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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

i wish you'd write a fic where mickey reluctantly goes on a picnic with ian (maybe with their baby girl and dog?)

This is a great excuse for a little more of my new headcanon where they pick up a couple strays. I have to apologize, though, because this is probably not as fluffy as you imagined—there’s a pretty heavy backstory that’s hinted at. I tried to add some cute things too, though!

For the curious, first mention of their oldest daughter Brit (Mickey calls her Brat) here and of the dog, Basil, here.

---

“You want to go on a what?” Mickey asks incredulously as his husband putters around their small kitchen, putting together sandwiches.

“A picnic, Mick,” Ian replies, his head currently stuck inside the open fridge. He pops out long enough to give Mickey a look. “And don’t act surprised, I told you yesterday.”

Mickey holds out his arms, palms up. “Do I look like I knew this was comin’?” He moves out of the way as Ian closes the fridge and rounds the counter, lunchmeat in hand. “I didn’t know you were serious, man!”

Ian sighs, laying ham on bread and reaching for a knife to spread the mustard. “What’s the problem, huh?” he asks. “You don’t want to have a nice day with us?”

“Hey, don’t you do that,” Mickey commanded, pointing a finger at him. “Excuse me if I don’t want to take a toddler and fucking dog to a damn tourist trap.”

Ian rolls his eyes as he finishes the sandwiches, setting them neatly in a piece of tupperware that Mickey doesn’t remember owning. “It’s not a tourist trap, Mick,” he says patiently, “it’s a park. And your daughter wants to go.”

Mickey scoffs, trying not to soften too noticeably. Ian knew he always gave in when he used the d word. “Yeah, she wants to go cause someone showed her a bunch of pictures yesterday.”

“I was trying to keep her occupied, Mick,” Ian says for what feels like the millionth time. “She just saw her mom in the hospital, she needed a distraction.”

“That bitch has never been her mom,” Mickey starts to respond, and Ian glares at him.

“Told you not to say that shit,” he says lowly, casting his eyes around for their daughter. “She doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Relax, she’s in her room,” Mickey tells him, but he stops anyway. Well, stops the name-calling, at least. “But you know I didn’t agree to lie to her, Ian, that’s all your brilliant idea.”

Returning to the fridge to grab a few cold pops, Ian blows out a breath. “And I told you, we’re not lying. We’re just…,” he stands there for a second with the door open, considering, before finishing with, “we’re just holding back a bit until she’s older.”

Mickey’s mouth is twisted, but when Ian comes closer to put a hand against his face, it relaxes. “Just for a little bit, Mickey, ok?” Ian asks softly. “Just let her think she’s a normal kid for a little longer. Longer than we got to.”

And fine, Mickey could do that. He nods.

Ian smiles, pecks him on the lips and pulls away. “Good,” he says. “I’ll go get Brit, you get Basil, and we’ll get on our way in a few minutes.”

Mickey stands still in the corner of the kitchen for a long moment, listening to his husband call out for their kid. “We’re goin’ on a picnic,” he mutters to himself. “With a kid and fucking dog. How the hell did I end up here?”

He whistles, hears the patter of small paws against tile as said dog comes careening around the corner from the living room. Basil comes to a sudden stop against Mickey’s legs and drops his rear to the floor with a thump, tail whipping rhythmically against the wooden counter. Mickey sighs as he grabs the leash off the hook on the wall behind him and bends down to attach it to the dog’s bright red collar.

“At least you’re not wearing a fucking sweater,” he tells Basil solemnly, and sputters when Basil rewards him with a lick across the face.

—

They’re almost there on the L, Brit clinging to Ian’s leg on the crowded train and Mickey trying not to let on that he has a 40 lb dog hidden in giant fucking tote bag between his feet. Thankfully, Basil is great at playing dead—Mickey taught him that one himself—so the biggest difficulty will be carrying him out without getting a hernia.

The kid tugs at Mickey’s pant leg as the train rounds a corner, and he looks down to see her grinning up at him through wisps of dark hair that escaped her messy pigtails.

