his back as Mickey pushed himself all the way in and just stayed there. He just froze, panting against Ian's mouth and shivering.

Ian pulled his hands out from around Mickey and framed the ex-con's face with them, long fingers stroking into his hair and calming him down better than anything else could. He supposed Ian could hear how frantically his heart was beating against his chest.

When Mickey finally started to move, it was the slowest he'd ever done something, because they didn't need to go fast. Mickey thought he'd spiral out of complete control, that he'd fall apart at the seams if he went fast. So he kept it as nothing more than a slow slide; and he blamed Gallagher for making it into something other than fucking. He blamed him for pressing soft kisses against Mickey's mouth, for holding them close together and for gasping out his moans in a way that made Mickey want to make him do it again and again and to make it the only thing that he had ever heard.

He held Ian like he was breakable and in return Ian did the same. He practically cradled Mickey with his body, drew him in and marked him in a way that wasn't visible, but Mickey could feel it. He could feel it burrowed deep underneath his skin, like he had Gallagher's name fucking tattooed on his heart now or something. But right then, in that moment, Mickey didn't care. He couldn't think past the gentle kisses, the heat that the body underneath him radiated and how tight Ian was. It felt like he was sucking everything out of Mickey, except Mickey was actually giving it willingly. He was handing it over on a fucking silver platter.

"Mickey," Ian whispered his name so reverently, like Mickey was precious or something and that was what sent him over the edge. Because he'd never had anyone talk to him like that. He'd never had anyone put that much care into saying his name. And he never wanted anyone else to ever again either, he wanted to keep that whisper a secret. He wanted he make the way Gallagher said his name, hell he wanted to make Gallagher, so completely private that nothing could ever touch him.

Mickey came like it was a surprise, like it had crept up on him. And maybe it had done. He gasped out his moan into Ian's mouth, pressing so completely against the younger boy that he didn't know where one of them ended and the other began. He didn't care either. Especially not when Ian's fingers dug into his scalp and his ass clenched around Mickey's cock and Ian toppled over that edge, his breath nothing more than a murmur against Mickey's mouth. Heat spurted up in between them and Mickey felt like it was burning into his soul, filling him up in a way that shouldn't be at all possible.

And yet it was.

"We need to do that more often," Ian said in a breathy laugh a few minutes later, when they'd stopped panting, but were both still in exactly the same position.

Mickey laughed low in his throat and propped himself up on his arms to look down at Ian. Their faces were close together and Ian looked so fucking content that they were definitely having a moment. And moments were intimate and sticky and complicated and normally Mickey ran from them, but he was too fucking exhausted to go anywhere. He couldn't even think straight.

"Maybe we do," he replied, letting himself smile and knowing that it was maybe the first real smile that he had ever given anyone. He wished he could convince himself that it was going to be the last, but he knew that that would be a lie. "But it sure won't be for a while."

Because Mickey didn't know if he could handle feeling all that too often. He didn't know if he could cope with seeing the obvious, "I love you" in Ian's eyes when he looked down. And he definitely knew he couldn't cope with knowing that there was an 'I love you too' written all over his own face. No, Mickey couldn't handle that, he didn't know how to handle that.

But then he hadn't known how to handle asking questions until not long ago, so he supposed things weren't completely hopeless after all.