#I’m supposed to believe Ian and Mickey never once talked about how Mickey’s first (forced!) marriage was feeding into the groomzilla stuff?

[somestansomewhere]

Frank’s Dementia in 11a

Points to discuss:

Moments where Frank forgot.

Things he might be able to remember.

Other characters finding out.

Aftermath...

So to start of, I made a list of every instance in SEASON ELEVEN A, where Frank’s memory seemed a bit off, I’m not gonna analyze the whole series for this but I’m sure there’s more there. Now:

Moments Where Frank Forgot

11x01

1. Frank’s History of Chicago

While this does appear to imply just the opening monologue, there are actually several moments throughout the episode where Frank is talking about the Gallagher’s running Chicago to Alan. And while this seems like typical “Frank being drunk nonsense”, plus a spectacular opening to the season... I now see it in a different light especially after:

2. Frank’s Memory Elixir

Frank LITERALLY has a line asking for “memory elixir”, meaning booze, which Alan hands him. Ironic since he has ALCOHOLIC DEMENTIA. You can’t tell me that wasn’t intentional!

3. He Forgot Bars Were Closed

Now, I may be reaching here... BUT when Frank enters The Alibi for the first time this season (what a grand enterence btw) he says “I heard somewhere all bars were open again”. V responds by saying something along the lines of “three weeks ago maybe” and that the mayor shut them down again. Frank says “Well who the hell can keep track”. And okay, yeah maybe Frank genuinely didn’t know... but this is the bar he goes to EVERYDAY. Not to mention if they shut down less than THREE WEEKS AGO, Frank should know... idk this one might not count but I added it anyway. Kermit is unaware of bars being open/shut down in 11x03 so moving on:

11x02

4. The Alibi’s Secret Enterence

Okay, again REACHING! However, when Frank entered The Alibi through the Keg Zone door he forgot to use the “secret knock” and Kev had to remind him about it. Now in 11x01 he used the front door (and I’m not sure he knew to use the other door in that ep) but still at least he remembered to use the correct door in 11x02.

11x03

This is where it got noticeable.. strap in, here we go:

5. Taking Franny to School

He took her to the wrong school. This is the same person that knows the Southside perhaps better than his kids (lol), like the back of his hand! He not only took her to the wrong school but a middle/grade school. Franny is in elementary/preschool school. You can see in WHM’s face here that Frank was confused...

6. Uncle V and Aunt Kev

Maybe just a comedic slip up, but Frank calls Kev and V “Uncle V and Aunt Kev” as opposed to what they really are. Maybe he forgot? I’m reaching LOL.

7. Debbie Is Not Fiona

Frank talks about one of his favorite MEMORIES with Franny’s mom: Debbie, but “oh no, maybe that was Fiona”. Small moment, typical Frank but... nonetheless, poor memory. The writers are smart by mentioning Fiona in this scene... it’s “a Fiona mention”, we’re going to remember this, and that’s probably why they did it.

8. The Paper Store

Yeah, this was the first red flag for me and if I can recall, the moment EVERYONE knew something seemed off. Frank, walks out of the paper store with Franny and cannot remember where he is, or where they are headed. Once he is reminded of their “goals” for the day (by Franny, a five year old) he proceeds to head to the paper store... Franny once again let’s him know that they already went there and Frank notices the paper already in his (Franny’s) backpack. Ouch.

11x04

9. The Nation of Islam

Ooo this one hurt! After Frank suggests to visit The Nation of Islam in an attempt to get their help to get rid of the Milkoviches, him, Kev, and Liam do. We SEE them go there. It’s a whole scene, so later in the episode when Frank suggests to go ask them for help AGAIN as if it were a completely new idea, we as an audience know they already did that. As Kevin says they “JUST did that”. Frank forgot. Shit.

11x05

10. Mrs.McCurdy

Frank discusses with Kev about murdering Mrs.McCurdy, later he tries to murder her. We see it, we remember it becaue she grabbed Frank’s dick. It was funny, the scene evoked laughter, it forces the audience to remember it. Frank mindlessly walks into The Alibi and Kev asks Frank if he “did the thing”. Now at first Frank is confused. They were using “quotation talk” earlier so yeah I get it, but then when Kevin is more direct with Frank, Frank thinks Kev is implying that he had sex with Mrs.McCurdy... Frank is clearly confused. Only then does Kev point out that he meant MURDER. Frank takes a second, again if you watch he does not know what Kev is talking about, but then it hits him, and he remembers. Thus continuing the convo like nothing.

11x06

11. Monica

Now this one REALLY hurt. Frank’s first scene of the episode is a sex scene between him and Letty. She’s blonde, and Frank calls her Monica. He truly believes he is sleeping with Monica, only Monica is dead, she been since season seven. When Letty mentions that she isn’t Monica (thinking Frank calling her that was only a sex thing), we see WHM’s brilliant preformence once again. Frank doesn’t know what Letty means, he thinks she’s Monica. Then when he realizes she isn’t, he gets this lost dejected look on his face. He’s confused and knows that he keeps getting confused.

