Work Text:
"You are out of your mind! Have you seen that fuckin' ponytail, man? That's a powerful pony tail, that's bullshit!" Mickey insisted, kicking the oven door closed as he carried the tray of bagel bites into the living room.
On the Milkoviches coffee table lay already empty beer bottles and stood beer bottles that have yet to be opened. Mickey set the tray of food on the table and plopped on the couch, taking an unopened beer and taking a few sips.
"Unless, unless..." Ian countered, putting the movie disc in the DVD player. "...it's double-impact Van Damme. 'Cause that's some Van double-dayum!"
And Ian took a seat beside Mickey as he waited for the movie to start, nursing on his own bottle of beer. He turned to look at Mickey to see he was already glancing in his direction, making Ian's breath catch in his throat. As if they were freshmen on a first date, they both hurriedly turned towards the TV with warmth in their cheeks and a smile on their lips. Yeah. It would be a good night.
The movie wasn't even finished by the time they were wasted.
Neither boy were strangers to alcohol or intoxication, so for them to get absolutely hammered on some beer alone was pretty new. It could have been the marijuana they were smoking at the same time or maybe they weren't drunk at all. Maybe they were so unbearably happy together that it made them pliant, blurred their vision around the edges.
Ian let out a long burp that smelled like beer and tasted like pizza bagels. No, they were definitely drunk. "So," he started, leaning forward to the coffee table so he could roll a joint. "How's your ass?"
"Still fuckin' hurts like a bitch," Mickey slurred, shifting uncomfortably to relieve some pressure off his stitches. "Always gettin' shot for your orange ass, not even worth it." Ian feigned an offended gasp.
"Not worth it? So you're tellin' me my dick isn't worth it? I don't get that impression whenever we bang..."
Mickey leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting out a hum. "Yeah, your dick is worth it. Dealing with you being annoying isn't, though." But his voice held no hostility, just a gentle, teasing tone.
Ian stared at a particular spot on Mickey's now bared neck with a blue vein pulsing out of it and licked his lips, aching to turn the smooth, milky white and light blue patch a dark purple. he slowly began to lean closer to him. "How annoying is this then, hmm?" he asked, before attaching his lips to the spot he'd been eyeballing. Mickey let out a breath and slowly brought one of his hands to cup the back of Ian's head, hand buried in the buzzed ginger hair. They stayed that way for a while, just enjoying the sensation, a small, quiet moment that when looking back on it, they'd never really had before then. The movie they no longer cared about was still playing in the background, drowning out the small smacking noises Ian's lips were making against Mickey's skin. Finally, Mickey tried his best to fist Ian's cropped hair and pulled his face away from his neck and turned his own head. Mickey was sitting on the couch while Ian was kneeling on the cushions beside him also on the couch, and the position they were in made their faces impossibly close, the closest they can get without touching.
Ian wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him. He needed to kiss him so badly. But was that a thing they did, now? Was the van just a one time thing? But Mickey had literally invited him over for the night to escape the boys home. What did that mean for them? After tonight, would they just go back to being nothing but co-workers who occasionally liked to play with each other's dicks? Then again, Mickey had just let Ian suck on his neck for a solid three minutes.He figured it wouldn't hurt to try.
"Wanna...wanna kiss you," Ian breathed, bumping their foreheads together. Mickey stared for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. Finally his mouth spread into a lazy grin. "Watcha waitin' for then, Gallagher?"
Without waiting any longer, Ian leaned in to give an experimental, sweet peck, before diving in. The way their lips molded together had them both dizzy on something other than alcohol and the next few moments were gasps, roaming hands and the taste of beer, weed and pizza bagels.
Mickey's hands slowly slid down Ian's back before cupping his ass cheeks and pushing down, forcing their clothed crotches to meet and grind together. The contact had them both pulling away to gasp in each other's mouths, before leaning back in. They couldn't get enough, and by now they were purely drunk and high on each other.
A wrong movement caused Mickey to roll onto the TV remote that was sitting beside him and pressing a button, which caused the movie to turn into black and white static as the loud, alarming noise emitted from the device. The suddenness of the sound made the boys jump and freeze their movements, but Ian suddenly fell forward onto Mickey, causing him to put too much pressure on his injury. "Oh, fuck!" Mickey yelped, and Ian scrambled off him. "Sorry, sorry!" he apologized, straightening his shirt and clearing his throat. Mickey raised the remote and switched the TV off, before running his hands through his hair, heart still beating from being startled.
"How...how was that?" Ian wheezed, catching his breath. "Do you like it? Kissing, I mean?" Mickey exhaled. Normally he would have told him to fuck off, or joked that he was an awful kisser, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. They always said alcohol is the truth serum, and now Mickey knew it was true. "I like it...like you," he admitted quietly.
Ian's eyes widened at the uttered confession, before his mouth slowly turned into a Cheshire cat grin, leaning in and stealing one more peck. "I like you too."
Later, much later as they lay naked in Mickey's bed, they were much more sober than they had been earlier, and they lay in silence staring at the ceiling. "You know," Ian started. "I kinda feel like I just had my first kiss. I mean, I had it a long time ago, but...I dunno. This feels new."
Mickey nodded, but didn't answer. Ian kept talking. "Ah geez, my first kiss," he laughed to himself. "Pretty sure it was Roger Spikey, same day as my first fuck. Who was yours? It wasn't me, was it?" he asked jokingly.
When Mickey didn't answer, Ian turned to see him biting his lip while playing with a hole in the blanket. Ian's eyes widened. "Holy shit, it was me, wasn't it?"
Mickey's head snapped towards him. "No!" he protested defensively. Ian chuckled, turning onto his side and propping himself onto his elbow so he could see Mickey easier. "It's okay, I won't tell...I kinda like the fact that I was your first kiss." he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Mickey waved him off. "Fuck off, man."
Ian chuckled, before laying back down on his back and smiling up at the ceiling. He honestly thought that he was the happiest he's ever been. It seemed like the only time Ian could get anything out of Mickey was when they were both wasted, but that was okay. Ian wanted so badly for their relationship to progress further, and he thought it was working. Getting Mickey to kiss him, to admit that he liked him, admit that he liked kissing him, were steps in the right direction. Slowly, Ian would bulldoze the walls Mickey had built around him.
"Whatchu so smiley for?" Mickey asked. Ian shook his head. "No reason. I'm just...I had fun tonight, Mick. Thanks for inviting me, sure beats the boys home."
Mickey rolled his eyes, rolling over onto his left side. "Yeah yeah, whatever. I'm fucking done for tonight, so shut up and let me sleep."
Ian ignored the harshness in his voice and heard the disguised "any time". He closed his eyes, and couldn't wait to open them again in the spot next to Mickey the next morning.
He was completely unaware that Terry would walk in and build extra electrical fences around the newly repaired walls surrounding Mickey the next day.