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“Bullshit!”
“Huh? Hmm? What?”
The low, hissing voice from near Ian had him jerking out of his sleepy reverie on the train. He swiped at his mouth in case he was drooling and looked out of the grimy window, only to find he was just three stops into his journey home. His focus settled on the guy opposite him who was glaring down at the screen of his cell phone. He was about Ian’s age, maybe a little older. His hair was short on the sides and longer on top with bangs falling across his forehead and he had startling blue eyes. Ian sat up a little straighter in his seat because, well, hello handsome stranger.
The carriage was empty apart from one other person. Dolly the homeless old broad (her proud description, not Ian’s) was asleep next to the heater at the other end of the train.
Ian’s blurted response made the guy flick his eyes up and settle on him. Ian smiled disarmingly and the scowl on the man’s face softened slightly.
“You good?” Ian tilted his head and stifled another yawn.
“Yup.”
Ian nodded once at the abrupt answer and tore his eyes away from the gorgeous man, leaning his temple against the window and closing his eyes. It was a lonely ride home to his apartment on the outskirts of the South Side at six in the morning. Rush hour wouldn’t kick in for another hour at least so Ian was alone with Dolly and the mystery man across from him. The mystery man with a bright pink cell phone in his hand. Complete with silicone bunny ears.
“Nice phone.”
The words slipped out before Ian could stop them. Before he even realized he’d opened his eyes again let alone his mouth.
Those amazing blue eyes snapped up to glare at Ian. “The fuck you just say to me?”
Ian blushed and shuffled in his seat. “I...uh...it was a joke. You don’t look like the bunny ears type.”
The glare narrowed further. “You think you know me now?”
“No! Wow. No. Of course not! It was just a joke.”
Ian silently wished for a sinkhole to open up on the tracks and sweep them all away to their premature deaths. Why the hell had he engaged with a guy he didn’t know at this time in the day? A guy who, oh yay, he just noticed had knuckle tattoos that read ‘fuck u-up’ the quality of which had Ian hoping he didn’t actually pay money to have done. Night shift always fucked with Ian’s body because he had to take his morning meds before he got on the train. They made him jittery. They also made him say things to strangers before any logical part of his brain could hold up the warning flag.
“Relax. I’m fucking with ya.”
The guy was now grinning broadly at Ian and twanging the bunny ears on the phone with his thumb. “It’s my sister’s. She left it at my place last night.”
“So you’re reading all her texts and gathering dirt on her?” Ian grinned back.
Blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Already done. Now I’m on some app that’ll tell me which member of One Direction I’m gonna bang based on how I decorate my house.”
Hope, shock and intrigue collided in Ian’s body and before he knew it his jaw was swinging open like a trapdoor. “Really?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “And it’s bullshit. I picked out all the bougie options and I got Niall. No fucking way. I shoulda got Harry Styles all day every day.”
Ian burst into loud and uproarious laughter. “Oh my god. That’s brilliant.”
“Algorithms, man. Just a fucked up way of finding out all your personal shit and selling it to the highest bidder.”
Ian continued to chuckle even when the thought flashed through his mind that the guy sounded a little like Frank. He shook the thought away and settled on gazing at the guy. God he was beautiful. Dark eyebrows framed the beautiful blue eyes and arched expressively like they were telling the story without words. Ian didn’t want to look away. Couldn’t look away if he tried.
“Harry Styles, huh?” Ian smirked teasingly and was rewarded with some wiggling brows and a wicked grin. “I get that.” Ian added.
“What’s not to get? Voice of an angel, face of a devil and a British accent. Don’t get better than that.”
Ian nodded along. “Sure. But with Niall you get an Irish accent...”
“Fuck the Irish.”
“I’m Irish.”
“Fuck you then.”
Ian dissolved into a fit of giggles at the fast paced banter this guy was giving him. “Not sure I could defend the honor of the Irish well enough after coming off a night shift.”
The guy chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”
Ian leaned over and extended his arm. “I’m Ian, by the way.”
“I know.” The guy shook his hand and sent a bolt of static electricity up his arm.
“You do?” Ian frowned.
The man smirked and gestured to his own chest, making Ian feel like an idiot when he realized he still had the badge attached to his polo shirt that proclaimed him to be Ian! and asked how Ian! could help today.
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” Ian blushed.
“Mickey.”
“Mickey.” Ian repeated and smiled when he discovered how much he liked the sound of that. It was a good name. Cute, like the mouse. But still a little snappy. Like Ian could chant it over and over as he pounded into the other man and never get sick of hearing it.
“Woah. Where did you go?” Mickey tilted his head.
Ian frowned. “Hmm?”
“Your eyes glazed over for a second just then. Where did you go?”
The heat in Ian’s face could warm a house for winter. “I...you don’t wanna know.”
“I do. I really do.” Mickey smirked.
“Daydreaming that I was Niall actually.” Ian admitted and braced himself for the anger or disgust Mickey was about to throw his way. Instead, Mickey tipped his head back and laughed. The pale column of flesh exposed to Ian made his cock twitch. He wanted to sink his teeth into Mickey’s throat and leave marks all over him.
“You’re looking at me like you wanna eat me.” Mickey caught his full bottom lip between his teeth. Ian coughed and shrugged nonchalantly.
“Is it bothering you?”
Mickey glanced down and Ian’s eyes followed, bulging out on stalks when he saw the vaguest hint of something straining behind Mickey’s zipper. “Do I look bothered?”
Ian mulled on that for a moment and looked up, horrified that he was one stop away from home. “This is me coming up next.” Ian rose to his feet.
“I’m good for another couple stops.” Mickey smiled back at him. “Good chat though.”
Ian barked a laugh. “Yeah. It was.”
The train slowed and jerked to a stop. Ian waited until the last second to break eye contact and hop off the train. Mickey raised his hand to wave through the glass as the train started to move again and Ian waved back, feeling sadness in his stomach that the encounter was over. When the train was out of sight Ian finally started to walk home. The encounter may be over but it would be a long time before the image of Mickey faded in Ian’s brain.
Three months passed and in that time Ian hadn’t seen Mickey again. He looked for him all the time. On the platform, in all of the carriages and even the one day he was feeling pretty low and stayed on two stops past home to see where Mickey got off. It all to no avail and it was like he had disappeared into thin air. It had taken weeks for Ian to stop looking up every time the door opened. That’s probably why he was completely blindsided when the seat alongside him was filled by someone who leaned in a little closer than normal and greeted him brightly.
“Hey. Remember me?”
Ian had spent the last three months remembering Mickey in minute detail. Every word they shared. Every second of eye contact. Every line and blemish on his face. It was locked in his memory (and, yes, his wank bank too) forever.
“Give me a second. It’ll come back to me. Oh yeah. You’re the guy who wants to bang Harry Styles.” Ian grinned.