“Are we goin’ to see the baby?” she asks excitedly, lisping a bit as her tongue hits the space where her front teeth used to be.

“Uh,” he says, looking to Ian for guidance. Ian is pretending not to listen, though, the bastard. He looks back down into his daughter’s dark eyes.

“Not today, Brat,” he tells her, and keeps going before she can pout. “We told you it’s gonna be a while, yeah? Your sister’s not done bakin’ yet.”

“Like a cake!” she exclaims. Mickey sees a little old woman smiling at them, and wonders if she’d think it was so cute if she knew half the story.

“Yeah, like a cake, kid,” he agrees.

“But where are we goin’?” she asks next.

Mickey absently tucks a longer strand of loose hair behind her ear, and answers, “Remember that place your dad was showin’ ya the other day?”

She gives a delighted gasp just as the announcement is made for Lake Station, and when she sees him bend to hoist up the bag they’ve hidden Basil in, she dashes for the now-open doors.

“Hey, wait!” he calls after her, but Ian beats him to the door with his long, unburdened stride, catching up to her quickly and leaving Mickey to deal with everything else.

Mickey looks down into the open tote, and Basil blinks an eye open to look back from where he’s curled around the container holding their lunch.

“Typical,” Mickey mutters, and hobbles off the train in pursuit.

—

Thankfully, the kid was more interested in seeing the gardens and the lakefront than any of the crowded, no-dogs-allowed areas, so after a few quick pics of her fooling around in front of the Bean, they get settled in with minimal fanfare toward the center of the park.

Mickey is leaning back on his elbows on the ratty blanket they brought, picking at his sandwich and watching his little girl run wild over the grass as Ian and Basil chase her, their own meals half-eaten and forgotten beside him. He watches as Ian catches her, the two of them falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs as Basil’s leash wraps around them, the dog running circles around his humans. Mickey laughs when Ian tries to stand and promptly falls back over, having to stop and free his damn giraffe legs from the leash before he tries again.

Ian kisses their daughter on the head and hands the dog off to her as he gets up, heading back toward Mickey. There’s no need to worry about whether she can handle it—Basil may weigh almost the same as her, but the dog had always been careful with her since she came to stay with them more than a year ago.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Ian asks softly as he approaches. He collapses onto the blanket next to Mickey, just close enough to press their legs together. He lets a hand rest between them, and Mickey shifts his weight off one elbow so he can take it, twining their fingers together. His eyes are on their children, the human and the furred, but he can see Ian smile from the corner of his eye.

“Nah,” he murmurs quietly. “Guess not.”

Ian leans in and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, then to his cheek. “Just think,” he whispers into Mickey’s ear, “in a few months we’ll have another one.”

Mickey can’t help but snort. “Yeah, if we can keep her incubator from runnin’ off and overdosing again before then.”

Ian nudges him with his knee, and Mickey looks over with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I didn’t call her a bitch this time,” he points out, and Ian rolls his eyes.

“It’s progress, I guess,” he relents, settling more firmly into Mickey’s side. They sit together, holding hands, and watch Brit and Basil play under the bright noon sun.

“I want to come back once she’s here,” Ian mentions. “The new baby." He turns his gaze to Mickey, eyes soft. "All of us together, as a family.”

“Fuck no,” Mickey vetoes immediately. “You want to do all this with a noisy infant in a shit-filled diaper, you get to do it yourself.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Ian responds, and Mickey groans.

Because he knows if Ian wants it, he’ll be dragging a 40 lb dog, a hyperactive child, and a newborn around the damn park before he can even threaten divorce.

But as he watches his daughter walk their dog on the green grass, his husband reclining beside him on a soft blanket, the sun shining down on him, he thinks about adding a baby carrier to the picture, just there next to Ian. And he has to admit that it might not be too bad.

#fic request #daily speedwrite #in that it was done in one go #not that it was particularly speedy #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #kidfic #original character #Basil Gallagher-Milkovich #Brit-the-Brat Gallagher-Milkovich #dad mickey #dad ian

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shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years

Text

Nickovich pt. 7

“Your fuckin’ what?”

