Nobody Does It Better
A Gallavich FanFiction
"There are plenty of other warm mouths out there"… "Yeah? Well I want yours."
Mickey is surprised at how upset he is when he gets out of Juvie for the second time and Ian isn't there to meet him. Ignoring the gnawing feeling in his belly, he focuses on insulting Mandy and then getting the hell out of there. He wants to ask where Gallagher is, but he doesn't.
The house hasn't changed; there are still guns littered on the table and the stale smoke of weed in the air. If Terry is in it is not obvious and Mickey isn't about to ask. Instead he steps into his room, peels his clothes from his body and then steps through to the shower.
He tells himself it is because the stench on the cells still lingers on him; because he has had too many boys on his cock the last few months that he can't remember what it is like to feel clean.
It is not because he's about to go on a hunt for Ian and is making an effort or anything. He wouldn't be looking for him at all if he wasn't desperate to play bottom again – and Firecrotch just happened to be the best top he knew. Hell, he is getting hard just thinking about it.
He rubs one out under the steady stream falling from his chest. He tries to focus his memory on when Ian would pound into him until he was nearly blacking out and boneless. He curses against the tiles when he realises that what is making him come is the memory of Ian's face the first time he was in Juvie; the smirk he gave him through the glass. That shit-eating grin. That warm mouth.
When he steps out of the shower he feels dirtier than before he went in – because now the face in his head is welling with tears and Mickey really doesn't want to remember that.
He dresses without drying properly and doesn't bother with underwear – Ian will have forgiven him and he doesn't need the extra layers getting in the way. Let's be honest, if it wouldn't cause such a commotion, Mickey would run butt naked to find Gallagher if it saved one minute of waiting.
He is hard again at just the thought but isn't going to take care of it himself – Firecrotch will be worth the wait.
He considers heading for the Gallagher house but, upon checking the time, walks the couple of blocks to the sports field. ROTC will be finished by now and he figures Ian will be making the most of the daylight and still working out.
He hears them before he sees them – some kid yelling expletives and army innuendos. And then there it is: Gallagher's low voice giving orders to shut the fuck up.
As the sound vibrates straight to Mickey's groin, he simultaneously feels the gnawing return to his stomach; Ian hadn't waited for him.
And okay, it wasn't like he deserved it, or even that Mickey himself had been celibate throughout his incarceration, but with the sound of Gallagher's voice he realised he had wanted it.
The fucking faggot he was becoming.
Spitting his feelings out onto the ground, he readjusts his Milkovich persona and pulls himself through on the bars.
"Lookie what we've got here!" He is avoiding Ian's eyes; the hitch in his heart when Gallagher says "Mickey?" He funnels his energy into beating up the fat prick who had touched his Ian.
"You having some kinda queerbo sex under here?"
The guy whines beneath him but he doesn't let up until he feels Ian's eyes bore into the side of his head.
"Get outta here," He gestures to the kid with a kick and then turns to look at Gallagher for the first time.
And Holy Fuck is the guy beautiful. He is also, annoyingly, dressed again. Mickey runs his tongue over his teeth involuntarily.
"You got any fuck left in you, or did you dump it all in that faggot's ass?" Even Mickey has to acknowledge it is not the most romantic proposition ever.
Ian looks him straight in the eye and, just when Mickey thinks he has been forgiven, Gallagher drops his gaze.
"Not interested," Ian says simply, grabbing his bag and beginning to walk away.
"What the fuck, Gallagher?"
"There are plenty of other warm mouths out there." Ian doesn't even turn around as he says it; just keeps walking.
"Yeah? Well I want yours." Mickey's voice is wavering and he knows it. Ian stops in his tracks but Mickey won't look at him; his eyes focusing on their shadows instead.
Ian steps back over to him and leans into Mickey's space. The brunette looks up and wishes he hadn't; Ian's eyes stare at him but are empty, devoid of all emotion.
"Tough shit." Ian concludes, then proceeds to push past him, leaving Mickey with the feeling he had been punched in the gut.
