Chapter Text
Mickey taps his foot on the floor rapidly.
"What's the problem now, Mickey? Can't you relax for a minute?" Ian asks.
"I hate fuckin' waiting, that's all. Lines everywhere." He gestures around.
Ian turns and looks at his lover, who's standing impatiently, his ID in one hand and his rucksack dragging along the floor out of the other. The whole picture makes him smile.
"Yeah, well this is just the first one." He says, hefting their suitcase onto the conveyor, "We have to go through security next. That's always fun. Really though Mick, if you don't like lines, we must be going on the stupidest trip possible. We'll have to wait for everything in New York."
When Debbie had gotten back from her birthday trip, she hadn't stopped talking about how amazing it was. Ian had figured that after so long apart, and now having to stay under the Gallagher roof for a while, he and Mickey could probably use a bit of time to themselves, get to know each other again without everyone being on top of them so Ian had scraped together some of his spare cash and found some cheap flights.
Ian was hoping it would be a surprise but Mickey had found out, spotting the tickets in a bedside draw, not very well hidden under Ian's stash of porn magazines.
After a brief spat - "Like you didn't want me to find these?" "Actually I didn't. What were you looking for porn for anyway?" - Mickey insisted on paying for the hotel.
Ian tried saying no, but eventually, with Mickey's slicked-up fingers inside him, gently massaging his prostate, it was hard to deny him anything. Back arched, eyes rolling back in his head and come spurting all over his chest as Mickey grinned against his mouth, Ian had agreed.
Besides, after ten years at the Kash n Grab plus all of his stuff on the side for Lip, Mickey had actually managed to save a reasonable amount, so Ian didn't have a good argument.
So here they are at O'Hare, awaiting their flight to Newark, Mickey glancing uneasily about everywhere whilst they stand on line for security.
"Mickey, seriously now. You look so suspicious, just stand still!" Ian rests a hand on the back of Mickey's neck and he calms a little although he doesn't relax fully.
Ian moves up close behind him and presses against his back. For a second Mickey leans back into him, and it's enough, but then he's reaching to get his little ziplock baggie out of his rucksack.
As he bends forward his ass rubs against Ian's crotch, and a jolt goes through Ian. Taking a step back, he can feel the familiar heat rising in his face.
Mickey grins at him over his shoulder and Ian's eyes widen as he realises Mickey did it on purpose.
"Can you not do that here? They'll think I've got something to hide!" He protests.
Mickey laughs, "Well you have now." He replies, eyeing the place where the top of Ian's long legs meet.
Stirring more under Mickey's gaze, Ian clenches his eyes shut, willing his hard-on away, and doesn't open them until someone behind nudges him to keep moving.
Holding all his carry-on in his right hand in an attempt to hide his blasphemous tattoo from official eyes, Mickey clumsily passes his boarding card and ID over to be inspected.
Ian watches the guard give Mickey's picture a good look over once, twice then pass everything back, and sees Mickey visibly relax as he heads through to the x-ray machines.
When they're together in line again, he shoulders him. "Stop being so paranoid about everything. Nobody cares about your knuckles."
"I just don't wanna give them any fuckin' excuses that's all." Mickey grumbles.
As it's a domestic flight there isn't much time before boarding so they go straight to the gate.
"Nice of my sister to get us those city pass things huh?" Ian asks.
Mickey shrugs. "Can't we just stay in the hotel and fuck? I don't get what we're paying for it for otherwise."
Ian glances at Mickey, "Um. I-"
"Because I think once you get me in a bed that's bigger than all the shitty little ones we've had to make do with, you won't want me out of it."
Ian shrinks down in his seat, checking to see if anyone has heard. "Jesus Mickey! Can you keep your voice down?"
Mickey leans in close and lowers his voice, "I'm right though."
He watches as Ian swallows, as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
"Aren't I?" He smirks.
Ian turns his head to look at Mickey again. He doesn't need to answer.
Mickey gives a self-satisfied nod and then there's an announcement calling their flight for boarding and all the colour drains from Mickey's face.
Ian is in front in the line this time and doesn't notice Mickey getting jittery again as they get on the plane. He doesn't see Mickey's nervous glance into the open cockpit as they make their way to their seats, and he doesn't hear the way the stewardess - obviously recognising the symptoms - reassures Mickey that it's going to be a quick and easy flight.
Ian is in his seat by the window when Mickey shoves his rucksack in the overhead compartment. As he drops into his seat, buckling his seatbelt as if his life depends on it, he's grumbling to himself and that's when Ian notices something's amiss.
"What's up?"
Mickey looks over at him, "How the fuck does she know how easy the flight will be?"
He starts to drum his fingers on the armrest and Ian sits up, suddenly clued in to what's going on.
"Are you afraid of flying?" Ian is shocked. He can't imagine Mickey being afraid of anything.
"I ain't been on a fuckin' plane before, alright? Leave me the fuck alone." Mickey bites back.
"Alright, sorry." Ian waits a beat before adding, only gently mocking "You want me to hold your hand?"
"Fuck off."
Ian settles back in his chair and they both stay silent while the captain announces they will be pushing back soon.
Mickey grips the safety card tightly, paying vigilant attention to the stewardess as she demonstrates how the life jackets work, and when the automated voice tells them to look for the nearest exits, his head whips around so fast that Ian has to look out of the window to hide his smile.
The plane finally starts moving and as they take off Mickey's legs start bouncing up and down nervously as he stares sightlessly at the seatback in front of him. It takes all of Ian's restraint not to settle a palm on Mickey's thigh to calm him. Seeing him like this is unsettling, but he knows he needs to let Mickey come to him. So instead he relaxes into his own seat, and closes his eyes.
But as the plane starts to level out, and the brief weightless feeling makes their stomachs lurch, Mickey suddenly makes a grab for Ian's hand on the armrest.
Ian's eyes shoot open in surprise, but he's careful not to make any sudden moves.
Mickey starts to fold his fingers underneath Ian's, but instead Ian turns his palm up, and lets Mickey just settle his hand into it, slowly curling his fingers around it.
After that, every time the plane makes any slight adjustment, Mickey squeezes tight.
Ian, leaning back in his seat, inclines his head ever so slightly towards the otherwise unmoving figure beside him, and although Ian knows Mickey's afraid, he can't help the happiness bubbling inside his chest at this different kind of intimacy that he knows he would otherwise not get. He smiles to himself.
Eyes still screwed tight shut, Mickey closes his fingers tight around Ian's again.
"Don't say a fuckin' word."