Mickey looks slowly at Trevor and then back to Ian and gives a small humourless snort, tongue firmly in his cheek, scratching the back of his neck.

“My …uh ... boyfriend?”

Trevor lifts the word in a question, glancing between the two men.

“Do you … do you know each other?”

Mickey raises his eyebrows at Ian, who is completely frozen to the spot and doesn’t seem to have even heard Trevor’s question. When Ian doesn’t speak Mickey nods to himself and then grins brightly at Trevor, a smile that is a menacing as it is beautiful.

“Here, take your fuckin’ shirt and shove it up your fuckin’ ass.”

Mickey tugs the too small tee over his head, balls it up and shoves it into Trevor’s arms, hard. Trevor’s eyes flick to the poorly done tattoo on Mickey’s chest and flare wide.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh! This? Don’t worry man, won’t be there long. I can get that shit covered real quick.”

Mickey is still smiling but it’s getting more stretched and Nicky takes a deep breath before putting herself between the two men.

“Hey, put your shirt on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah? You fuckin’ quittin’ your job already?”

Mickey looks down at her, eyes wild and slightly unfocussed but not yet glassy and Nicky is willing him to hold it together until they get outside. It will be easier on his pride if he can hold it together until they are away from the redhead.

“Yeah, man. Fuck this freak show, huh?”

Nicky nudges the crushed shirt in his fist and Mickey quickly tugs it over his head. Ian is still rooted to the spot, his jaw clenched so hard that Mickey can see the muscles standing out starkly against the pale skin. Mickey shakes his head at him. He’s at a loss for words too. He doesn’t mind that Ian has been fucking other dudes … okay, he does mind, but it’s not exactly a shock. But a boyfriend? A fuckin’ committed relationship? Yeah, he minds that. He minds that very fucking much.

Trevor begins to reach out to touch Mickey’s shoulder, offer some sort of comfort or maybe an apology, but as his fingers linger close enough to feel the frantic heat pouring off of the older man, Mickey’s hand comes up and catches his wrist, twisting it slightly in a way that sends shudders of diluted pain up and down Trevor’s entire arm.

“Touch me again, and it will be the last time you use this fuckin’ hand. Do you hear me?”

Mickey’s voice is completely calm, as if he is simply asking a passing stranger for the time. Trevor nods and Mickey lets him go. A little voice at the back of his mind is telling him he cannot afford any trouble. He cannot make a scene, cannot make a fuss. Blend in, mingle, and escape.

“Abe? C’mon. Let’s just go.”

Nicky risks a hand on his forearm and Mickey nods curtly.

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

He snaps, barging Ian with his shoulder, just for the satisfaction of knocking the fucker a little off balance to make up for the chaos he has just shoved Mickey into.

The shock of the contact seems to break the stupor because Ian lunges clumsily after Mickey, hand outstretched, a strangled noise coming from the back of his throat.

“Mickey …”

Mickey half turns but Nicky gets there first and pushes Ian’s hand away firmly.

“No. Not now. You got a phone, use it! Later.”

She adds giving him a stern look that reminds him of Fiona and stops him shoving her aside to get to Mickey, who seems to consider Nicky more than able to deal with the one again mute Gallagher and is resolutely headed down the steps and out the building.

“GOD DAMN … HIM? FUCKIN’ CURLY FUCKIN’ FUCK!”

Nicky flinches as another bottle smashes against the wall and sighs, taking a healthy bite out of her burrito. The insults have not been the most creative and this latest is one of the worst but that’s fine. Nicky has been guarding his phone, after wrestling it away from him before he could smash it, and it has rung three times. Apparently, this Ian guy likes short men and drama because anyone with an ounce of sense would know that ‘later’ meant hours, not minutes.

The abandoned building is clearly familiar to Abe/Mick. He went there without hesitation and there are old beer cans and bottles littered around as well as a decent amount of graffiti. Beside Nicky’s head there is a love heart with ‘I’ on one side and ‘M’ on the other and she’s not a gambling woman but if she was …

“He couldn’t wait even two years? Said he’d wait eight and couldn’t fuckin’ manage two!”