Frank says “I gotta get to work”. Letty asks him where he works and Frank is left bewildered.

12. Seven

Okay so remember Frank and Franny’s adventure in 11x03? Frank visits a dry cleaners to get some weed. They make a point of Franny saying that Frank will pay SEVEN for the weed. No offer is made and Frank must get it somewhere else. Throughout the episode Frank refterences SEVEN to Kev & V as the asking price to sell. We as an audience are forced to remember SEVEN. Also in 11x03, as Debbie frantically looks for Frank/Franny, she visits the dry cleaners where they were (retracing their steps). We as an audience have been there twice.

Now, in 11x06 Frank goes to pick up an order but like, we already saw him go there episodes ago. When the woman behind the counter literally tells him she has nothing for him and he argues with her, WE KNOW she is right. Once again, Frank forgot. I’m so sad. Not only that but Kev and V don’t have Frank going on runs anymore. Ian & Mickey are doing it... Frank is legit lost and forgot that he’s not doing that anymore, Kev tells him he’s not in 11x04.

Ms.G even says to Frank that she doesn’t need to write anything down to remember it because the “Mind’s a steel trap”. She doesn’t owe him... she can use her mind to remember where Frank cannot. The irony.

13. Pedestrian, Blue, Handlebar (abc)

a) Frank getting hit in the head results in him having a visit to the hospital where a nurse discovers that Frank has no clue how he got there and more specifically, how he got hit in the first place.

b) The saddest part, when asked his name he remembers FRANK. But has to look down at her sheet to know his last name is GALLAGHER. This is the man who walks around saying “It’s up to Frank Gallagher to save the neighborhood”. He forgot his last name.

c) The scene goes on, the nurse asks him to remember three words: pedestrian, blue, and handlebar. They discuss other things, then she asks him to tell her those words. It’s so abundantly clear that Frank just cannot. He doesn’t remember. He was told like 30sec ago and gets, for the first time ASHAMED. He’s the most shameless person ever (hence the title of the show) but now the tides have turned. He “doesn’t wanna play this game anymore”. Frank can recognize AGAIN that he is confused, only now he is forced to face it. The nurse noticed, she runs some tests and Frank learns that he has early stages of alcoholic dementia. This isn’t his liver, he can’t get a new one, this is his brain.

14. + 15. Letty & Terry

Just two bonuses, Frank wanders aimlessly into the Alibi again (like in 11x05) because it’s routine for him. Letty calls him over. Frank forgot they were supposed to meet there. :(

Frank and Terry on the porch: Maybe it’s just bad writing or they were trying to make a point but like a “Gallagher-Milkovich War” never happened??? We watched the show for 11 seasons... Also are the Milkoviches actually from Poland Frank? I’ll excuse that one cuz Ian mentioned it too, but I thought they wer Ukrainian. These seem like writing mistakes tho so oops.

Things He Might Be Able To Remember

Frank has his and Franny’s name tattooed on his body... he literally forgot his last name at the hospital. And if he forgets a bunch in 11b then that’ll be the payoff for the tattoo... he might not know why the tattoo is there or who the people are listed on his arm, or even what it means exactly, but he will know that Frank loves Franny.

Where he lives. Frank never threw out the paper with his diagnosis. He might remember his home, however the conflict comes in the fact that the Gallaghers might be selling it. He needs to be around people/places that are familiar to him. This could jeopardize his memory.

The Alibi is where Frank seems to just walk to or go to whenever he has no clue where he is or going but it’s subtle. I could see him getting lost and no one knowing where he is and Frank just being at the Alibi beacuse idk muscle memory? He’s on autopilot.

Early stages of ALCOHOLIC Dementia can improve. Like if maybe Frank were to tell someone and if he wasn’t removed from the Gallagher house, and oh I don’t know if Frank STOPPED DRINKING, he could remember. But I don’t think we’re heading in that direction, especially if the house is sold, and let’s face it... it looks that way.

Fiona? Will he forget her... this all feels reminiscent of 4x11.

Other Characters Finding Out

Franny, Kevin, and Liam, are the only people who have REALLY been subject to the possibility of noticing... but think about it. Franny is too young to notice anything, Kevin is not the brightest bulb, he doesn’t seem to realize it either, and Liam was exposed to it once, but at that time he was so scared about the Milkoviches that he didn’t notice it. Maybe if he saw it again, he would. Liam is smart enough.

I wonder if the Gallaghers will just find out the hard way (,like those stills from 11x08 are making me think,) or if anyone will begin to seriously pick up on it. I intially thought they would show Frank forgetting in front of each character until someone was able to notice but scratch that. They seem to be setting Lip up on the “alcoholic path” this season, (and I may go more into depth about that one another time, it’s another big post if I do get into it). But what will the Gallagher’s reactions/feelings be towards Frank’s diagnosis? Mickey and Ian had many Terry/Frank discussions in 11x06 literally setting up for it. It hurt when they all kept dismissing Frank because yup, they don’t know yet. They would have to help him in order to keep his memory maintained, but that’s the thing... Frank’s pride. He might deny their help even if they actually were to give it to him... Either way, I’m “looking forward” to see how this all unravels and how everyone finds out and what their reactions will be, which brings me to my final topic:

Aftermath...

