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Ian had been sitting at the bar when he saw the other man walk in. He was young, but carried himself as though he was much older than he looked. He was smaller than Ian, but Ian wouldn’t put it past him to be strong and built. He had dark hair and something written on his knuckles, but Ian couldn’t see them from here.
The man looked around the bar before hunching in on himself and sitting at the bar. Ian was disappointed he didn’t sit next to him, but this was a guy who didn’t seem to really enjoy the company of others.
Of course Ian was drawn to the guy like a moth to a fucking flame.
“You come here often?” Ian asked sliding onto the barstool next to the guy.
“No.” He either didn’t realize that Ian had dropped one of the oldest lines in the book or he didn’t care. Ian wanted to know which one.
“I do. It’s one of the few bars I like,” Ian said taking a drink of his martini. He preferred beer, but every so often he wanted something else. He knew what he wanted. And that now pertained to the guy sitting next to him.
“Mm,” the guy grunted out and took a dip of the drink in front of him. It looked like a type of ale and from the look on the guy’s face, wasn’t what he ordered.
“Something wrong?” Ian asked.
“Can’t they just serve fucking beer?” He asked.
“It looks like a type of ale,” Ian offered.
“Ale ain’t beer.”
“Yeah, actually is sort of is,” Ian tried. The guy leveled him with a stare and Ian held up a hand. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“You drink that high class shit,” Mickey said gesturing with his head toward the empty glass in front of Ian. “Probably only ever drink ale.”
“Fuck you,” Ian said laughing. “I normally drink beer.”
“Just not tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Ian agreed.
“Special occasion?” the guy asked and Ian couldn’t contain the smile at the fact the guy was playing along with him.
“Sort of,” Ian said. “What brings you here?”
“Sister set me up with someone,” he admitted. “They ain’t here.”
“Just my luck then,” Ian said smirking.
The guy stared at him. “The fuck you just say?”
Ian gestured for the bartender. “Another drink?”
“You seriously expecting me to sit here with a random stranger firecrotch?”
“Ian,” Ian offered. “My name’s Ian Gallagher.”
“Whatever Gallagher. Doesn’t make you any less of a random fucking person.”
“Maybe if you gave me your name,” Ian trailed off. He told the bartender they’d each like another, ignoring the almost fuming man beside him.
The guy finished his drink in one go and Ian read “Fuck” across his knuckles. He thought he might be in love.
“What made you get those,” Ian asked gesturing to his hands.
“None of your fucking business,” the guy snapped trying to turn away from him.
“Since you won’t tell me your name, the least you can do is—“
“It’s Mickey, okay,” the guy said.
“Like the mouse?”
The guy glared at him. The phrase, If looks could kill ran through Ian’s mind.
“Sorry,” Ian said. “I assume it’s short for Michael?”
“Think whatever you want.” Mickey took a drink.
The bartender dropped off their new drinks and Ian told her to put it on his tab. And then close it. What could he say? He was hopeful.
He saw Mickey glaring at the offered drink like it was poisonous. “It’s one drink. It won’t kill you.”
Mickey took a defiant gulp, his eyes never leaving Ian’s. It was strangely intimate and Ian felt like this was something Mickey didn’t do.
“You could thank me, you know,” Ian grumbled but was smiling.
“Fuck you,” Mickey replied.
Ian smirked and leaned to close to Mickey since the bartender was returning with Ian’s card and receipt. “That an offer?”
Mickey nearly choked on his drink and Ian could only smile as he scribbled his name. He could see Mickey finish his beer, his eyes just a little too wide.
He stood up and Ian was thrown. He had thought that maybe something was happening between them. Mickey glanced at Ian, rubbing at his mouth with his hand. “You coming firecrotch? Or you gonna sit there drinking your girly drink all night?”
The bastard smirked and didn’t even look back as he walked out the doors.
Ian hesitated a second after the doors closed. He downed his drink and nearly chased after the other man.
He walked out to find Mickey lighting a cigarette.
“Your place or mine?” Ian asked, clenching his fingers to keep from reaching out and touching Mickey.
“Yours. Unless you want a beating,” Mickey mumbled.
“What?” Ian asked, distracted.
“Forget it,” Mickey said. “Where is this place?”
“My apartment is a few blocks over. You okay to walk?”
Mickey just rolled his eyes and fell into step beside Ian.
“Can I?” Ian asked reaching out for the cigarette between Mickey’s fingers.
Mickey swatted his hands away. “Come on, man.”
“Whatever,” Ian shoved his hands into his pockets. They made the rest of the journey in silence—it was only three blocks away. The entire time Ian could feel something fizzling between them.
“This is me,” Ian said as he walked into the building.
“You’re Southside?” Mickey asked, his eyebrows raised and threw his cigarette butt on the ground.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Ian smirked.
“Just never would have guessed with your girly fucking drink,” Mickey shot back.
“I live here with my brother,” Ian went on as the climbed the stairs to the third story completely ignoring Mickey. “We moved in after he finished college. Needed to have our own place, you know?”
Mickey just hummed and made no attempt at conversation.