“A person’s gotta fuck, Abe. You know that.”

“Quit calling me that. You heard him and don’t pretend you didn’t. It’s Mickey.”

“Ha! Mickey and Nicky. What a hoot!”

Nicky toasts him with her can of beer and Mickey huffs out an impatient breath.

“This a fuckin’ joke to you?”

“No but are you sayin’ you never banged anyone in the joint?”

“Course I did but they didn’t mean anything!”

“Maybe a boyfriend doesn’t mean anything to Ian?”

Nicky shrugs and then seeing the murderous look on Mickey’s face adds

“Not that you didn’t mean anything but you seem to think the term ‘boyfriend’ is for life. For some people it is, but maybe not for him. Maybe for him it’s just what you call the person you’re banging after a while.”

“Like that fuckin’ paki queerbo Kash. That fucker was married with a couple damn kids and Ian still called him his boyfriend.”

Mickey wrinkles his nose at the thought of that old pervert and grabs another beer

“Ugh. Again with the race hate and the homophobia – I know you’re upset but do you have to?”

“What the fuck does it matter?”

“It matters because it makes you sound like an ignorant asshole.”

“Like I give a shit.”

Mickey mumbles but looks vaguely abashed and stops smashing shit, choosing instead to sit down next to Nicky who scowls at him but moves on

“Anyway weren’t you married with a kid?”

“Yeah but that was while me and Ian were together, not before, and I’m not twenty years older than him and I wasn’t his boss which made it even fuckin’ creepier that Kash started that shit.”

Mickey lists these apparent wins off on his fingers and Nicky nods, deciding it is a knot that is not really worth unpicking. They sit quietly for a couple of minutes both thinking.

“It took me fuckin’ years to call him my boyfriend.”

Mickey says softly, playing with the ring on his beer can, spinning it until it comes away in his hand.

“It’s a bigger deal for you maybe. I bet he was ready a lot quicker, huh?”

“Yeah, no, I mean, he did want to and all … I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Mickey does know. He knows how badly Ian wanted to call him his boyfriend for all that time before Mickey was able to do it. Asshole has always loved labeling shit. Always wanting everything to fit into a nice little box.

“Still shouldn’t fuckin’ have a boyfriend out here though.”

“Maybe or maybe not. Eight years is a long time to wait, even if you love someone.”

“Fuck love.”

Mickey snaps and drains his can, tossing it across the room with a hollow rattle.

“He’s calling again.”

Nicky glances at the burner phone by her side and Mickey looks across but then hastily looks away again, frowning.

“You want me to tell him to fuck off or come over?”

“Just … leave it. I don’t need to hear him tell me it’s over.”

“Might not be you he’s over with.”

Nicky shrugs and holds the phone out to Mickey. They watch it until it stops vibrating and then Nicky places it by her side again.

“He won’t come with me.”

Mickey’s voice is small but firm and Nicky pats his leg reassuringly

“He might. You have come this far. You might as well hear what he has to say.”

Mickey worries at his thumbnail with his teeth and glances over at Nicky as the phone vibrates again.

“Go ahead. I’ll give you some space.”

She hands it over and stands up, wondering if the place will still be in a similar state of disrepair or completely fucking destroyed by the time she gets back.

“Mick?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“What the fuck do y…”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“No, seriously. What are you sorry for? Cheatin’ on me or …”

“I wasn’t … I don’t know. I’m just sorry, okay?”

“What did you tell him about me?”

“That it’s complicated.”

“Oh fu…”

“And that I love you.”

“…”

“Mickey?”

“What?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well are you gonna say it back?”

“No.”

“What the fuck, Mickey?”

“You wanna meet or what?”

“Where?”

“I’ll call you back.”

Nicky pokes her head around the doorway and smiles.

“Safe to enter?”

“Stupid fuckin’ question.”

Mickey answers gruffly but he’s looking happier and Nicky winks at him

“Hey, you’re a scary little fucker when you’re mad. All crazy eyes and heavy tongue – like you could do some serious fuckin’ damage if you wanted.”

“I don’t hit chicks.”

