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The Accountant Versus The Salesman

Chapter Text

“Fuckin’ dammnit,” Mickey grumbles when he rolls into the parking lot and sees that a certain red car is in his parking space. It’s not really his parking space, but that’s what he tells that redhead in sales when it’s the fourth day running that Mickey has to park around the side of the building and walk around.

Mickey grumbles and curses under his breath as he walks around the building to the main entrance. It’s too fucking cold not to have that spot by the door.

When he enters the office, that redheaded fuck gives him a fake, innocent smile and watches as he settles into the adjacent desk. Mickey nods politely to the woman on the desk opposite, before turning his head to the salesman.

“Get a good parking space, Mickey?” Ian asks, although he knows full well that he got a shit space and it’s all his fault.

“Fuck you, you know full well that I didn’t,” Mickey turns his head away and starts to boot up the computer.

“Tut, tut,” Ian clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “You know that language isn’t appropriate for the office.”

“You’re not fuckin’ appropriate for the office!” Mickey snaps back. Damn, he needs to work on his comebacks.

Their boss walks in at that moment and Mickey’s glad because that doesn’t give Ian the chance to make another stupid comment or remark. The boss talks to the receptionist for a few minutes and looks through some letters that she hands him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Mickey can see the redhead fidgeting because he’s cleary just dying to say something.

When their boss finally goes into his office he snaps his head back to the salesman and aggressively whispers as to not draw too much attention to them, “fuck you wanna say? Stop fuckin’ squirming!”

“Can I use your stapler, please?” Ian grins and politely asks.

“What’s wrong with your own stapler?” Mickey rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the e-mails he needs to read today so he doesn’t have time for Ian’s shenanigans.

“Broke it. Please,” Ian begs like a kid after candy and fucking hell is it annoying.

“Fine!” Mickey snarls and pulls open the drawer.

Ah, so that’s why he’s so desperate for his fucking stapler.

His stapler is suspended in the middle of some yellow jello. It’s actually pretty impressive, but he’s not going to tell the redhead that.

He takes it out of the drawer and not so lightly places it on the table, making it wobble in the process. Then he quickly finds a plastic fork in his drawer. He looks that damn salesman straight in the fucking eye as he shoves a forkful of jello into his mouth.

Ian looks disappointed that Mickey isn’t pissed off and turns his attention to his work. It is work hours after all.

The jello’s not half bad, and Mickey ends up just eating that for lunch since he’d left his in his car and it was way too cold - and snowing now too - to go back out there and retrive it.

After he has his lunch, he’s back to work. He’s still working on the spreadsheet he started a couple of days ago because there’s just too many different formulas and whenever Mickey opens Google to double check he’s got something right, he ends up distracted by cat pictures and so little work gets done. He occasionally has to use the calculator by his right hand when he needs multiple sums at once.

He takes his hand off the mouse, and goes to tap the numbers into his calculator, only, his calculator isn't there.

Ian smirks at him and leans back in his chair. “Looking for something, Mickey?”

Mickey rolls his eyes because of course it was Ian who took it. Who the fuck else would it be? “Give it the fuck back, Gallagher.”

“Give what back, Mickey?”

“You fuckin’ know what.”

If only that smug redhead knew how good Mickey could throw a punch. Maybe then he wouldn’t be such an asshole.

“You have to ask nicely,” Ian grins and rests his head in his hand and elbow on the desk.

“You can wait all you want, Red. I’m getting my fuckin’ calculator back.”

Ian sighs and holds up Mickey’s calculator with his free hand, waving it about. “This what you after? How exactly do you plan on getting it without asking nicely?”

Mickey stares for a moment whilst he formulates his plan. He sees his opportunity and dives out of his seat to grab his calculator.

Ian pushes his seat away from the desk and Mickey stumbles forward, trips, and lands with his face right in his fucking crotch. Like, his face, is basically on his dick. Like, if he wasn’t wearing pants, he might as well be sucking his cock.

Mickey recoils back quicker than he’s ever moved in his entire life and plants his ass back in his office chair, shooting Ian a death glare. He’s still fucking smirking.

