Afraid to Kiss
Summary: "He isn't afraid to kiss me." And in that instant everything changed, because Ian wasn't supposed to bring up shit like that. Ian/Mickey gay slash drabble; set during Season 3 Episode 5
Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.
I'm still not okay because of that kiss. I don't think I will ever be okay again. I wrote this to cope with my feelings.
The last fanfiction I wrote for you guys was out of frustration that they never kiss, and now this one was written out of frustration that they did kiss. I am just a ball of contradictory emotions okay.
I tried to write in a vulgar and non-grammatical way. It was on purpose to sort of fit the mood of the show. I really hope I did a good job and that I did this pairing justice. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!
"He isn't afraid to kiss me."
And in that instant everything changed, because Ian wasn't supposed to bring up shit like that. He'd broken one of Mickey's rules: not to talk about kissing. Because kissing meant feelings.
But Ian was talking about kissing someone else, and fuck, if that didn't just piss Mickey off.
Mickey wasn't one of those pussies into romance and shit. He'd only started fucking Ian Gallagher for a little fun. He always thought that, in the end, he'd be in some prison cell under a life sentence, dying alone. And until now, he'd been fine with that.
But one day, before Mickey could do jack shit to stop it, his fool-proof plan to only have a little fun suddenly backfired, spinning out of his control. Somehow everything got fucked and turned around on its ass, and all Mickey knows is it's all Ian fucking Gallagher's fault.
But maybe it wasn't so sudden, because this has been building inside of him ever since day fucking one. And he knew that it would break him sooner or later, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself.
Because Ian was completely right. Mickey was afraid to kiss him. He was full of fear all the time, because he knew he was fucked if his dad or his brothers ever found out that he was a faggot. And kissing was where 'just having fun' crossed into something more, something he couldn't get away from.
Mickey felt like an idiot, because lately he'd gotten too fucking careless. He let Ian fuck him in broad daylight under the bleachers. He stopped looking behind his back every fucking time they were together. He followed Ian to that gay club and beat up that piece of shit old man that was with him.
Mickey always had a lot of anger inside him. He was always ready to explode. But it was nothing compared to this.
Because imagining that old geezer kissing his Gallagher was enough to burn Mickey up inside. Because, to Mickey, kissing meant feelings.
He wanted Ian. And he wanted everyone else to keep their fucking hands off him. And he just felt so angry and jumbled up with emotions that the buildup was about to burst from his chest like vomit.
And then it all just flew out the fucking window when suddenly Mickey couldn't stop himself from running back to the car and lips were on lips. Because the rage had finally bubbled over and he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to keep him, to claim him.
And it was just like Mickey to confuse anger with love.
The kiss was short and sweet and soft and it came out of nowhere. Ian tasted like tobacco, and everything about the simple touch of mouths just made something that was tense inside of Mickey relax.
It would've been a shit-faced lie to say that Mickey didn't want more.
He ran back to the house, trying to hide the stupid look on his face. In a final act of defiance, he flipped Ian off, smiling like the lovesick fucking teenager he promised himself he'd never be.