“Damn straight. So, how you been?” Mickey was looking at him like he was genuinely interested in the answer. Ian smiled shyly and shrugged a shoulder.
“Oh you know how it goes. Work. Sleep. Eat. Repeat.”
Mickey laughed. “Yeah I know how it goes.”
“Haven’t seen you around.” Ian mentioned casually.
Mickey’s smirk told Ian exactly how casual he sounded. “Nope. Been outta town for work. Back to the usual shit now though. Early morning train rides with inquisitive redheads.”
Ian blushed and chuckled. “Sounds good. So what do you do that has you working outta town?”
Mickey’s expression clouded for a split second but long enough for Ian to catch it.
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business. I’m just being an inquisitive redhead.” Ian assured him, not wanting Mickey to clam up and stop talking altogether.
Mickey assessed Ian for a long minute and then smiled. “What the hell. You don’t look like a cop. I’m a dealer.”
“Oh? Art? Antiques?” Ian kept a straight face so well that Mickey squinted at him to see if he was serious. When his lips started to twitch Mickey giggled and jabbed him in the ribs. Ian thrilled at the contact.
“Good old fashioned narcotics.”
Ian’s mouth fell open and his widened. “No! Say it ain’t so! You’re a...” he glanced around the almost empty carriage theatrically and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “...a criminal?”
Mickey giggled again and it was quickly becoming Ian’s favorite sound. That and the one he imagines in his head when he dreams about fucking Mickey’s brains out.
“A really good one.” Mickey whispered back. “You got a problem with that?”
Ian shook his head. “I’ve always gone for guys from the wrong side of the tracks.”
It was meant as a joke even though it held more than a kernel of truth. He pictured Fiona or Lip hearing about his flirtations with Mickey and their judgemental sneers. There was only so many times they could churn out the whole ‘but we care about you!’ before Ian lost his shit completely. Mickey was watching him carefully. Ian almost cringed away from the scrutiny but there was something in Mickey’s eyes that told him he had nothing to worry about.
“Is that so?”
Ian exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “Yeah. Sensible, goody two shoes types never really did it for me.”
“And I do?” Mickey grinned cheekily.
“I thought we were talking about your career choice...”
“But I do though. Don’t I?” Mickey goaded and Ian felt a rush of blood to his head.
“Why? You gonna do something about it if you do?”
“Maybe.” Mickey's tongue flicked out to lick his lips. “Put on a show for Dolly.”
Ian stared at Mickey. The sill of the window was wedged under his shoulder blade on his back and it was uncomfortable, but easing it would mean making Mickey move away and like hell was he about to make that happen.
“Tryna work out if I’m being serious?” Mickey smirked, leaning in closer to Ian couldn’t move if he tried.
“No. Trying to work out if I’d do it if you were.”
Mickey chuckled and shuffled in his seat away from Ian. “Wouldn’t be a very good criminal if I got caught fucking around on a train. Cameras everywhere.”
Ian got more comfortable in his spot and sighed softly. “True.”
Mickey stood up and pointed out of the window. “Your stop?”
Ian jumped to his feet. “Shit. Yeah.”
Mickey stepped aside to let him pass but not far enough away that Ian could avoid brushing past the other man.
“Same time tomorrow?” Mickey raised his wondrous dark brows.
Ian could just about nod then he had to run. Once on the platform he watched the train pull away with Mickey now sitting in the window seat. He winked at Ian and then he was gone.
“Fuck.” Ian exhaled shakily. “What the fuck.”
Knowing Mickey would be on the train the next morning had Ian on the edge of his proverbial seat all night. He usually spent Tuesday evenings with Lip at his apartment. They’d grab takeout and watch a movie while catching up on their weeks. It was a standing arrangement that both men worked hard to stick to because they were more than just brothers. They were best friends. That night, however, Lip had to cry off because his little boy Freddie had chickenpox. Ian couldn’t help thinking it was a blessing. Not the chickenpox. He’s not a sadist. But the fact that Lip wasn’t around to see him pace around his apartment and fidget so hard that he broke a plate and a wine glass. That was the blessing. It would lead to the elder Gallagher probing about the state of Ian’s mental health and asking a lot of questions Ian didn’t have answers to. It was a good thing he was alone to get the jitters out of his system and have a long, painfully amazing jerk off session with Mickey front and center of the fantasy. If Ian hoped it would take the edge off...well he was very fucking wrong.
Ian had no reason to take the L that morning. Especially not that early. He hadn’t worked the night shift. So he felt like a complete and utter chump as he left his apartment a little after five in the morning so he could travel out to where he worked, only to switch platforms and hop on the next train home. What kind of idiot behaves this way? Ian rolled his eyes internally at his own goddamn stupidity which was quickly overturned when he spotted Mickey on the empty platform of the next stop. The entire carriage was empty. Not even Dolly was around and this was her home. His pulse throbbed in his throat and his palms became clammy. It was ridiculous. He’d flirted with guys before. He was well known to be very fucking good at it! His sexual history was long and varied. In short, Ian had no fucking clue why this guy was getting under his skin in such a big way.
“Morning.” Mickey greeted Ian with a huge smile and slumped into the seat beside him. Ian could smell the faint linger of cigarette smoke on Mickey mixed with a fresh shower gel smell. It was working for him.
“Hey.”
Mickey was crowded close to Ian again and took his time looking around before turning back to him. “Miss me?”
“Please. It’s been a few hours.” Ian snorted with a laugh. “Why? Did you miss me?”
Mickey just grinned back at him and pushed the heel of his right hand into his own crotch.
“You totally missed me.” Ian laughed.
They fell into a comfortable silence as the train rattled through a tunnel, plunging them into darkness. Ian flinched when he felt a pressure on his thigh, exhaling shallowly when he felt the warmth of Mickey’s hand through his jeans. It crept upwards and fingers splayed so there was a slight brush against his cock. Ian closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.
“You okay?” Mickey murmured, still enveloped in darkness.
“Fuck yeah.”
Mickey chuckled softly and pressed harder until Ian whimpered. His cock was throbbing in his pants and pushing painfully on his zipper. “You feel good. Like you’re packing some serious heat.”
“Mmphh.” Ian growled when Mickey’s warm hand enclosed around his bulge. “Need more.”
The carriage was flooded with light and Mickey’s hand was gone.
“That’s all we got for now.” Mickey shifted in the seat.
“Not fucking enough.”
Ian was surprised by his own snappiness. He’d gotten his freak on in plenty of weird and not so wonderful places over the years. On the L wasn’t a big deal. If you could jerk a guy off in the detergent aisle of a major grocery store you could certainly get your rocks off on an empty train. Obviously Mickey had higher standards.
“You’ll thank me later.” Mickey’s voice was teasing. “I promise.”
“Later when? When I get off the train and you stay on?”