“You know, Mickey, I’m pretty sure that counts as sexual harassment.”

Mickey gapes at him momentarily before he replies. “Sexual harassment? It was your fault my face landed on your dick!”

“Whatever,” Ian says quietly.

Mickey notices the blush on Ian’s cheeks and neck, and his smirk slightly falters. He sighs a little and chucks Mickey his calculator back.

He places his calculator on the other side so they won’t have anymore of those incidents that involve his face on Ian’s crotch. (It’s actually happened twice before, because Ian is pretty skilled in the art of pushing his chair away as Mickey dives for yet enough office supply that Ian’s nicked.) At least it shuts the redhead up until it’s finally the end of the workday.

Mickey gets to the elevator first and smirks when he sees his chance to get back at that cocky redhead. Ian does this little half run half walk towards the elevator and Mickey looks him dead in the eye, winks, and presses the close door button. Just as the door’s about to close and Ian misses his chance, Mickey gives him a shrug and frowns. Serves that fucker right.

One Thursday, Ian catches the elevator at the same time as Mickey. They look at each other and silently initiate a staring contest.

Mickey knows there’s no way he can lose this. He’s been shooting death glares and evil stares since he was born.

Ian steps the couple of steps closer, still looking in his eyes with his face barely a foot away from him. Then Ian’s hand presses softly against Mickey’s cheek. It burns and Mickey startles back, blinking, and the elevator doors open.

“Ay, you - you fuckin’ cheated!”

Ian clicks his tongue and strides over to his car. “Hm, I guess I did. See you tomorrow, enjoy your long and treacherous walk back to your car!”

“Fuck you,” Mickey grumbles.

“Hey, maybe if you got to work earlier, then you could have a spot as good as this!”

“Fuck you,” Mickey repeats and goes to storm off. He doesn’t miss the kiss that Ian blows him.

Mickey takes Ian’s advice and pulls into the parking lot an hour earlier than necessary and ha! He gets his parking spot back and peace is restored!

It’s finally his turn to smirk at Ian when he walks in, complaining about the lack of parking spaces.


Mickey has been pissed off at Ian a lot of times. Usually it’s when he pulls a silly prank or makes stupid remarks and comments thinking he’s smart. But there’s times when it’s smaller things that the redhead probably doesn’t realise he’s doing. Like those times in summer when he rolls his sleeves up and undoes a couple of shirt buttons. Or those times he comes in with a hickey just poking out of his shirt collar. It just pisses Mickey off.

Today is one of those times.

Mickey walks into the office and damn near dies.

Ian is fucking shirtless.

Like, no shirt. Bare chest. Toned abs on show.

Is this even fucking legal?

Mickey’s mind has turned into fucking mush and he’s staring, mouth watering a little and lips suddenly dry. Then Ian looks up at him and straight up fucking winks.

“Why the fuck are you naked?” Mickey manages to choke out and he prays his voice doesn’t sound as bad as it did in his head.

Ian rolls his eyes. “I’m not naked.”

“You might as fuckin’ well be!”

Ian chuckles and takes a shirt out of his bag. “I cycled to work,” he explains. “Didn’t wanna get my work clothes all sweaty.”

Sweaty, glistening Ian Gallagher. Fuck.

Mickey walks right past him, chucking his bag on his chair and heading straight to the restroom because no way was he getting caught with a hard on and giving that smug little piece of ginger shit the pleasure of knowing what he’s done.

It doesn’t take long for Mickey to sort out his boner. He gives it another fifteen minutes of internal arguing in that stall on whether or not Ian would be able to tell. He makes sure his face isn’t too flushed, hair just as neat as it was before, and that his lips aren’t too swollen from biting down on them.

Mickey wanders back to his desk and luckily, Ian has his shirt on this time.

“You OK?” Ian asks, and it weirdly sounds genuine for once.

“Huh?” Mickey’s caught off guard.

“You were there for awhile, you sick or something?” Ian smiles, a fucking genuine smile that isn’t some shit-eating grin or some sly smirk.

This smug asshole is being nice.

“Didn’t know you were capable of being nice,” Mickey shrugs.

