Mickey yawned as he grabbed some of the beers from the cooler. He'd been out of Juvie for a couple of weeks and Linda had given him his old job back. He and Ian even had a couple of shifts together. Not that that mattered. They weren't talking. It wasn't a big deal or anything. They just hadn't talked. Or fucked. Or anything. It was weird. But whatever, it wasn't like Mickey was being a pussy about it and thinking about his dick every time Ian was around. He wasn't. It was just different working at Kash and Grab without having break time blowies.
Mickey's head snapped up when heard the door's bell ring and decided that Ian could handle it. Besides, he was dying for a smoke. He lit up and headed out back, when something made him stop.
"You haven't answered my calls," Mickey heard a random guy say. He couldn't put his finger on it but something didn't feel right.
Mickey heard Ian cough and use that all too casual tone that Mickey knew was fake. "I've been busy."
"For two whole weeks?" The voice asked.
"Yeah." Ian stated bluntly. Mickey could hear the cash register opening and realised that Ian was trying to look busy.
"You got time now? I hear that store fucking is all the rage," the other guy said and suddenly Mickey took an immediate disliking. Who the fuck was this guy anyway?
"Look Lloyd, I've been thinking. You're Jimmy's dad and I he's dating my sister and I don't think we-" Mickey narrowed his eyes when Ian stopped talking and peered his head around the back door. He saw some fucking old guy pinning Ian against the wall and something inside him boiled up. He clenched and unclenched his hands before running his thumb across his bottom lip and striding into the room.
"You want to get your hands off him before you lose them?" He said in a low, but eerily steady voice.
"Er...Mickey," he saw Ian flinch a bit but ignored the ginger teen.
The old guy, Lloyd, turned around and finally saw Mickey standing there, but didn't remove his hands. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"No." Mickey said without clarifying who he was.
Lloyd gives him a sickly sweet smile. "Look, Mickey, was it? This is a private discussion between Ian and me so it's not really any of your business."
"I'm making it my business." Mickey sneered. "Now are you going to get your hands off him or am I gonna have to break both your wrists?" Mickey walked forward until he was almost a foot away from the guy and Ian. He may have been short, but people intuitively knew not to fuck with him.
The guy gave Ian one final look that said, 'whatever, your loss', before heading back out of the door.
Ian looked at Mickey wide-eyed. Mickey Milkovich had come to his defence. That was definitely new. He wanted to say something, but before he could, Mickey nodded his head and headed into the cooler again. Ian paused to think for a few moments before he decided to follow him and leant against the cooler door. He watched as Mickey stacked the beers.
He didn't know Mickey had spotted him until the other boy grunted. "You just gonna stand there, or you gonna give me a hand?"
Ian smiled softly and grabbed the case by Mickey's feet. "Thanks," he almost whispered.
Ian watched Mickey roll his eyes. "Whatever."
Ian shuffled on his feet, case in hand. "And...I...er...I know I didn't say it before, but...I'm glad you're back. I was just...you know...still a little mad...but that-"
"I said, whatever!" Mickey scratched the back of his neck as if he was uncomfortable.
Ian didn't know what made him do it. Maybe it was because Mickey actually helped him for once, or the fact that he hadn't had any in two weeks, but he swiftly leant forward and managed to kiss the side of Mickey's mouth before the other boy hand even known what had happened. Mickey looked up suddenly and gave Ian a look that clearly displayed that he thought that Ian had completely flipped. Maybe he had. After all, kissing Mickey Milkovich was as close to a death wish as you could get.
The next thing Ian knew was that he was being shoved into the wall. Instinctively, Ian screwed his eyes and waited for the punch.
"Open your fucking eyes, Moron." Mickey's voice was anything but angry. "I'm not gonna hit you."
"You're not?" Ian asked in disbelief. "Don't you want to cut my tongue out?"
Mickey rolled his eyes again and leant into Ian. Ian couldn't be a hundred percent certain but he was pretty sure Mickey's hard-on was pressing against his thigh. "And go back to Juvie? No thanks. Besides, I don't hit the guys I'm fucking. Kinda a rule of mine."
"Oh how thoughtful," Ian said sarcastically. Mickey did have a track record when it came to violence. Ian shifted a little and he felt Mickey take a sharp breath. "Wait, fucking? As in present tense? So can I kiss you properly without wondering if you are going to kill me in my sleep?" he teased.
Mickey growled into his ear threateningly. "Don't push your luck Gallagher."
Ian lowered his head so that his lips were just a breath away from Mickey's. "So stop me." Just when Ian thought Mickey's going to let him, the young offender pulled away. Ian gulped and looked at the floor, trying to hide his disappointment as Mickey walked away.
But Mickey called over his shoulder. "I'll lock the back door. You lock the front. Can't have fucking Frank walking in again. We good?"
Ian crossed his arms over his chest and couldn't help but say, "I here I was thinking I was just a warm mouth." Ian wanted to punch himself. He couldn't believe he let that slip out.
Mickey turned back and Ian hoped he was hiding his emotions well enough. Wordlessly, the Milkovich boy grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard.
As soon as the second past, Mickey shoved him away. "Now go close the fucking door so you can get on me."
Ian was sure his lips were going to be stinging for a while, but he couldn't give a damn at that moment.
He walked to the front of the store, cheeks aching from grinning too hard.