Mickey laughed loudly. “Ooh someone gets grumpy when nobody is paying attention to his dick.”
Ian turned to look at Mickey. “You started something. What’s the matter? Scared you won’t be able to finish the job?”
Mickey took it in good humor and leaned into Ian’s personal space. “I’ll let that one slide since all the blood from your brain is currently in your dick. But, trust me, when we get to your stop we’re gonna get off together. In more ways than one.”
Ian rolled his eyes even though he was breaking out in a cold sweat of anticipation. “That lameness usually work for you?”
Mickey smirked and shrugged. “You tell me, Red.”
It totally worked. Ian was putty in this asshole’s hands and when his stop was next Ian decided it was time to stop letting this guy call all the shots. He stood and grabbed Mickey by the wrist, shoving him to the doors.
“Ay, steady.” Mickey stumbled, but Ian’s large hands were there to catch him around the waist. The doors opened and Ian pushed them into the cool morning air. It was still only a little after six so it was pretty much deserted. But Ian had one thing on his mind and it couldn’t be done in a public space.
“Mmm think I like it when you manhandle me.”
Ian grinned wickedly. “Good. That bodes well for us.”
“Where are we going?” Mickey looked around, evidently looking for a secluded spot he could allow Ian to drag him into.
“My place. Two blocks. Think you can hold that long?”
Mickey’s laughter was like birds singing in the trees. “Lead the way, Casanova.”
It occurred to Ian as he climbed the dozen steps to his upstairs apartment with Mickey almost pressed to his back that he could be making a catastrophic mistake. He hesitated with his key in the lock.
“Second thoughts?” Mickey asked softly.
Ian didn’t answer immediately. He turned so his back was against the door with Mickey in front of him. The blue eyes he was growing very fond of were gazing at him with no hint of judgement.
“I...uh...I haven’t always made the best decisions. With guys, I mean. There’s reasons. But I feel like I do better now...”
Mickey nodded along and waited for Ian to continue. He took a breath and exhaled slowly.
“And I don’t want this to be another bad decision. I don’t want it to be like I’m going backwards.”
“Makes sense.” Mickey agreed. “You think this is a mistake?”
Ian tilted his head. “It’s exactly what 2015 Ian would do without thinking of consequences. But it doesn’t feel like a mistake.”
Mickey smiled and took half a step back. “You want me to go?”
“No.” Ian was certain. “You’re not a serial killer right?”
“Drug dealer to serial killer is quite a leap.”
“I know. Sorry. This is just...it’s my home. My safe space. And I want this. Want you. So much. But this is...fuck. I don’t know what I’m saying. Fuck!” Ian covered his face with his hands.
Mickey reached out and wrapped his cool fingers around Ian’s wrists and pulled them away from his face. “Hey. Look at me.”
Ian opened his eyes and found flirtatious, cocksure Mickey had left the building and was replaced by someone who was assessing the situation carefully. Shame clawed at Ian’s insides.
“I’m not a serial killer. I’m not gonna hurt you. Physically or otherwise. But this is supposed to be fun and I don’t think you’re having fun. So how about we put a pin in this and just have some breakfast?”
Ian burned with humiliation. “I’m sorry...”
“Shut the fuck up. You got nothing to be sorry about. There anywhere to get eggs in this neighborhood?”
Ian chuckled. “Yeah. Let’s get some eggs.”
Breakfast with the guy who was feeling you up in public one minute and then you rejected the next was an absolute trip. Ian watched Mickey like a hawk as he perused the diner menu.
“What’s the bacon like here? I hate it when it’s all fatty and you hardly get any damn meat.” Mickey didn’t even look up as he questioned Ian. “But I got a real boner for some scrambled eggs and bacon with syrup.”
“It’s good. Nice.” Ian nodded, wondering how he’d allowed himself to end up in this situation.
“You ordering anything or you just gonna watch me?”
Ian closed his mouth and nodded. “Same. I’ll have the same.”
Mickey waved the server over and ordered their breakfast, accepting the offer of a refill on their coffees. Ian didn’t know what to say but Mickey was happy to take control.
“You live alone?”
Ian nodded. “Yeah. Moved in a couple of years ago. It’s not much, y’know, but it’s mine.”
“Sure. I got my own place last year. Too many siblings eating all the food and never paying any damn bills.” Mickey grinned.
“I miss living with my family. We’re tight. My sister raised us. Gallagher clan against the world.” Ian smiled wistfully.
Mickey smiled as well. “That’s nice. I’m only really close to my sister. She’s annoying as all hell but she’s got my back. Especially when my old man found out I’m a pole smoking queer.”
Ian choked on his coffee and laughed. “Oh my god.”
Mickey wiggled his brows. “Caused quite a stir in the neo-Nazi circles my dad mixed in. I ended up trading my confession for a fractured skull.”
The color drained from Ian’s face and his knuckles went white from gripping the table edge. “Holy fuck. What happened?”
Mickey shrugged like it was no big deal, even though Ian refused to believe anyone could be okay with that happening to them. “Caught me with a dude. Beat the shit out of me. Neighbor called the cops. Terry was arrested.”
“Jesus, Mick.” Ian exhaled and gazed at Mickey.
Something flashed over Mickey’s face and he scowled. “I don’t need your pity.”
“Fuck you. I’m human.” Ian shot back.
Mickey settled on a sigh and sat back in his seat, bringing his coffee to his lips. “He’s gone now. Died in prison. Official line is heart attack but we all know someone helped him along. Only wish I knew who so I could shake their hand.”
Suddenly, Ian knew exactly what Mickey was doing. Conversation was flowing between them and the awkwardness had seeped away. If he wasn’t so annoyed at himself for not spotting a therapy technique sooner he would give him a round of applause.
“I got to take over the family business. Dropped the guns part, or rather my older brother Tony took it over. I stayed on the dealing. Nothing big. Small quantities moving in small circles. Keeps it safer. Got a good thing going now.” Mickey added with a smile. “Guess I shouldn’t sound so proud of myself when my great accomplishment in life is running a drug racket huh.”
Ian rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer. “We’re told from the day we’re born we gotta beg borrow and steal to get by. Good for you.”
Mickey looked up at Ian from under his long lashes and smiled. “Yeah.”
The arrival of their food distracted them from the simmering tension and Mickey tucked into his food like it was his first meal that week.
“Watch your fingers.” Ian joked.
“Mmm. Don’t get food like this in the joint.”
Ian’s eyes widened and Mickey met his shocked gaze while he cringed.
“What the fuck?”
Mickey wiped the syrup from the corners of his mouth and gulped down some coffee. “Bullshit charge. My sister got caught with some weed in her car. I took the rap.”
“What? Why?” Ian was confused.
“She can’t go to prison. She’s never done more than an overnight stay at the precinct. I wasn’t about to let that change.” Mickey’s voice came out in a growl.