“I’m capable of many things, Milkovich, you are yet to learn the many wonders of Ian Gallagher!” Ian chuckles and Mickey’s quite lost for words. “So, why were you so long in the restroom, hm?”

Mickey groans and leans forward, keeping his voice low and quiet so only Ian could hear him. “Fuck you. You know why the fuck I was in there for so long, you fuckin’ ass.”

Mickey swears that he broke Ian’s cocky facade right then. His eyes go wide, he wets his lips, and he nods frantically before pretending to be very busy with work.

When Mickey comes back from eating lunch in the breakroom, Ian’s back from some sales pitch and he seems back to his usual self again with a smirk and asks how Mickey’s day has been.

Mickey ignores the question and sits as his desk, he has deadlines to meet and can’t afford to be pulled into some back and forth conversation with him. He grabs the papers that need signing and reaches for the pen pot.

“Did you steal my fuckin’ pens, again?” Mickey rattles his empty - bar a paperclip - pen pot for emphasis.

“Maybe,” Ian shrugs.

“I will fuckin’ kill you one day, you do know that, yes?”

Ian smiles at him. Mickey’s gave Ian a hundred and one death threats, even more threats of violence, and never acted on them. “No you won’t,” Ian sighs. “Because you like me too much.”

“Pfft,” Mickey scoffs, but he’s not really scowling anymore, more smiling now. “I hate you.”

Ian shakes his head and looks up to meet his eyes. There’s this weird few seconds were they’re gazing, not just staring, they’re fucking gazing into each other's eyes. Ian nods like he’s just confirming something to himself.

“If you need more pens, the supply closet is pretty well stocked,” Ian stands from his desk and walks off.

Mickey’s not sure if he should read into that. The way he spoke, his body language, it seemed like he was inviting him into the supply closet for something. But it could just be his usual cockiness and flirting.

Either way, Mickey needs some pens, so gets up and heads to the supply closet. Maybe he’ll get a good fuck out of it, the kind that shows up in his wet dreams, or maybe he’ll just get some writing utensils. Either situation is good.

The supply closet doubles as the janitor closet so there is enough room for two people, if Ian’s actually there. Which he might not be.

Mickey opens the door of the small, dark, closet and almost has a heart attack when he hears Ian speak, hiding in the dark.

“Lock the door,” Ian says.

Mickey’s whole body is fucking tingling and there’s no turning back now that he walks into the closet and locks the door with a ‘click!’ behind him. There’s a little fumbling whilst Ian finds the string to pull and turn the dim light bulb on.

Neither of them are scowling or smirking at each other now.

There’s a pause.

Then Ian steps forward, pressing Mickey against the door, taking his fucking breath away as he leans down and kisses him softly.

Mickey is fucking melting in the arms of his arch-nemesis, who, yeah, maybe he’s had a crush on for way too long.

They pull away, breathless even though it only lasted seconds.

Ian slowly untucks Mickey’s shirt and slips a hand under to touch Mickey’s skin. It’s feels like his hand burns his skin, setting his whole body alight, and Mickey needs more.

Ian’s hands slip away to touch Mickey’s cheek as they kiss again. The kiss gets deeper and their bodies press closer. Ian’s hands drop from Mickey’s face to work the buttons on his own shirt, and Mickey reluctantly takes his hands away from Ian’s waist to do his own shirt.

Once their shirts are discarded, they put hands back on skin and it’s nothing short of electrifying.

They kiss and slowly grind their bodies together, gasps captured and moans muffled in each other’s mouths.

Mickey’s rock hard in his pants now and he can feel Ian pressing his own hard on against him, something has to be done. Ian knows this too and so he pulls away from the kiss.

“I’d like to fuck you and all, but…” Ian whispers in his ear. “I’d rather take you out for a nice dinner first, kiss you shyly, and then invite you back to mine and fuck you on every surface in my apartment.”

Mickey’s not quite sure what to say at that. “Asshole,” he mutters before bringing their lips together again.

“Sorry,” Ian mutters. “I don’t think it’s right that our first time’s in some little, dirty supply closet.”