“I remember, a proper gent, but still. Made me edgy so I got donuts.”

“Jesus! Do you ever quit eating?”

Mickey frowns but licks his lip. It’s been a while since he had a donut.

“What kind?”

“You will not believe it …”

Nicky’s eyes are bright and she’s giving him that Gallagher-esque smile again.

“UNICORN SPRINKLES!”

“Ugh! What … why? Fuck sake!”

Mickey pulls a face but peers into the box and takes on with blue and purple icing on it.

“I think they got jelly in the middle but …”

“Not rainbows? Fuck it. I don’t want it then.”

Mickey jokes, his spirits instantly lifted by the insane amount of sugar in the first bite.

“Ha! Second time today I made you happy with my love of unicorns.”

“You don’t love them, you just love that it pisses me off.”

This is a more astute observation than Nicky had credited him with the ability to make and she beams widely.

“True. So what is the verdict with Red? Do we hate him or kind of think he’s okay or …?”

“Both. I dunno. Told curly fuck that he loves me.”

“Shit. Well too bad for Trevor I guess.”

“Don’t mean they broke up.”

“Means they should!”

Nicky snaps and Mickey raises his eyebrows in surprise but doesn’t comment. She doesn’t talk about herself much and Mickey doesn’t want to know. It’s not that he doesn’t care but his skill set has never lain in the realms of patient ear or agony aunt so it would probably just be a waste of her time trying to tell him anyway.

“So when are you gonna meet up, bang, fight, whatever you gotta do?”

“Well I was gonna meet him tonight but where would you go? Van’s not all that big and definitely not fuckin’ private …”

“Make him book a room somewhere.”

“Huh?”

Nicky rolls her eyes and then casts her hand out as if painting a scene for him

“A decent room somewhere. Fuck in an actual bed! Take a shower! … Keep the key card and let me in in the morning so I can take a shower. Order pizza!”

“The cops already questioned him …”

“He’s South Side too right? You Chicago types seem resourceful.”

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fanfiction #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #nicky nichols #nickovich #Milkovich #Milkovich and Nichols #Gallavich

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gentlemenclubbbz · 7 years

Text

changes - Ian

A request in which you’re friends with Ian on a road trip; then you are ‘forced’ to share a bed...

***

“Hey, [name]…”

It was late night, just you and Ian sitting on his porch, sprawled onto your back—the chill air brought goosebumps onto your skin. You hear his voice like in a dream but immediately respond with an “Yeah..?”

“Let’s go on a trip.”

You slowly turn your head towards him, staring at him in confusion. “On a trip?”

“Yeah!” he’s watching the starry sky, not even daring to look at you—but there’s a fond smile of longing on his face. Like he’s envisioning the whole trip before his eyes. “Just me, you and the car. We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re keeping on moving forward.”

‘Just me and Ian?’ you think, hear rate picking up. ‘Alone…’

You didn’t mind that at all.

“What do you say, [name]?” the handsome bespectacled boy glances at you, his smile so beautifully glinting in the moonlight. It made your cheeks go flaming red. “Do you want to come?”

‘How can I say no to you, Ian?’

“Yes…”

“It’s late…” you hum, leaning against Ian’s jeep and staring upwards at the orange and red sky—it was dusk, the sun was setting. You hear Ian rummaging for something in his trunk; whatever he was looking for, he did not found. You shrug, thinking that he didn’t hear you—not as if your words matter. You were just stating the obvious; Ian knew it too. “We should find somewhere to crash…” you sigh, stuffing your face with the chocolate baton you were eating.

You two have been driving all day long—it was only yesterday night that you decided to ‘run away’ from home. And here you were, already so far away into the heart of America. You thought at first that Ian was just joking, that he wasn’t serious. Ignored the proposal until you woke up to him packing up his stuff.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused and at the same time, thrilled at the prospect of you two—friends—going alone on a field trip.

Ian glanced at you as if you were mad. “Didn’t you say you were coming?”