“Out of town for work.” Ian had a burst of realization. “Jesus. How dumb am I?”
Mickey chuckled. “You’re not. I should’ve told you.”
“You told me you’re a really good criminal!” Ian laughed.
“I am.” Mickey nodded. “My sister, not so much.”
“I hope she was grateful.”
“I mean, sure. Beneath the swearing and insults I’m sure she was.”
Ian couldn’t help but smile at Mickey’s mischievous grin and shook his head. “You make me laugh.”
Mickey ducked his head and scooped up some more eggs. “Eat your food, man.”
“Yes boss.”
“Then I wanna hear a little about you.”
The eggs turned to rubber in Ian’s mouth and he kept his eyes fixed on his plate in case Mickey was looking at him. How could he begin to talk about himself? Mickey probably already knew he was dealing with a complete basket case. How else would you explain getting hot and heavy with the expectation of a good fuck one minute to the next having a near panic attack on your doorstep because you were thinking all kinds of things about your past?
“Just the highlights.”
Mickey sounded so relaxed. So calm. Ian wanted to crawl under the table and disappear.
“Yeah well. Not much to tell.”
“Sure there is. How old are you?”
“23.”
Mickey nodded. “23 years of stories to tell.”
Ian scoffed a laugh. “Okay.”
They finished eating and waved the waitress off when she offered another refill. Mickey pull some crumpled notes from his back pocket and threw them down on the table.
“I can go half.”
Mickey shook his head at Ian’s suggestion and rose to his feet. “You can get the next one.”
Ian grinned at the unexpected words. “Yeah?”
Mickey tilted his head to the door. “Let’s go.”
Ian followed Mickey and they walked the short distance back to Ian’s place. His pulse started to race again as he climbed the steps and Mickey gave him a gentle shove in the small of his back to get to the top faster.
“Open the door.”
Ian complied and Mickey followed him inside. Mickey closed the door with a firm click and turned back to Ian with a cheeky smile on his handsome face. “You gonna kiss me?”
Ian felt the tension in his body evaporate and he lunged forward, pushing Mickey against the back of the door. “You gonna cut my tongue outta my head if I do?”
Mickey smirked and wrapped his hand around Ian’s neck, drawing him down to his lips. “Let’s find out.”
Ian made the final move to slot their mouths together and it was like fireworks going off in his brain. Mickey groaned and pushed up on his toes to make up some of the height difference and Ian used it to deepen the kiss. Mickey was pinned between Ian and the door with nowhere to move and it was the control that Ian needed to allow his overactive brain to quieten down and let him enjoy the moment. He curled his tongue inside Mickey’s mouth and sucked on the other man’s. He was completely in control and dominating the smaller man, who was whimpering into Ian’s mouth like he was in pain. The good kind.
“Fuck, Ian...Jesus!” Mickey had to push Ian away to catch a breath.
“You okay?”
Mickey laughed shakily. “Better than okay. I’m harder than coffin nail.”
Ian leaned his forehead against Mickey’s. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”
“I’m not.” Mickey reached up to cup Ian’s face in his weirdly small hands. “Woulda regretted it if we fucked and you hated it.”
“Wouldn’t have hated it. Just woulda been scared I was making a fool of myself again. I used to fuck around with all the wrong guys. I didn’t want you to be my latest mistake.”
“Hmm. Really boosting my ego here.”
“It’s not about you. Not really. Because in the middle of all that all I was thinking was how right it felt. The connection we had. The banter. The spark. The lust. It all felt so real to me.” Ian tried to explain.
“It is real.” Mickey assured him. “You think I flirt with every guy I meet on the L?”
“I hoped not. But I’ve been wrong before. Straight guys in public, coming to me for some fun then leaving me behind. Married men going back to their families. My brain isn’t like yours. It works against me.”
Mickey gazed at him with his blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not married. I’m not straight. I’m into you. With your Annie hair and your roadmap of freckles and your sense of humor and your casual understanding of my lifestyle choices. You aren’t wrong about us.” His thumbs stroked over the bridge of Ian’s nose where his freckles were and smiled easily. “And I figure you’ll tell me your brain stuff when the time is right.”
Ian chuckled and sniffed back his emotion. “Yeah. I will.”
“Okay then.” Mickey rose up and pecked his lips against Ian’s. “I’m gonna head out. Same time tomorrow?”
Ian’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Yes please.”
“Diner at 7.”
“Not the L?”
Mickey opened the door and stepped out onto the small porch area. “No point in you getting the L when you’re not at work.”
With a wink and a wave, Mickey was gone.
Lip could sense something was up with Ian when he called about store discount later that day. He asked a few general questioned but Ian wasn’t going down that particular rabbit hole. He loved Lip deeply and they understood each other on a level that transcended sibling friendship. But that didn’t mean his big brother wasn’t a meddling asshole when the subject of Ian’s moods came up. Finally Ian got him off the phone and took a shower, jerking off furiously to the memory of kissing Mickey and the taste of him still lingering on his tongue. It was the type of orgasm that would make Ian feel boneless and sleepy, the kind that would guarantee a good night’s sleep. With the knowledge that he was meeting Mickey for breakfast again in a few hours firmly at the front of his mind meant that he could’ve jerked off over a hundred times and he would still be wide awake. He got about two hours of sleep and spent the walk to the diner worrying about the effects of sleep deprivation on his bipolar.
Mickey was in the same booth as the last time when Ian arrived and waved him over.
“Hey.” Ian exhaled his greeting as he slid into the seat across from Mickey.
“You look like shit.”
Ian snorted in disbelief. “Thanks.”
“I thought people liked honesty in relationships.”
“Is that what this is? A relationship?” Ian retorted.
Mickey shrugged with one shoulder. “All human interactions are relationships.”
Ian pondered that. “I guess.”
“And you still look like shit.” Mickey added. “What gives?”
Ian ran his hand through his hair and laughed. “Didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh? Neighbors having a party? Mine don’t know when to fuckin stop.”
Ian shook his head. “The brain thing.”
Mickey paused in his mission to stir as many spoonfuls of sugar as possible into his coffee and looked up at Ian. “Is it a me and the brain thing?”
Ian tilted his head. “Huh?”
“Am I making the brain thing worse?”
“Okay,” Ian set his coffee down. “I gotta stop calling it the brain thing. It’s bipolar. I’m bipolar.”
Mickey nodded once. “Right. Am I making it an issue? My presence. My existence.”
“Yes.” Ian admitted. “But only because I like you and I’m trying to make sense of how I feel.”
“Sure. I get that.”
“And when I feel light-headed and get butterflies in my stomach and my pulse races and I’m just so genuinely happy...well, it’s like all the warning signs for a manic episode.” Ian tried to explain.
Mickey resumed stirring his coffee and then took a sip. “So you’re trying to figure out if it’s your condition making you feel that way or if I am...”