“Now I’m all fuckin’ hot and hard, what the fuck, Red?” Mickey snaps his hips forward to grind his tight pants on Ian’s to show him what the fuck he’s started, and what he better fucking finish.

Ian smirks and kisses Mickey again before he drops to his knees. Now that, that is a fucking sight and a half.

“I just said I wasn’t going to fuck you, nothing about this in the rules,” Ian informs him as he unzips Mickey’s pants and pulls them and his boxers down to his knees.

Ian places a warm hand around the base of Mickey’s cock and gives it a couple of strokes, listening to every little stuttering gasp that Mickey lets out.

“Fuck,” Mickey murmurs when Ian thumbs the head of his dick and looks up to him.

Ian wets his lips and kisses the head. Mickey’s hands fly to Ian’s hair and he strokes his fingers through it gently, pushing his head down ever so slightly to encourage him to continue. Ian licks across the slit, earning him another gasp, before he swallows him right to the base at once.

“I- fuckin- Ian,” Mickey moans out and it’s probably the first time in a long time that he’s ever used Ian’s first name.

Ian hums around his cock and bobs his head up and down. His mouth is warm, wet, and overall fucking magical.

Ian’s hands grab Mickey’s ass and squeeze hard as he continues to swallow around his cock. Mickey bites his lip hard to keep himself from yelping and alerting his coworkers to this.

“I’m gonna come,” Mickey groans as he feels that telltale heat and tingle.

“Mhm,” Ian hums around his dick.

“Mm, Ian, fuck,” Mickey moans as he comes down Ian’s throat.

Ian swallows it all up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Mickey pants a little, trying to catch his breath. As Ian stands up, he helps Mickey with his pants and pulls them up with him.

They kiss again, Mickey tasting himself on Ian’s lips but not really giving a fuck because fucking hell, Ian’s lips are just wonderful.

“You still want that dinner?” Ian mumbles after a good few minutes of kissing.

Now that Mickey’s got a taste of what Ian’s mouth can do to his cock, he has to discover what Ian’s cock can do to his ass. He nods furiously and kisses him.

They dress again and help make sure that the other person looks presentable and inconspicuous. Ian leaves first, and after a few minutes, Mickey leaves after him. Mickey returns ten minutes later, however. He forgot the damn pens.

Chapter Text

“We’re not at work anymore, Mickey. You can stop being so - uh - distant,” Ian says to him.

It’s the next night and the night of that dinner. They’re sat down, halfway through their food, and Mickey’s barely spoken the entire night. He’s fidgety, irritable, and nervous.

“I’m not being distant,” Mickey snaps. “I’m just - it’s - ugh - fuck!”

“Hey!” Ian says, trying to wake him from this weird state he’s in. “Try and just calm down, tell me what’s up.”

Mickey glares at Ian for a moment because it’s actually his fault he can’t relax. It’s such a stupid reason to ba all nervous as well and he’s worried that he’ll just revert back to that redheaded asshole and tease him about it.

“It’s fuckin’ nothing,” Mickey mutters and stares back at his food.

Ian sighs, but doesn’t give up. He doesn’t want to blow his chance with Mickey. He’s had a thing for the accountant since he started working at that office a few years ago.

“Come on, Mick. What happened to happy Mickey in the supply closet who was looking forward to this dinner, huh?”

“Fine! Fine, Gallagher, you win. I’ll tell you,” Mickey breaks because this was supposed to be a nice night and he figures he’s only ruining it himself.

Ian smirks a little and nods for him to continue.

“I- I’ve just had a massive fuckin’ crush on you the longest fuckin’ time and now we’re actually doing something about it and I’m kinda nervous. Sue me,” Mickey confesses.

“Yeah I knew you liked me,” Ian shrugs.

“Fuck off. There’s no way you knew!”

“Sorry, Mickey, but it sometimes reminds me of being back in middle school. You know, when you got a crush on someone so you claim to hate them or annoy them by stealing all their pens and shit?”

Mickey huffs and folds his arms. Ian’s fucking right. He’s such a smug, know it all asshole. A talented, beautiful, funny, and adorable, ginger asshole.