"Fuck," Mickey mouths, kicking one of the bars. He momentarily wonders if he should find someone else to fuck, but is unable to knowing that that what he told Gallagher was true. It is Ian or nothing.
Mickey is lying on his bed when someone comes to the front door. He continues to lift a weight with his right hand as it lies parallel to the mattress. Whoever it is, they haven't come for him. Even his Dad hasn't bothered to come home and congratulate Mickey on his parole – as usual Mandy is the only one who gives a shit.
Luckily for Mickey she is in and therefore answers the knock. The sound of her squealing leaving Mickey with no doubt as to who it is - his heart jumps at the thought and he curses it.
Determined not to move, not to throw Ian up against a wall (whether to fight him or fuck him, Mickey is unsure), he continues to stare blankly at the ceiling. He wants to play music to block out the sound of Ian and Mandy but fears, should he stand up, just where his feet will take him.
He reminds himself that it is not like he gives a damn. That his good behaviour on the inside had nothing to do with getting released early; nothing to do with who he wanted to get out for.
Fucking Gallagher and his fucking fabulous cock.
And if the above is an overly gay thought then Mickey sure as hell isn't acknowledging it.
The couple outside have been quiet for a while now, and Mickey figures they have moved into the living room or some shit. He is just debating whether he can get away by jumping out of the window when the door handle turns and Ian steps into the room.
There is a momentary silence, and it is deafening.
"What the fuck you doin' in here?" Mickey asks. He has dropped the weight and sat up but he doesn't remember doing so.
"Told Mandy I needed a piss." Ian is staring at him and Mickey wishes he would look anywhere else.
"Jesus Gallagher!" He exclaims, realising that Ian's eyes are beginning to well with tears as he still stands in the open doorway.
Mickey leaps off the bed and pulls Ian into the room. His eyes sweep the corridor swiftly before closing the door and turning back to face the redhead.
Gallagher seems to have gained control of himself – thank fuck – as the tears are not actually falling. But for that split second Mickey hates himself.
Ian leans forward, one hand on the door behind Mickey so that Milkovich couldn't move if he wanted to. The cocky confidence Ian had earlier seems to have left him, for his voice is shaking when he speaks.
"You broke my fucking heart."
It is little more than a whisper, but Ian has no fear Mickey hasn't heard him when the smaller boy tries to push him away.
Ian doesn't let Mickey speak, clamping his hand over Mickey's mouth and shoving him harder into the door.
"I didn't mean to fall for you, but it turns out you're fucking irresistible Mickey – for an asshole." Neither boy is looking at each other, but the places where their bodies are touching are communicating all by themselves.
"You should have just kept it to fucking Mick – no conversations, no getting to know you bullshit. Because however you fucking feel, it was a relationship for me."
Mickey grabs Ian's hand and pulls it away from where it covers his mouth. It is a violent move and it hurts Ian's wrist but neither of them comment.
When Mickey speaks his voice is low and hollow.
"You think you're the only one that noticed – this?" He points between the two of them, then finally looks Ian in the eye. "Damn you if you think a fuck is all we were."
Then Ian is grabbing the front of Mickey's trousers and pulling the boy towards him. And just when Mickey thinks he might have said something right for the first time in his fucking life, Mandy tries the door.
They spring apart in time for her to walk in and Mickey has never wanted to punch her so damn much.
"I thought you must have fallen in," She says to Ian, scowling in Mickey's direction. He hopes she doesn't notice the uncharacteristic blush creeping up Mickey's face but, as in most circumstances, Mandy is oblivious.
She drags Ian from the room and Mickey doesn't even watch him go.
Surveying the ceiling isn't nearly as distracting this time round. The weight Mickey attempted to lift has fallen to the ground with no effort to pick it back up.
He broke Gallagher's heart.
The words float around in his brain, every now and then sending sparks down to the pit of his stomach where the emotion he will not name starts to unfurl and claw at his insides.
Mickey fears that the motivation behind his sudden rising has less to do with sex and more to do with the boy attached to it. He is through the door before he can change his mind.
