Take A Bullet For You

A Gallavich FanFiction

Mickey was making a habit out of getting shot for Ian


Having been unsuccessful in the first few attempts, Ian finally managed to sneak out of the Home and headed straight for the Milkovich's.

He wasn't sure what reception he would get – this wasn't the first time Mickey had been shot because of him, and it wasn't like Ian had the only cock in the city.

Not wanting to explain his presence to Mandy, Ian snuck in through Mickey's window. It felt strange to be doing it that way round.

The noise of him clambering over the chest of drawers was enough to rouse Mickey. Ian watched him as he came to; lying in a position that reminded Ian of their first time, nearly two years ago. The sight would have turned him on if not for the bandages on Mickey's exposed arse.

Ian tugged the blanket up to cover his favourite Milkovich, then sat on the floor by the head of the bed so Mickey didn't have to move to see him.

"What the fuck you doin' here?" Mickey asked, spaced out on painkillers – he must have been cold because he wasn't complaining about the blanket.

"I was worried about you. How are you doing?"

"How do you think, dipshit?" Mickey responded, shifting enough to remove his arm from beneath him and whack Ian around the head.

"I'm fed up of getting shot for you."

And there it was. Ian sighed; this is what he had been expecting, but it still hurt to hear it.

Mickey trailed his fingers down to find Ian's hand and held it. Ian's eyebrows shot up in surprise but Mickey was too out of it to notice.

"Time you did something for me Firecrotch," Mickey muttered.

Ian looked down, he could get used to the feel of Mickey's hand in his. "Like what?" He asked.

"Stop fucking other people," Mickey was nodding off again now.

Ian smirked, "Is Mickey Milkovich asking me to be exclusive?!"

"I am."

It was nothing more than a murmur, slurred with sleep, but there was no mistaking what Mickey had said.

Ian clasped Mickey's hand tighter, "What about Angie?" He whispered; almost afraid to speak.

"Couldn't do it…" the painkillers were taking hold again and Ian knew he had mere seconds before he lost Mickey to sleep.

"No?" His voice still nothing more than a whisper.

"Wasn't you…always you…" And as Mickey fell asleep holding his hand, Ian grinned wider than he had ever done –

Mickey Milkovich might just love him after all.