“By that logic, you like me to. You annoy the fuck outta me and you’re always stealing my fuckin’ pens.”

Ian nods and his smirk is more of a relaxed smile now. “I’ve always admired you, Mickey. You’re so smart. You tell funny stories in the breakroom even though you swear you hate any and all human interaction. You’re actually really adorable when you get mad and try to threaten to shank me whilst I sleep. Top it all off, you’ve got one hell of an ass.”

Mickey’s face gets hot and he lets out this awkward shaky sigh, or perhaps a shaky laugh, it’s just a nervous breath. He reaches for his beer and downs the rest so he can blame anymore confessions or anything he’s about to say on the alcohol.

“I’m curious,” Mickey says, leaning forward a little because he doesn’t want any fellow restaurant goers to hear what he says. “Are you as gifted in the junk department as I am in the ass?”

Ian chokes on his own drink for a moment before regaining himself and smirking back at him. He nods, and that’s all Mickey needs to know to know he’s got a good night ahead of him.

The date ends up going pretty well after that.

They both relax and smile more. They agree to not talk about work and just talk about each other, get to know each other, like an actual date with someone new. Once they finish eating, they head back to Ian’s car.

It’s dark in the parking lot and Ian leans against his car, tilting his head a little whilst looking at Mickey.

“What you lookin’ at me like that for, Gallagher?” Mickey raises his brow.

Ian chuckles quietly before he kisses gently, placing a hand lightly on his waist. “You wanna come back to my place?”

“Yep,” Mickey kisses him again and they get into the car to head to Ian’s apartment.

Once inside the apartment, Mickey’s instantly pressed against the door, strong hands holding him as they kiss harder than before now with tongue and teeth.

They practically rip off their shirts, desperate to touch skin.

Mickey whimpers into the kiss as Ian slips one hand down his pants to squeeze his ass and another to thumb at a nipple. They pull away from the kiss, panting and out of breath but Ian wastes no time before attaching his mouth to Mickey’s jaw and neck.

“Ah, fuck!” Mickey yelps as Ian bites hard on a soft spot on his neck.

Ian kisses the spot he bit and sucks it gently, leaving a dark hickey which contrasts so beautifully with Mickey’s pale skin. Ian repeats this twice more. Once next to the mark and the other closer to his shoulder.

“Like markin’ me up, huh, Gallagher?”

“I’ve been pining after you for the longest fucking time, ain’t going to let you go,” Ian reasons.

“If you’ve been after me for the longest fuckin’ time, then why the fuck didn’t you make a move?” Mickey asks, because if Ian’s really liked him all this time, it kind of pisses him off that they haven’t been doing this sooner.

“Thought you were straight but…” Ian’s hands slip to the front of Mickey’s pants and grabs his hard cock, making Mickey gasp a little. “This kinda proves I was wrong.”

“Bedroom,” Mickey jolts his hips forward into Ian’s hand. Ian nods and grips Mickey’s hand and drags him off to the bedroom.

They strip the rest of their clothes quickly and Mickey has to take a moment to just blink at Ian’s fucking huge dick. It kind of explains why Ian’s so cocky all the time because he has this to be cocky about.

“Fuck,” he whispers and Ian smirks at the reaction.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been turned down for sex before once people get a look.”

“Modest,” Mickey scoffs. “Come on, man, I ain’t gonna pussy out. Let’s do this.”

They wrestle onto the bed and Ian lands on his back, with Mickey straddling him. Now Mickey gets to be the one with a smug smirk. Mickey shimmies down his body to settle between Ian’s legs.

He licks his hands and wraps them around Ian’s cock. He only strokes it a few times before he just needs to put it in his mouth. He licks his lips and leans down. He flicks his tongue across the head before wrapping his lips around him and taking half of it in his mouth.

“Mickey, f-fuck,” Ian stammers as Mickey bobs his head up and down, taking more and more each time.

Ian’s dick is hot, throbbing, and heavy in Mickey’s mouth and it’s fucking amazing. Admittedly, Mickey’s never given a blowjob before, but judging by the way Ian’s hips buck up, his hands grip his hair, and the way he moans his name, Mickey figures he’s doing something right.