You suddenly sneezed, waking up from the daydream. “I should’ve brought a sweater…” you curse yourself for your hastiness. Ian urged you to hurry up so you only packed a lot of summer clothes like dresses, T-shirts and short pants. Nothing too warm—it was hot enough outside. ‘But not at night, [name].’ You sighed, hugging yourself and rubbing your hands against your arms, glaring at the sky. It wasn’t as if you were mad at Ian for dragging you out—you needed this, needed to…figure out your feelings regarding your friend, Ian. Maybe this might give you a chance to bond and find out a lot of things about yourselves. That’s what Ian wanted anyway, you knew. He wouldn’t have suggested this otherwise, so out of the blue.

You were both searching for answers. And something was bothering him..

“It’s late.” Ian’s voice scares you; but more than that, the thing he puts on top of your head. As you’re struggling to take it off, Ian continues “We should find somewhere to crash.”

You pout at him as you finally look up at him. “That’s what I said…” Ian only looks at you weirdly as he rests his body onto the frame of the car. You huff, avoiding his gaze and hiding your blush when you see that you had his black hoodie in your hands. Such a caring gesture that has your mind run wild with theories: this meant more than just a friendly thing or…? You shake your head as there was no point in thinking about it too deeply.

Ian would never think of you that way.

“Anyway, thanks, I guess…”

He shrugs. “You’re welcome.” He watches you intensely as you put his hoodie on, a bit too big for you, but it was understandable for a guy his size. He’s analysing the way it looked on you; and somehow, he finds that it suited you more than him. This felt…weird? When you finish… “Why didn’t you bring warmer clothes?”

You scowl at him “Because you’re the one that rushed me!”

“I didn’t, stupid! Why are you putting the blame on me?!”

“You’re at fault, obviously! With this stupid trip!”

Ian glares at you behind the lenses of his glasses, annoyance in his eyes—you weren’t entirely mad, you just wanted to vent out your frustration of your inability to bring proper clothing.

“You don’t want to be here?” he asks. “I can drive you home if you want—“

“No. I want to be here.” You say a bit desperate, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry, I’m cranky that I forgot to bring my stuff…”

“You can always borrow mine, cunt,” he ‘affectionately’ calls you, just like he always does. Your friendship was based on insults, so if Ian ever starts to call you ‘sweetheart’ or some gay shit like this, you know that there was something wrong with him. “Aren’t we friends?”

Somehow, the word ‘friends’ was sounding bitter for the both of you.

“…Ok, thanks.”

Silence settles in the atmosphere, interrupted slightly from time to time by the passing of other cars and the sounds of nature. Being in a parking lot on the road, near the forest was calming, sort of: just you and Ian, near the car, hungry and tired, with a little amount of money you knew you have to share…It was exhilarating. You couldn’t wait to see where this is going…

“I’m hungry…” Ian suddenly says, as if he has been contemplating about this a long while.

“Me too,” you add, obviously.

“Let’s go find somewhere to stay for the night.”

“OK.”

“We want a room with two beds.”

The man at the desk looks at the two of you, from the tall stoic Ian to the small sweet you—and his eyebrows immediately raises in question. You gulp, feeling your face getting all red. ‘What the fuck is he thinking we are? We are just friends!’ He didn’t seem to believe so…but why should you care about a random man you’ll never going to see again?

“O-oh, ok, sir. Are you sure you don’t want another room for coupl—“

“Very!” Ian grins widely. You decided in the car that you can put your money together for a cheap room that you can share. Hopefully, the room will have two separate beds. Still, it was slightly embarrassing that the man was suggesting you two are more than just friends… “We’re not like that.”

The man still didn’t seem to believe; and it was getting annoying for you. “Can you please just give us the room?!”

“Y-Yes, I apologize…”

When you finally pay for the room and securely have the key in your hands, you take whatever little stuff you have in your bags and carry them towards your room. You’re the one holding the key as he’s handling the luggage; so you’re the first one to witness how the room looks like. You enter and everything seems fine; clean, airy, lighten—but then you see how the beds are.

The keys drop on the floor as you stop in your tracks, red in the face and hot as if you were in hell. “It can’t…be…” you mutter, not believing your luck.