They are watching some crappy made for TV movie; Mandy is curled up in Ian's lap, absentmindedly running her hand up and down his trouser-leg. The fact Ian seems unaware does nothing to quell Mickey's jealousy.
If he were capable of such feeling that is.
Mickey sits down on the couch, violently shoving Ian over; a process that throws Mandy to the floor. Ian isn't looking at him so Mickey doesn't hide his smirk.
"You fuckface!" His sister exclaims, getting up from the floor and proceeding to thwack Mickey round the head.
"Oi bitch, cut it out!"
"Asshole," Mandy responds. Ian knows the siblings well enough to translate that this is actually a form of affection. He still isn't looking at Mickey.
"Get me a beer," the older Milkovich demands in Mandy's direction, setting his feet up on the coffee table.
"Get it yourself," She snaps in return.
"Jesus Mandy! I'm just out of Juvie – would it kill you to get me a fucking beer?!" Mickey is getting agitated and wishes he could hide it better.
Before Mandy can retort, Ian steps in, beginning to push himself up from the sofa, "I'll get it."
"Like hell you will," Mandy says, shoving him back down and retreating in the direction of the kitchen. "Play nice," she throws over her shoulder at the boys.
Having assured himself that she is out of earshot, Mickey pulls Ian's bicep towards him and hisses in the redhead's ear before he can stop him.
"I'm not saying I lo- I mean, if I had a fucking heart and could actually give a shit…" He stops to bite on his lip. Ian just stares at him, those green-blue eyes open and ready for whatever Mickey could find the courage to say.
"Oh fuck it," Mickey gives in, grabbing Ian's head with his free hand and pulling him closer, planting a ferocious kiss on Gallagher's lips. It is nothing more than skin on skin, but the monster in the pit of Mickey's stomach awakens fully with a growl.
Ian is all for deepening the kiss when Mandy and her impeccable timing emerge from the kitchen and Mickey breaks away with a sound like a smack.
Grabbing the beer off his sister, Mickey heads back to his room. "Later faggots," He burps, winking at Ian.
He really hopes he hasn't imagined the smirk on Gallagher's lips.
Mickey has been asleep longer than he thought when he is woken by stones being gently thrown against his window.
He is off the bed and yanking it open faster than should have been physically possible, for on the other side – grin as wide as the universe – is Ian.
Mickey lowers one arm out of the window and pulls Gallagher up and through the frame, cursing when they tumble over the chest of drawers under the sill.
Mickey falls to the floor, trapped beneath Ian in a position that is hardly comfortable, but all is forgotten when Gallagher lowers his lips to Mickey's.
They have hardly touched when Mickey throws Ian off him.
"What the hell was that Firecrotch?"
Ian laughs and rolls back on top of Mickey, "You started it," He teases; breath ghosting over Mickey's mouth again.
"For fucks sake Gallagher, I was making fucking point – you don't have to get all lip friendly now!" But the annoyance in Mickey's voice doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"So stop me," Ian laughs again, moving closer to Mickey's lips with his own. He pauses, however, hovering in the air above the smaller boy; after all they have been through, Ian honestly doesn't want to push this too far in case Mickey runs.
He doesn't want to give Mickey an excuse to hurt him again.
The decision is swept away from him when Mickey arches up and clasps Ian's lips within his own. And he knows he should kiss Ian the same way they fuck or they fight – with brute force and blood and limbs – but instead it is tantalisingly slow; a delicate slide of lips on lips, the brushing of tongues on teeth.
Mickey's hands are still down by his sides and Ian's palms press to the floor next to Mickey's head so the only place they touch is where their mouths meet and where Ian's groin presses down deliciously on Mickey's hip.
And Mickey wants to get mad at himself by how okay he is with this – by the fact they are touching without fucking; that they are communicating without speaking – but all coherent thought is pushed aside as Ian moans against his lips.
This is quite possibly the hottest fucking thing they have ever done, and if that sounds a little gay then maybe that is alright with Mickey, just this once.
Because Gallagher has taken him back, and at the end of the day, there is no one who loves him better.