When Mickey swallows him almost to the root, Ian’s hips go up and Mickey chokes a small bit around his cock. His eyes water but it was fucking wonderful and Mickey pushes himself to get all of Ian’s length in his mouth.

“Mick, Mick,” Ian’s hands tighten in Mickey’s hair before they start to try and take him off his dick. “You gotta stop.”

“Huh? Why?” Mickey startles a little frazzled because he’d been so into sucking his dick, it was like being in a trance.

“I’m not gonna last. Your mouth is - fucking - wow. I gotta get in you.”

Mickey had been secretly dreading this bit as much as he had been looking forward to it. He doesn’t say anything though, and let’s Ian flip them over and kiss him.

“Uh- I-” Mickey stutters when he gets the chance. “I’ve never bottomed.”

“What?” Ian asks because with an ass like that he can’t quite believe Mickey’s never tried it.

“I’ve topped a few times, and I’ve used my fingers, but I’ve never actually done it.”

Mickey opens up to Ian, and he’s glad that Ian’s so fucking nice about it. He strokes reassuring hand on Mickey’s cheek and Mickey feels like he’s fucking melting.

“Why not? You’re young. You’re hot. Nice ass.”

“I just,” Mickey shrugs, “I just never really trust anyone.”

Ian smiles sadly at him and leans down to kiss his forehead. “You trust me?” he murmurs.

Mickey swallows before nodding. “Yeah, Ian, I do.” He uses his first name. Not a common thing for Mickey to do, but it reassures Ian that he really means it.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Ian holds the lube up and asks.

Mickey nods again and leans up for another deep kiss.

Ian slicks his fingers up and teases them in between Mickey’s cheeks, making him gasp at that cold of the lube. He pushes his first finger in.

“Ah,” Mickey gaps at first but relaxes after Ian works his finger in and out a couple of times. “More.”

Ian complies and pushes two fingers. He crooks them a little and scissors them to open Mickey up.

“Ian, fuck,” Mickey moans and pushes down on his fingers. Then Ian pushes three fingers in his hole and spreads them a little. “Shit! I’m good, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey pants. “I wanna feel you.”

Ian didn’t need much more convincing than that. He quickly rolls on a rubber and strokes on some more lube. He kneels by Mickey’s ass and grabs a handful to hoist him up to get a good angle. Mickey wraps his legs around Ian’s hips and locks them behind him.

He lines up and slowly pushes a few inches in. Mickey moans lowly underneath him and bites his lip. Ian continues to push in until he bottoms out. Ian gives Mickey a moment to adjust.

“Move,” Mickey urges.

Ian does just that. He pulls his hips back, almost pulling out, before pushing back in.

He goes slow at first. The room is filled with soft moans, grunts, and the gentle slap of skin.

Mickey feels like he’s burning, but he’s figured Ian has that effect on him now and it’s actually fucking addictive. He needs more.


Ian takes ahold of Mickey’s hip to steady himself as he picks up his pace. It doesn’t take long for him to get a good pace that has Mickey chanting and crying out his name.

“Fuck!” he yelps as Ian thrusts into his prostate. Ian smirks and keeps that angle, pounding into that spot and making Mickey almost fucking tremble. “Ian. Fuck. Ian.”

“Mickey, you’re so - fucking - hot,” Ian praises as he continues to pound in and out of his ass.

Ian,” Mickey whines and pushes up his back. “I’m gonna -”

Ian nods and grabs Mickey’s dick, pumping it erratically in time with his thrusts and soon they’re both shouting and coming harder than fucking ever.

Ian’s hips slow to a gentle roll as they ride out their orgasms.

“Fuck,” Ian sighs as he collapses next to Mickey on the bed.

“Yep,” is all Mickey manages to reply before they’re kissing breathlessly again.

They curl up together for awhile, content.

“You know at work, we still gotta pretend to hate each other. Don’t wanna rouse suspicious,” Ian laughs.

“Pretend? Pfft, I don’t need to pretend.”

“Nah, you don’t hate me.”

Mickey sighs. “No. I guess I can fuckin’ tolerate you.”