“Why did you stop?” Ian asks from behind you, pushing past you to walk inside the rather small room. He lets the baggage on the ground, surveys the scene then his gaze stops on you. “Something wrong with it?”

“The—“ you gulped. Was it the right choice to point it out? “The beds…”

He glances at them. “Umm, they’re just beds…”

“Double beds, Ian.”

He blinks, not understanding—until he finally notices your blush. And he opens his mouth in an ‘O’, surprised, realizing what you were implying. Sleeping together in the same bed; as just friends. This could lead to all kinds of unpleasant or pleasant stuff—and you were sure that it wasn’t going to be pleasant. You and Ian?! No way! Even if you were close and best friends, you never slept together in the same bed before. That would be awkward, honestly…Even if you were so deeply desiring it, inside your heart.

“W-Well,” he clears his throat, suddenly turning his head away from you. You couldn’t see, but he was blushing. “There’s nothing we can do now. It’s the cheapest we can afford and…it’s just one night, we’re going to survive…” his voice is weaker, the atmosphere tensing all of a sudden. Growing awkward and filled with some unknown feelings. “…no?”

“Y-yeah…” you finally say, feeling your throat dry. “Let’s just get it over with.” You start to rummage through your baggage, searching for your most ‘sexy’ pyjamas you made sure you bought for certain occasions. Turning your head towards him, you frown “Turn around while I change, stupid.”

“Y-Yeah, ok,” he does so but only after eyeing you over, his mind pondering the possibilities.

You’re quick to change and carefully slip under the covers, making sure to cover any part of your body that Ian could see. Not as if he never saw you in your pyjamas, but in this situation, even normal things seemed weird. You had your back to him, eyes closed in an attempt to make sleep come to you and end this torment—but, if you were dead tired before, it all disappeared now. ‘CURSES!’ you groaned inside your head as you heard Ian changing out of his clothes behind you. You could imagine the way his pants slipped off his ass and down his legs, or how his shirt uncovered that skinny body of his…You’ve seen the scene way too often not to remember how he looked like. And thankfully, you never looked at him as if you wanted to devour him. You learnt to control this fruitless crush you had on the doctor savage of YouTube, Idubbbz.

The lights suddenly turn off and you open your eyes to stare into the darkness. You weren’t even aware that he had finished changing until you hear the creaks of the bed on the other side. You felt as if you were in a horror movie, Ian being the predator and you being the victim. He was looming above you, so close to touch…

‘What is he going to do to me?’ you panicked internally, but you only feel him settling down as far as he could from you. You hoped that he wasn’t on the edge of the bed to give you more space; you’d feel bad about it. But you involuntarily let out a long breath and you steadied your rapid heartbeats—you were even sweating. ‘Oh god…Am I that nervous? It’s just Ian, come on…’

‘Ian the one you like, maybe.’

“Shut up!” you harshly whisper to yourself, pulling the covers to hide your incoming blush.

“Good night, [name].”

Ian’s voice surprises you, but it was also a nice sound. Ian telling you ‘good night’ so sweetly? Like a dream. “N-Night, I-Ian…”

‘Why are you so nervous, dammit?! Act normal! Well, you’re going to sleep anyway…’ You feel him settling into a comfortable position and then silence settled—a deep silence that tells you that Ian was more tired than you presumed. Or maybe you were just not enticing enough to make him think about you that way; too much of a friend to make a move on you. ‘AGH, stop disappointing yourself, [name]!’ you pinched your cheeks, curling into a ball. But still, your heart sunk and your whole enthusiasm. You didn’t want to think about negative stuff while you were in the most wonderful trip; you wanted to make sweet memories, not be so sad about your crush about Ian.

‘Why do I even like this idiot…?’ You had no idea, but you did. And you suffered about it from time to time, mostly at night. And with Ian now breathing down your neck… ‘I can’t fucking sleep.’ You don’t even know how much time has passed since you drifted into your daydream, but you believed it was pretty late. You didn’t even hear him move—you were the only one restless. There’s no sound around…just your breathing.