“Essentially, yes. Even though logically I know it’s you. God, it is so you. But my brain doesn’t switch off. It runs through all the scenarios. All of my past mistakes. And then I can’t sleep.”
Mickey smiled softly. “You need something to wear you out.”
Ian scoffed. “I jerked off five times last night. I was wide awake with a sore dick.”
Mickey started to laugh when the look of horror formed on Ian’s face. Talk about over sharing!
“I did not mean to say that.”
“I gathered. You’re fucking glowing!”
Ian burst into gentle laughter. “You must think I’m crazy.”
Mickey shrugged. “Aren’t we all? In different ways at different times. We’re all a little crazy.”
“How does it feel to see everything so clearly?” Ian joked and picked up his coffee cup.
“Pretty good.” Mickey replied. “I never used to be like this. Couple spells in juvie, my dad slipping off this mortal coil, another spell in the big house. Gives you a lot of fuckin thinking time. I did some psychology course in prison. Talks about compartmentalizing your shit into the stuff you can change and the stuff you can’t. Once you figure that out you can start to focus on making the right changes and also learning to deal with the shit that you can’t control. I know, sounds pretty airy fairy but it helped me.”
Ian stared at Mickey long and hard for what felt like a lifetime. The dark haired man waved over the waitress so they could order food and still Ian continued to stare. Mickey had to order for him because he couldn’t find the words to order and still he stared.
“Are you real?” Ian finally blurted out.
Mickey picked up a fork and stabbed it into the back of his hand, leaving red marks. “Yup.”
“I don’t understand why any of this is happening. You were looking for a fuck. Now I’ve dragged you into this...this...debacle that is my life and you just sit there like it’s completely normal.”
Ian’s rant was cut off by Mickey kicking him in the ankle. “Ouch!”
“Who the hell said I just wanted a fuck?”
“But...it was just so...random and hot and in the moment...” Ian spluttered.
Mickey laughed musically. “You’re so dumb.”
“I know I am. I really am. But could you just explain how in this particular situation?”
Mickey chuckled again. “You’re an idiot. I’ve been sitting across from you on the train for months. Almost a year actually. I wanted to talk to you for so long before you spoke to me.”
“You did?” Ian felt the full orchestra of butterflies start up the band in his stomach.
“Of course. You’re fucking beautiful. You never knew I was there. Too busy reading that book. What was it? The Mount of something...”
Ian giggled. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Yeah. Nose in that book every day for weeks. I gave up hope of talking to you.” Mickey leaned back in his seat, letting his foot hook around Ian’s ankle. “Then you spoke to me.”
Ian didn’t know what to say. He knew, objectively, that he was good looking but nobody had ever confessed to be interested for so long from so far away. “And then you were gone...”
“Fuck, I know. Fucking Mandy. Screwing things up for me.” Mickey’s laugh was joyful and relaxed. “You don’t need to stress about it. I’m not proposing marriage or anything. I just wanted you to know it was never just a fuck to me.”
The waitress chose the moment to set down their plates of pancakes and smile at them broadly. “Well how could it, I mean look at him.”
Ian blushed furiously and Mickey laughed. “Hitting on my guy is a quick way to lose a tip.”
She gave a girlish giggle and walked away, winking at Ian. Mickey picked up his fork again and immediately reached over to stab a piece of bacon from Ian’s plate.
“Hey! You’ve got your own!”
“Liked the look of yours.” Mickey’s brows wiggled.
Ian retrieved Mickey’s foot between his own and held it tight. “So you’re not gonna disappear off the face of the earth because I haven’t put out yet?”
“Keep kissing me like you did yesterday and I’m not sure I ever need to fuck again.” Mickey grinned.
Ian laughed and ate his breakfast, the pressure in his chest easing off with every passing minute.
Mickey walked Ian home again after breakfast and followed him inside. Ian held back while Mickey looked around the apartment from the doorway. He smiled and looked up at Ian.
“It’s a nice place.”
“It’s not much...”
“It’s nice.” Mickey insisted. “I didn’t get to see it yesterday.”
Ian snagged Mickey’s hand in his and pulled him into the living room. From there he led him to the tiny kitchen at the back.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Mickey chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve had seven cups of coffee. I need to piss.”
Ian grinned and led Mickey back through the living room and back to the hallway where two other doors were closed. Ian opened one and revealed a small, clean bathroom.
“Help yourself.”
Mickey disappeared inside and closed the door, leaving Ian outside. He went through the other closed door and into his bedroom, taking a seat on his bed until Mickey finished. His bedroom was small but had everything he needed. A queen bed was a treat to himself after spending the better part of two decades in something the size of a casket. His clothes were neatly folded in a dresser and his nightstand held a lamp, a book and a bottle of water.
“You must’ve been a Boy Scout to have a room this tidy.” Mickey joked from the doorway.
Ian was caught in the middle of a yawn and started to laugh. “ROTC.”
“Oh the army shit? So you know how to shine your shoes real good...”
“And fire a gun. I was a crack shot back in the day.” Ian grinned.
“I should put you in touch with my brother Tony. Dumb fuck nearly lost a finger cleaning out a Luger last month.”
Mickey sauntered into the room and picked up his dog-eared copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. “This any good?”
“My favorite book.”
Mickey nodded once, like he’d decided something in his own head, and kicked off his boots. He gestured for Ian to do the same.
“What...?”
“Relax. You’ve got work tonight right?”
Ian nodded. “10 til 6.”
Mickey smiled softly. “So you need to rest. Let’s just get comfortable and you can tell me about this book.”
When Ian woke up it was to the sound of a very loud and very unfamiliar alarm. He scrambled out of bed and grabbed up the phone making the noise, realizing in his sleepy haze that it wasn’t his phone. Ian rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was fully clothed and the room was otherwise empty. He finally spotted a note, scrawled on the back of an envelope, propped up against the lamp.
“Hey. That was maybe the best nap I ever had. You snore, FYI. I’ll be on the L tomorrow when you get off work. Bring my phone back. M x”
Ian read and reread the note at least ten times. His fingers traced the lines and loops of the somewhat childish script. Absorbing the words that meant Ian needed to see Mickey again. He held the phone in his hand for a moment before an idea popped into his head. He used it to dial his own number and then quickly stored it in his own phone, like it would disappear if he hesitated. With a glance at the time he smiled. Mickey had left him enough time to eat and shower before heading to work. All of a sudden a clawing realization hit him.
“I fell asleep on him.” Ian groaned and slumped back in the bed.
His shift felt long as hell and wasn’t helped by knowing Mickey’s phone was in his locker, patiently waiting to be returned to its owner. Ian was less patient and had to be told by his co-worker Maya to stop fucking stomping around before she took his head off. Quote unquote. He finally made it to the end of his shift and ran the six blocks to the train. He checked his watch to make sure he caught the right train and jogged along to platform to the second last carriage, the unofficial meeting place they had silently agreed on. Mickey was in the corner with his dark hair mostly covered by an olive green beanie hat. Ian had barely registered the change in the weather as it turned colder. Soon winter would be here and the snow would come and getting the train would feel like an arctic exploration. He slipped into the seat beside Mickey and leaned in so he was pressed against the sill.
