Ian strolled into the room, hands casually in his pockets, whistling a light tune. Mickey looked up, eyebrow raised. "Since when are you so… cheery?" Ian shrugged, trying to suppress a grin. “Good mood, I guess.” Mickey rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a smirk. “You sound like some lovesick idiot.” Ian stopped whistling, stepping closer. “Maybe I am.” Mickey scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah? And what are you so lovesick over, huh?” Ian leaned in, just inches from Mickey's face, and his voice softened. “You.” The whistle started up again as he walked away, leaving Mickey blinking, flustered.

Mickey grinned and leaned against the wall as Ian closed the distance between them. "What's with that look?" Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow. Ian's eyes flickered, a hint of mischief. "I just think we might need more... flavor in what we love to do." "Oh yeah?" Mickey challenged, crossing his arms. "What kind of flavor are we talking about?" Ian leaned forward, his voice low and gentle. "Zesty." Mickey's grin faded, his pulse quickened, but he covered it with a scoff. "You're unbelievable, Gallagher." "Maybe," Ian whispered, his lips sliding over Mickey's, "but you're leaning in, anyway."