Because of Debbie

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It all started because of fucking Debbie. Mickey had been sitting at the table, drinking his orange juice, minding his own business, when Debbie had stormed into the room, making a bee-line to the dark haired boy.

"Mickey, watch this!" Debbie demanded, shoving her phone into his face. Mickey scrunched his nose, pushing her hand back so he could see the screen properly. A video played where a guy with brown hair was sat in a chair playing video games. Mickey watched with a bored expression as a girl entered and climbed onto the boy's lap. Instead of pushing her off as Mickey expected, and would have done if it was him, the boy simply wrapped his arms around her, rubbed her back, and then continued to play the game.

Once the video ended, Mickey glanced at Debbie and shrugged. "What the fuck was so important that you made me watch that for?"

Debbie groaned, tilting her head back. "I want that, Mickey. Why can't the guys I know do that sort of thing for me? All they want to do is bone me or ignore me."

Mickey snorted. He swished his glass so he could estimate how much left over orange juice was just pulp or actual juice. The dryness of his mouth won and he quickly swallowed the rest of the drink.

Debbie looked around the kitchen, noticing no one else was in the room, and turned back to Mickey. "Hey, where is everyone?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't live here."

"You might as well." Mickey frowned at that. "Well, do you know where Ian is?"

"On a run. No way was I going to join him on that. It's his funeral."

Mickey got up and rinsed his glass before setting it in the sink. He checked the time and realized it's been close to an hour since Ian left this morning. He snorted at his lock screen. It was the photo Ian had taken of the sunset on one of his runs. The idiot had been adamant about sending it to Mickey so he could 'be reminded of life's beauty and generosity' or whatever the fuck Ian had gone about.

Mickey smiled and decided to take a shower before Ian got back. There were only so many opportunities to wash in this house.

--

Mickey had never been an affectionate person. Growing up in his house the way you said 'I love you' was to give his sister a titty-twister and his brother a clean needle. No one ever hugged either which was perfectly fine for Mickey. He wasn't some teenage girl at a sleepover, so it came as a shock to him when he realized he liked touching Ian. He liked the way Ian would brush his shoulder with his hand as he passed by him to get more coffee. Or the way he would draw circles on his arm as they lay in bed together after a good round of fucking. Mickey was embarrassed to admit he even liked the way Ian would kiss his cheek before leaving or let Mickey run his fingers through his hair as they watched a movie.

With his fondness of Ian's touch, it really shouldn't have been a surprise that he was tempted to do the same thing as the girl in the video Debbie had shown him a week ago, but yet, he still was. And the opportunity came on a Thursday night when everyone was out of the house except Liam, who was asleep upstairs. Carl was out with Lip, trying to track down Frank for money he stole again, and Debbie was at her friend's house. Ian sat on the couch, playing a new game Carl had snagged from the store the other day. Mickey leaned against the archway into the kitchen, nursing a beer, while he tried hard not to think about that video. It was difficult not to though, what with the way Ian leaned against the back of the couch with his legs spread, almost like an invitation.

Mickey continued to watch from his position, snorting fondly when Ian groaned as he lost another health point. The man was honestly shit at video games; Mickey didn't know why he loved them so much. He bit his lip, wondering if he should really do this, but finally decided fuck it. If he wanted to climb onto his boyfriend's lap, he was going to well fucking do so. The rest of the world will just have to deal with it.

With that in mind, Mickey pushed off the wall and walked towards the redhead. As he reached the arm of the couch, Ian looked at him with a warm smile, and then returned his attention to the TV screen. Mickey shuffled between the coffee table and the couch until he stood directly before Ian. He bent down, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders and straddled his jean clad thighs. Ian opened his arms wide in surprise before chuckling softly. Mickey rested his head on Ian's chest, relaxing his muscles at the familiar thump, thump, thump of Ian's heartbeat.

Mickey assumed Ian would continue to play the game like the boy in the video, so he was pleasantly surprised when he heard the pause of gunfire and felt a kiss being placed on the top of his head. Ian ran one hand up and down his back, while the other cupped the back of his head, playing with his hair every few seconds.

"You okay, baby?" Ian whispered. Mickey would deny it to anyone who asked, but he smiled lovingly at the pet name.

Mickey nodded. Ian grabbed the discarded controller and resumed his game, but not before kissing his forehead one more time. Mickey nestled closer to Ian and breathed in the comforting scent of lingering nicotine and cologne that clung to Ian's skin. He planted a soft kiss to Ian's neck then closed his eyes, enjoying his boyfriend's arms around him. 

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