‘OH fucking Ian, how did I ended up in this situation?’ Frustrated with the whole thing, you decided to turn onto the other side, tired of staying in the same position for hours. When you do, though, you find yourself face to face with Ian. You gasped, taken by surprise by this sudden outcome: you were under the impression that Ian was at the end of the bed, having his back at you. Not…like this, so darn close to you, as if he was seeking your warmth. Your noses almost touched and you were already so far onto the edge to back down. You could feel his breath onto your lips—and it didn’t help you at all. Your heartbeat increased, your face heated up, while Ian just slept, unaware, breathing evenly. ‘How can he stay so calm in this situation, really?!’

Ian suddenly groaned, stirring, and you held your breath: you didn’t want to wake him up and make it all awkward. When you’re sure he won’t wake up, you stand there, staring at his beautiful features. Ian was handsome, with his cheekbones, thin lips and ruffled brown hair—and he looked so vulnerable when he was sleeping. He was different from the cynical Ian you see during the day. It was the Ian you grew to love over the years.

And you yearned for him so badly…

Your fingers twitch, hand moving on their own to rest on his chest. You gulped, feeling rather bold, the heat of the summer getting to your head. ‘What would happen if I kissed him now…?’ passed through your mind, knowing that this was your only chance. Ian slept heavily, he wouldn’t wake up easily. So being so close to him gave you ideas, that you can snatch a kiss from him and be happy about it later. Your hand listened to his heartbeat; strangely, it was high, as if he was awake and aware of your every move. ‘Nah…It can’t be.’ It ignored that and moved further, up his neck, stopping for a few seconds to caress his jaw. Then your thumb start to rub at his lower lip as you craned your neck to reach him better. You stopped half-away, your lips barely touching his, hesitant. ‘It’s now or never, [name].’

‘Do it.’ (Shia Labeouf style)

It was as if he was begging you to do it too; looking so vulnerable, you couldn’t help it. “I like you, Ian…” you whisper with a heavy heart, fluttering butterflies in your stomach, and finally seal the deal. You press your mouth onto his, and you’re surprised by the fact that it fit perfectly together. You’re unsure where to go from this since he couldn’t respond, being not-awake. But you continue to kiss, cherishing every single moment spend glued together; he tasted like Ian would. As strange as it sounded, it was perfect.

The bubble burst when he started to respond. Your eyes pop open, the seduction of the moment gone in a flash; you part away from him, shocked. ‘M-maybe it was just a reaction, maybe—‘ But you find yourself staring into Ian’s hazel eyes, in that dim light—and he’s looking serious.

“Ah!” you gasp, blushing. “I’m really sorry, Ian, I didn’t mean to kiss you, I just did it!”

“Hmm?” he groans, but it was clear he wasn’t sleepy. He has been awake for the whole time, from the start. And judging by the rapid beating of his heart, he wasn’t as indifferent to you as you firstly believed. “What?”

“N-N-Nothing! I just…” A grin flashed onto his face, telling you exactly what he was thinking. “You heard everything, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yeah…” ‘Why are you suddenly growing sheepish, Ian?! I’m the one who should be embarrassed here!’

“UGH!” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over here. I really hope this won’t ruin our friendship, I treasure you more than my feelings, to be honest and I—“

“To be fair,” he interrupts you, arm sneaking around your waist and shyly pulling you over closer to his body. You rest your hands onto his chest, unsure of this. He glances to the side “I’ve been thinking on doing the same…later…maybe...”

“He he…” you can’t help but giggle slightly, resting your forehead onto his collarbones. You two stand there, comforting one another in the fragile feeling of serenity. You had no idea what this meant for your relationship, but…

You liked it.

“So that means you like me too?” you finally ask, just to make sure.

“Y-Yeah, I do…Took me a while to figure out…”

“So that means…?”

“How about we figure things out in the morning?” he yawns, obviously tired—it was getting it to you too now after the whole anxiety disappeared from your body.

“Oh...Ok,” you giggle. “Sounds good.” And with that, you closed your eyes and you’re drifting to sleep right after his lips kissed your forehead.

Things are going to change now...

#ian #ian carter #ian carter imagine #idubbbz #idubbbztv #idubbbz imagine

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