“It’s not much,” Ian said as he unlocked his door. “But it’s pretty good.”
Mickey just shrugged out of his coat and glanced around.
“What about you? Where are you living?” Ian asked.
“You wanna chit chat more or you wanna get on me?” Mickey challenged.
Ian smirked and ripped his jacket off. He reached for Mickey and crowded him against the door. He leaned down to kiss him but Mickey turned away.
“None of that shit,” Mickey told him.
“Are you serious?” Ian asked.
“You wanna get laid or not?” Mickey countered.
Ian did. So he shrugged and went about yanking Mickey’s shirt off. Mickey’s hands went to Ian’s waist to undo his belt.
Ian couldn’t take his eyes off Mickey. He also couldn’t get his clothes off quick enough. As he was shrugging out of his own pants, he remembered that he didn’t actually live alone and since Mickey seemed skittish enough, they should probably move into his bedroom.
“We should,” Ian nodded his head toward the back.
Mickey just grabbed his shit and waited for Ian to lead that way. It was the weirdest hookup he’d ever had. There was no kissing, barely any touching, and Mickey almost seemed to act like this was almost a chore. Ian worried that it was going to get weirder.
But Mickey was really attractive and Ian was already in too deep.
He shut his bedroom door behind him and felt more than saw, Mickey’s hands grab at his shirt. Mickey yanked Ian’s shirt off and it was only then that Ian realized Mickey was naked.
“Jesus,” Ian said as he took Mickey’s body in.
“You gonna sit there and stare all night or are you gonna fuck me?” Mickey raised those damn eyebrows and damnit if Ian wasn’t going to do exactly what he asked.
So he pounced, pushing Mickey onto the bed. He wanted to kiss him, god he wanted to kiss him so badly, but he refrained. He just kissed his neck and he worked at his dick. Not like Ian had to work him very long because Mickey was already hard.
“Just hurry the fuck up,” Mickey complained.
And yeah it was weird and quick, but it’s not like either of them had expected anything more. Ian wanted to suck him off, so he started moving his mouth down. Mickey’s hand found his hair and he yanked him back up.
“Jesus, Gallagher,” Mickey said, but there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his blue eyes staring intently at him. But he was frowning and looking exaggerated. “You gonna make me fucking beg?”
“Maybe,” Ian said, but he reached for a condom and lube from the table by his bed. “It’s pretty fucking hot.”
“Whatever, asswipe,” Mickey said but he watched intently as Ian coated his fingers. And then he was fucking groaning and closing his eyes.
Ian worked him for a minute before Mickey glared at him. Ian took the hint and added a second finger.
“Jesus, Mickey,” Ian groaned out as he watched the other man writhe on his bed.
“Get in me,” Mickey demanded.
Ian frowned up at him. “You sure? How long has it been for you?”
“I’m not made of fucking glass,” Mickey snapped.
“Pushy,” Ian said, but he obliged. He reared up and removed his hand before rolling the condom on. He stroked himself as Mickey turned around to rest on his hands on knees.
“You sure you’re ready?” Ian asked again.
“Stop being such a girl,” Mickey complained.
Ian laughed feeling giddy and feverish and like all that mattered was Mickey right in front of him. Which was weird and crazy because he didn’t know Mickey, hadn’t even been able to really touch him. But for whatever reason it was enough, it was fine.
And Ian pushed his way in, all the way, before resting to give them both a second to adjust. Of course, Mickey was impatient and Ian had no choice but to follow his lead—though it wasn’t like he was really fighting it.
Ian gripped at Mickey’s hips and continued to thrust into Mickey, and it didn’t matter that Mickey was barely making any noise even though Ian thrived on confirmation from his partners.
“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian groaned as he threw himself over Mickey’s back. He tried reaching around to grab Mickey’s dick but the bastard was already there. He swatted Ian’s hand away again. But Mickey felt so good and it was intense and Ian couldn’t focus because his vision was hazy and his heart was beating frantically. Mickey was clenching around him and finally, finally moaning and throwing himself down onto the bed. Which only made Ian that much closer to the edge and before he could register that he was already toppling over it and collapsing on top of Mickey.
His fingers were still pressing into Mickey’s hips and he chanced a kiss to Mickey’s neck.
That wasn’t the right thing to do because then Mickey was squirming and pushing him off. Ian sighed and let go of him.
“I’ll go grab a towel and shit,” he offered.
“Yeah, whatever.” Mickey wouldn’t look at him.
Ian just rolled his eyes and grabbed his boxers before walking into his bathroom and shutting the door. He had fought Lip for the master room—and won—besides the fact that Ian had a more stable job and could afford the rent every month if Lip wasn't able to.
He disposed of the condom and cleaned himself up, took a piss, and then pulled on his boxers. He wetted a washrag and walked back out into his room.
It was empty.
He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised but he was disappointed. Ian only sighed and cleaned up his room before falling into bed. He reached for his phone to check it for messages.
There were none, but it wasn’t like Mickey even had his number. Ian just threw an arm over his eyes and breathed. It’s not like the night was a total bust. But it didn’t stop him from feeling like something just slipped away.