First Day of My Life

Cravings

"Ian," Mickey whispered into the darkness. No response. He tried to shift his weight so he could sit up and look over the side of the bed to see if Ian was still in the room but the sharp pain in his shoulder kept him in place, "Fuck," he muttered. He cleared his throat loudly. Nothing. Growing up in the Gallagher house had made him one hell of a deep sleeper. It always bugged the shit out of Mickey how tough he was to wake up, especially when Yevgeny was a baby. While Mickey had tossed and turned all night, attempting to sleep through the crying in the next room, Ian had slept soundly, the only rested person in the house, "Hey Sleeping Beauty," he called, causing Ian to practically jump to a seated position his eyes wide.

"Yeah, shit. I'm up. What's going on? You ok?" He asked fretfully.

"Shoulders throbbing like a motherfucker. Get me a Vicodin."

Ian checked the alarm on his freshly charged phone, "You're not due for another half hour."

"You think it's gonna fucking kill me?" Mickey asked with a sigh, "C'mon, man."

"Alright," Ian conceded standing up so he could turn on the lamp and He look through Mickey's prescription bottles. He pulled out the correct pill and handed it to Mickey along with the bottle of water.

He swallowed down the pill, "Thanks."

"Need anything else?" He asked resting his hand on his uninjured shoulder and looking down at him with worried eyes.

"Nah, I'm good," Mickey replied, trying not to stare at Ian's form, so cut and tempting in only his boxer briefs. He wanted to protest when Ian reached to turn off the lamp but Instead he asked lamely, "Are you cold?"

"I'm ok," He assured him, standing awkwardly next to the bed as if he was waiting for Mickey's next request.

"There's space for you up here if you wanna, you know, lay here for a while or whatever," He said trying to sounds nonchalant, but failing epically, "Look cold."

"Remember you saying something about my gangly limbs," Ian reminded him sitting down edge of the bed.

"Lanky," Mickey corrected, biting his lower lip, "Think I'll be alright."

Ian grinned and climbed under the covers, laying on his left side so his body was turned towards Mickey.

"Little help" Mickey grunted trying to turn himself onto his right side. Ian slid his arms underneath of him so he could guide his body. Once he was adjusted their heads were resting on the same pillow, faces only inches apart.

"Hi," Ian said softly, his eyes resting contentedly on Mickey's.

"Hey," He responded, his voice barely audible.

It was as if their lips knew they belonged together, because they found one another before Ian or Mickey could stop them. The kiss was the reminiscent of a whisper, soft and hardly there.

"I can't do this with you again," Mickey said faintly against Ian's lips.

"Kiss me?"

"Us. I can't do it again," His voice was subdued, regretful.

"We can't be over," Ian shook his head slowly, his lips moving from Mickey's, his eyes filling with tears.

"I can't trust you," Mickey said gently, reaching his thumb up to brush away a fat tear that was trickling down Ian's cheek.

"Please, let me prove it to you."

"I'm here now. It's fucking easy, but you're not down for me when shit gets hard. Three times, Ian," His voice cracked and he shook his head trying to steel himself, "Shit's gonna get hard again cause it always fucking does, and then you're gone, and I can't fucking come back from that again."