“Morning.” He grinned.
Mickey smiled warmly and shifted to half-face Ian. “Hey. Good shift?”
“Long. Boring.” Ian smiled back. “Thanks for setting a wake up call for me.”
He reached into his backpack and pulled out Mickey’s battered cell phone. He passed it over and brushed fingers with Mickey, feeling the spark of static shoot up his arm.
“Thanks for bringing it back.”
“Hope you didn’t need it for work.” Ian chuckled.
“Nah, man.” Mickey laughed and shook his head. “That shit goes down strictly on burners.”
“You’re a real professional outfit huh.”
“Well you know. If you’re gonna make a career outta something you gotta put some effort in.”
They lapsed into comfortable silence and Ian reached out to take Mickey’s hand in his. There was nobody else around but he still couldn’t stop himself from checking with Mickey that it was alright.
“Fine.” Mickey squeezed. “I’ve held your dick on here before, not gonna care about your hand.”
Ian laughed in a surprised, joyous burst and Mickey joined in.
“I’m sorry I zonked out on you.” Ian blushed.
Mickey squeezed his hand again, pulling Ian closer so he could whisper conspiratorially. “That was my nefarious plan when I got you into bed.”
Ian closed the narrow gap between them and pressed his lips to Mickey’s. “I feel a million times better today.”
“Good. Mission accomplished.”
“And I’m off work for the next three days and all I have planned in a Netflix binge.”
Mickey didn’t pull too far away and gazed at Ian. “Anything in particular? I’ve been wanting to start the one about the chess girl but haven’t gotten to it yet.”
“The Queen’s Gambit? Not gonna lie, I got no idea what that means. But I like the look of it.”
Mickey laughed loudly. “Same.”
“Maybe we could watch it together...” Ian threw the idea out there and waited to see where the grenade landed. Mickey just smirked and drew him in for another brief kiss.
“You take hints real good, Red.”
The couch was just not big enough for two. Besides that, it was also threadbare with springs poking through the fabric. Mickey stood up and rounded on Ian.
“You bought a huge ass comfortable bed that could fit two of you and you skimped on a couch? Where the fuck did you find this thing, in a dumpster behind a Goodwill?”
Ian grinned and shrugged. “Something like that. I needed a huge ass comfortable bed. In case you didn’t notice, I’m kinda huge.”
Ian clocked his mistake when Mickey’s eyes widened and his brows wiggled. He blushed and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh I know.” Mickey leered. “But seriously. This is a torture device.”
“It was free and I’m broke. You do the math.” Ian shot back, the sting of his situation being the hot topic.
“Fine. Okay. You get one end and I’ll get the other.” Mickey rolled up the sleeves on his sweater.
“I am not tossing out my couch, Mickey!”
“Relax, Drama Queen. I meant the TV.”
“I am definitely not tossing out my TV!”
“Jesus fucking Christ will you pick up the other end!” Mickey snapped. “Trust me.”
In a minute it became clear when Mickey set the TV down on Ian’s bedroom dresser. He plugged it in and played around with some settings and then the opening credit page of The Queen’s Gambit lit the room. Mickey kicked off his shoes and climbed on the bed.
“Come on. I’ve gotta go sell some product later and I wanna get at least three episodes in first.”
Ian stared in stunned silence for almost a minute before his brain clicked into gear and he leapt onto the bed beside Mickey. He grinned at Mickey and snuggled down with his head on his chest. Mickey’s fingers stroked through Ian’s hair.
“You’ve been up all night. You gonna fall asleep on me again?” He teased.
Ian prodded him in the ribs. “No chance. I wanna make out with you before you leave.”
“Oh totally.” Mickey agreed. “Netflix and Got No Chill.”
Ian fell silent and Mickey turned his attention to the show. Ian took Mickey’s spare hand in his and held it over his heart. “How are you real?”
“What’s that, Mumbles?” Mickey looked over.
Ian smiled sweetly. “Nothing.”
After the first episode they stopped to grab a sandwich and ate in Ian’s bed, to hell with the crumbs. It was so strange and domestic and Ian could barely wrap his head around this guy who had burst into his life when he was least expecting. When they finished eating they watched another and then started on another after that, but by this time the heat and proximity of Mickey had pushed Ian to the edge. His fingertips danced over the fabric on Mickey’s sweater and pulled it up enough to allow his hand to rest on his stomach. It was warm and soft with the hint of muscles tensing under his touch.
“Okay?” He mumbled and Mickey responded by dragging him in for a teeth-clashing kiss. They settled into the kiss quickly. Like they’d been doing it for years. They moved with a synchronicity that usually took years to develop. Mickey was very obviously letting Ian lead, which he was grateful for but at the same time had him wondering if now Mickey was ever going to see him as anything other than a sleepy idiot with a mental health condition.
“More.” Ian gasped as he wrenched himself away and started pulling at Mickey’s sweater.
Mickey hesitated for a half second before going with it and stripping out of his top. Ian groaned deep in his throat when Mickey’s body was revealed.
“Fuck. You’re gorgeous.” He dipped his head and kissed down the pale column of Mickey’s throat. He’d wanted to do it since he saw him laughing on the train. He wanted to bite a mark into the flesh but held back. It would be a little risky to mark up a guy you weren’t exactly dating just before he had to go deal some drugs.
“You don’t have to do this...”
Mickey’s voice cut through Ian’s thoughts. He may as well have thrown ice water over him. Ian sat back on his heels and gazed at Mickey. His red puffy lips were a huge distraction.
“But I want to.”
Mickey smiled softly. “Sure?”
“Never been more sure in my life.”
They just stared for a while. Mickey reached out and took Ian’s hand.
“That’s good. I don’t know how I’d feel if you told me I really was a mistake.”
Ian smiled tightly. “I’m sorry I said that. Sorry I didn’t explain it. It’s not you. I swear.”
“I know.” Mickey insisted. “But it would still hurt if this wasn’t right for you.”
Ian nodded and carefully lay down beside the other man, curling into him and cupping his jaw in his large hand. “I’m sorry.”
Mickey glared almost angrily. “Quit saying sorry. You got nothing to be sorry about.”
“I want you. You’re not a mistake.”
“Good.” Mickey relaxed and tilted his head so it rested against Ian’s forehead. “I gotta head out soon. We should do this again. When we got more time.”
Ian nodded slowly. “I haven’t blown it?”
“You haven’t blown anything yet.” He retorted with a grin.
Ian giggled happily. “Okay.”
“One more kiss before I go.” Mickey leaned in and captured Ian’s lips.
It felt like home.
Ian slept for hours. The smell of Mickey lingered on his pillow and he slept for hours with his face pressed into the fabric. A hint of cigarette smoke and something faintly minty. It was masculine and fucking addictive. When he woke up it was nearly midnight and he had a message on his phone from Mickey. He didn’t remember giving Mickey his number so he wondered about that for a second before opening the message.
“Hey. Bumper sales night tonight. Decided if I’m gonna be hanging out at your place more I’m gonna need somewhere to sit that ain’t gonna stab me in the ass. Pick a couch. I’ll order it tomorrow. M x”
Ian opened and closed his mouth like a talkative goldfish and clicked on the link Mickey had attached to his message. It was for a local furniture store and took him directly to the colorful, comfortable looking couches. His head whirred with confusion. Mickey wanted to buy him a couch? What the fuck?
“I can’t! That’s far too much!”
Mickey’s reply was swift and firm.
“You can. It’s not. Anything up to $400 is fine.”
Ian scrolled through the website after filtering the results to a maximum cost. There was still 54 couches to choose from. This was a ridiculous challenge Mickey had set him.
“I can’t choose!!!!”
Mickey sent back a rolling eyes emoji, which Ian replied to with more wide-eyed faces.
“You should have a say in this if you’re buying it.”
Mickey responded immediately. “True.”
Ian was sure that was the end of it when Mickey didn’t reply, but twenty minutes later there was a loud knock on his door and there was Mickey.
“Did I wake you?”
Ian smiled at his immediate concern. “No.”
Mickey finally waved his hands to gesture being allowed in and Ian jumped back. “Sorry!”
“The fuck have I told you about saying sorry? Save it for when you owe it. Jesus.”
“Sorry.” Ian murmured and Mickey just glared back at him with wide eyes until Ian laughed.
“Show me the options.”
Mickey was shrugging out of his coat and kicking off his boots so Ian knew he was staying a while. It was late, sure, but Ian had slept most of the day away and Mickey seemed to be able to function on fumes in his gas tank. Ian found the website and handed the phone to Mickey so he could scroll through the 18 couches Ian had marked in his favorites.
“Okay. Take away that one, that one, that one. Oh and that one. Won’t fit in the room.” Mickey mumbled to himself. “And get rid of that, that, that, that and that.”
“Why?” Ian asked with a pout.
Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Because they’re fucking hideous.”
“Fair enough.” Ian grinned. “Didn’t realize you were an interior designer.”
“Shut up. So I watch a little Queer Eye. That Bobby guy knows his shit.”
“You watch Queer Eye?” Ian was incredulous.
Mickey smirked. “Isn’t it like required viewing? Can’t be in the fag club if you haven’t seen at least ten shows.”
Ian burst into happy laughter and shook his head. “I’ve never seen it. Guess I’m not in the club.”
Mickey waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll put in a word for you. Okay, I got the options down to three. You pick out of those.”
Ian took the offered phone and smiled at the three choices. One was a dark charcoal color with a high back and looked soft as fuck. The second was a smaller looking tan couch with darker brown cushions. The last was a forest green color with a lot of padding in the arms.
“I like the green.” Ian said softly.
“Me too.” Mickey agreed. “It’s nice.”
“Are you sure about this? It’s a lot of money.”
Mickey grinned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. “I hit up three frat parties tonight. Sold my entire stash of shitty college weed. You get a couch, my sister gets a steak dinner and I pay my bills. We all win.”
“Seems like I get a better wedge of the deal here Mick.”
But Mickey wasn’t listening. He was clicking buttons on Ian’s phone that made his phone beep. With a quick switch he was typing away on his own phone. A minute later he was done.
“Coming the day after tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Ian was surprised.
“I know a guy.” Mickey shrugged. “You gonna be okay getting this one out? If you leave it on the sidewalk my guy will take it away.”
Suddenly Ian was on Mickey. It wasn’t even a plan. But here he was, pouring his thanks into a kiss that nearly knocked Mickey off his feet.
“Wow.” Mickey grinned. “I like how you show gratitude.”
“Come to bed. I’ll show you exactly how grateful I am.”
Mickey laughed and shook his head. “You’re still tired. I can see your eyes drooping. And I feel kinda icky about exchanging sexual favors for furniture.”
“Now you’ve just made it weird.” Ian laughed too.
Mickey pulled Ian down into another kiss. Softer this time. Gentle nipping bites and soothing flicks of tongue. “Come on. Let’s go snuggle.”
“Snuggle? Who the fuck are you?” Ian giggled.
“A much better fag than you are, apparently.”
Lip answered Ian’s call for help like the good brother he was and surveyed Ian’s apartment carefully.
“Ian. What the fuck are you doing?”
“I need to get this couch outside. Like now. Come on!”
Lip stared hard at Ian and the cogs in his brain were whirring loud enough for them to hear. “Why? What’s going on? And where is your tv?”
“Bedroom.” Ian replied, distractedly. He grabbed one end of the sofa and gestured to Lip with wide eyes. “Come on!”
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain what this is? Have you been on top of your meds? Have you been feeling different lately?”
Ian sighed loudly. “Lip, I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m fucking great actually. I need to move the couch because I’m getting a new one delivered in less than an hour and this needs to be outside for that to happen. The tv is in the bedroom so I can watch it in bed. Where it’s comfortable enough for two people. If you get what I’m saying. Now please help me move the fucking couch and I’ll buy you a fancy Starbucks fucking latte.”
“I don’t get it...hang on. Hold up. Two people? You’re seeing someone?”
Ian blushed and scratched at his neck. “I’m kinda seeing someone, yeah.”
“Kinda?”
“Yeah. Kinda.”
Lip scrubbed his face in his hands and took a breath. “Okay. Ian, you know I love you. And I know you’re stable and managing things. But this screams manic episode.”
“Screw you, asshole. I told you I’m fine. I asked for your help! Why would I do that if I’m manic? Why would I bring you here to judge me? You know what? Go home. I’ll sort this out myself.”
“I’m just trying to help you!” Lip shot back, with heat in his voice.
“But not with the thing I actually need help with! I’m fine, Lip. I’m stable and I’m happy. All I need is for this fucking couch to be outside before my new one arrives. Is that too much?” Ian snarked.
“Ian...”
“Just go. I’ll ask Mickey to help me.”
“Mickey?”
“Just go, Lip!”
Mickey answered his phone on the second ring.
“Hey Red.”
“Hey Mick.” Ian sighed. “My help fell through. Any chance I can pay your guy to help me get my couch out?”
Mickey laughed musically. “I’ll be there soon.”
Ian held the phone in his hand for a while after Mickey hung up. Without knowing he was doing it, Ian called Mickey back.
“Jesus, I’m on my way!” Mickey was still laughing.
“Are you? Really?” Ian blurted. “Are you even real? My brother thinks I’m having a manic episode and I don’t think I am. I’m not. But you’re new and amazing and making me feel like I do when I’m manic...which is fucking amazing by the way...but now I’ve started to doubt you’re even real. I think you might be all in my head. Nobody else has seen you. Just me. What if I made you up? Because good things don’t happen to me. And you’re such a good thing. Are you real Mick? I don’t think I can take it if you’re in my head...”
“Ian!” Mickey snapped sharply. “Take a fucking breath.”
Ian sucked in a lungful of air. “Mick...”
“Breathe, Ian.”
The use of his name and not a jovial nickname jolted Ian. That burning sense of shame he’d worked hard to escape returned with a vengeance. He was a fucking idiot.
“I’m sorry.” Ian choked.
“What have I told you? Stop fucking apologizing! I’m on my way. Deep breaths for me, okay?”
The line went dead and Ian started to tremble. Had he fucked this up? Was he manic? Life had just seemed to light and easy and fun lately. He thought it was Mickey. He was sure it was Mickey. He’d bet his life on his happiness being a direct result of meeting a guy who made him think and laugh and teeter on the edge of something big. But what if it was all a lie his brain created to fuck him over? It wouldn’t be the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.
Fifteen minutes passed. A loud knock on the door stopped Ian’s pacing in its tracks. He opened the door and there was Carl, dressed like he was going for a run.
“Lip told me what went down. You okay?”
Ian smiled shakily. “Yeah.”
Ian loved Carl in a way that he couldn’t really explain. In a way he didn’t feel about Lip. About anyone, really. Carl exasperated him. Worried him. Amused and entertained him. But more than that, Carl understood him. He didn’t buy into the idea that Ian couldn’t recognize his own mood shifts. If Ian said he was okay, Carl believed him. Until Carl saw differently with his own eyes, he believed him. It was pretty fucking liberating.
“Still need help?”
Ian laughed happily and stepped inside. “Yeah.”
Carl followed him and shook his head at the couch. With his ragged fabric and lumpy cushions, it was a masterpiece of trash.
“About fucking time.” Carl remarked and tossed some cushions onto the floor. “Probably best to tip and slide, yeah?”
Ian leapt into action and grabbed the other end to Carl. They wrestled the manky old couch to the front door, just as Mickey was climbing the stairs.
“Hey Red. You seem better. Are you levitating that with your mind?”
Ian laughed and dropped the couch, revealing Carl to the other man.
“Mick, this is Carl. Middle brother. He stopped by to help.”
“Yo.” Mickey nodded in greeting.
“Carl, this is Mickey.”
Carl leaned over the couch to extend his fist and grinned when Mickey bumped it. “And how do you know Ian?”
Ian scratched his neck anxiously. “We haven’t really defined that yet.”
Mickey shot Ian a dirty look. “You think I buy breakfast and furniture for just anyone?”
Ian ducked his head and smiled shyly. “Guess not.”
“Exactly.” Mickey nodded. “We go on dates. We’re dating.”
Carl smirked. “Got it. Okay. Let’s dump this piece of shit.”
Ian and Mickey stared at Carl for a second and the younger man laughed.
“The couch, I mean.”
The truck rolled up a minute after the old piece of shit landed on the curb. Two guys hopped out and greeted Mickey warmly. He pointed them in the direction of the open apartment door on the first floor and they quickly disappeared with the new sofa.
Mickey stood next to Carl and waved at Ian to get his attention.
“Look, dude, I know we just met so don’t take this personal okay?”
“What?” Carl frowned, his face contorting in mild discomfort when Mickey punched him in the upper arm hard enough to hurt. “What the fuck?”
“Mickey! What the hell are you doing?” Ian gasped.
Mickey reached out and patted Carl on the arm. “Tell your fuckhead brother that I’m real and I ain’t going anywhere.”
Carl glanced over Ian while he rubbed his arm. “The fuck?”
Ian felt his face flame with embarrassment. “I thought maybe I made him up. Bipolar, you know?”
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Diner lady, your brother and two delivery guys all saw me. I’m fucking real. Stop letting people get in your head.”
“Lip did this, didn’t he? Made you doubt yourself.” Carl sighed. “Fucking dick.”
“He means well.” Ian replied softly.
“Look where that’s got you.” Carl snapped. “He’s supposed to be the fucking smart one and he’s more dumber than anyone.”
Mickey winced at Carl’s casual butchery of the English language and Ian snorted a soft laugh.
“I just had a wobble. That’s all. He makes me happy. Been a while since I felt like that and I wasn’t manic, you know? Confused me.” Ian confessed.
“You had any other warning signs? Sudden need to change your job? Run away to join the circus? So horny you could hump a chair leg?” Carl asked with deadly seriousness.
“No, no and no.” Ian replied.
“We have a winner. You’re a dumbass.”
Ian glanced at Mickey, who nodded. “You’re a dumbass.”
Ian was saved from a response by the guys returning and grabbing up his old sofa. Mickey peeled off a couple of fifties and handed them to the driver.
“Thanks.” The guy saluted and then they were gone.
Carl lifted his arms above his head and stretched out. “Okay if I head out?”
Ian fist bumped his brother. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime, dumbass.”
“And your kind words.”
Ian gazed at his new couch with hearts in his eyes. Mickey was in the bathroom and Ian was taking a moment to reset.
“You okay there dumbass?” Mickey asked as he entered the room.
Ian rolled his eyes. “Look, as much as I enjoy the fact that you and Carl have met and bonded or whatever...”
“I’m fucking with you.” Mickey laughed and charged at Ian, barrel rolling them onto the new couch. “Wow. This is comfortable.”
Ian grappled with the other man until he was on top of him, pinning him and lowering his head to kiss him. “Thank you.”
Mickey slotted their lips together. “It’s fine.”
They kissed for a long time. Lazy, gentle kisses that felt like contentment.
“Horny enough to hump a chair leg?” Mickey murmured. “Is that a real thing?”
Ian chuckled into the soft skin of Mickey’s throat. “Yes but it’s technical name is hypersexuality.”
“Aren’t all single gay guys hypersexual?”
“I dunno. Are you?” Ian challenged.
Mickey chuckled and pressed his lips to Ian’s jaw while pushing up into him. “Around you? Fuck yeah.”
“According to you, I’m not single anymore. I’m dating. That kinda means I have a boyfriend.”
Ian’s voice was teasing but it poorly disguised his nervous energy. Mickey just laughed and flicked the end of Ian’s nose with his finger.
“Yeah. You do.”
Ian kissed him deeply. Soft and firm and so deep. When he pulled away he gazed at Mickey with his puffy red lips and blown pupils.
“Think maybe you wanna go to bed with me? And not to snuggle.”
Mickey grinned back at him. “Thought you’d never ask.”