So what happens? Will they sell the house, potentially causing Frank to forget? Will he not know his kids, his history? Will he die? Will Frank finally stop drinking... yeah I doubt that... So what WILL happen? Will the Gallaghers be left to take care of Frank? Will they even do that? Will he remember them?

What if in 1x01 Frank’s narration IS his memory? We see him talking about his kids to someone? It circles back? I don’t know, but either way I expect this whole thing to pull on our heartstrings. When the rest of the regulars find out... it’s gonna get real, and rough.

Interesting stuff coming up in 11b I’m sure. Let’s see how this plays out for our Protagonist and Patriarch: Frank Gallagher.

Omg, if you read through this, you are so cool and I really really appreciate you! Please send me an ask or write a note, I would love to get your take on the matter. 💙

Hope you enjoyed this analysis and I hope it didn’t go on too long.

[thevioletjones]

34 for prompt list thing! 💖

Thanks! 💜

Prompt 4: “I might never get another chance to say this.”

Now to War

Ian understood why Mickey was still in the closet. That was never really the issue. He was aware of the deeply scary, tyrannical nature of Mickey’s father, and how his horrible ways had left a lasting impression that was hard for him to shake. However, Ian had eventually started to feel a burden that he was frankly sick of bearing.

He’d never asked or expected Mickey to openly date him in front of his own family, but he would've appreciated some kind of quiet commitment where maybe they could at least let Ian’s family in on the secret (Lip already knew, but Mickey didn’t know he knew). Ian’s family had always been supportive when it came to Ian’s orientation. He knew they’d be supportive of Mickey too, even if they didn’t fully understand him, or even like him. They just wanted Ian to be happy.

But Mickey couldn’t even give him that much. He still fucked women to please his dad; still worked as his right-hand man doing illegal shit, instead of forging his own path; still stayed under that disgusting, oppressive thumb with no plans to ever get out from under it. Mickey still just didn’t believe that he could do or be anything different; had resigned himself to this depressing fate of constantly repressing himself for the rest of his life.

Ian just couldn’t stomach it anymore. Part of that was selfish, because yeah, he wanted to have a real relationship that wasn’t full of darkness and drama all the time. But the bigger part of it was about how deeply he cared for Mickey. He hated witnessing what he considered Mickey’s slow demise over a long period of time. If Ian couldn’t convince him that he deserved better, then what exactly was he doing sticking by Mickey’s side? He couldn’t just let himself be a doormat and get treated like shit just because he was in lo—no, he had to stop thinking of it that way.

What was done was done, ancient history style. The last time shit had fallen apart and Mickey had kowtowed to his dad, tossing Ian’s heart in a blender in the process, Ian had ended things. For good. Probably. He was as terrible at staying away from Mickey as Mickey was at staying away from him. He couldn’t even count how many times they’d renounced each other at this point, but he was doing what he could to make it stick.

That’s why Ian had to go and force things to be different now. He couldn’t risk just falling back into the same old toxic pattern with his wayward ex. There were so many good qualities in Mickey that no one else really got to see, but at the end of the day, they couldn’t outweigh the bad enough to strike a fair balance when it came to Ian.

So after much consideration of options, Ian had finally done what he’d always intended, professionally speaking, and signed up for the army.

It had been nearly 8 months now. Basic and AIT had gone well, considering all his years of ROTC, and now he was back home for a brief visit before being deployed for the first time. He was excited to finally be fulfilling his lifelong dream of being active military, but if he said he wasn’t nervous as shit too, he’d be lying. There was a definite fear there in the background of his mind, but he’d always kind of lived for danger in a way. He liked conquering it.

He supposed every soldier went off to war thinking they wouldn’t be one of the ones to die or get severely wounded, and maybe he was an idiot for believing it, but despite that inevitable fear, Ian truly knew he’d be okay. He trusted his instincts and reactions to volatile situations (thanks, Gallagher family trauma), so he had to trust himself. Maybe if he believed in the idea of coming out the other side of combat unscathed enough, he would manifest it.

Still, no matter his sixth sense, there was that feeling of wanting to make sure that he left everything in his life back home in a nice, neat place, just in case he was terribly wrong and never set foot back on American soil again. He needed all of his important relationships to be appropriately cemented. It was easy with his family (well, the siblings portion of it, at least), but Mickey was a whole different story.

Despite having broken it off months ago, the idea of leaving that whole thread hanging felt terrifying. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to feel closure with Mickey, but he had to try. There was a good chance he’d either get mocked, or socked in the face for making overtures, but he had to try anyway.

He felt resolute as he walked toward the Milkovich house, but once it came into view, his insides were consumed with nerves until his gut twisted with the weight of his apprehension.

What if Mickey wasn’t there? What if Terry and a bunch of Mickey’s idiot brothers were laying about? What if Mickey had done the unthinkable and married some random whore so he could pretend he was straight to please his dad? Ian would hope that either Lip or Mandy would’ve informed him of such a development, but since Ian liked to bury things and not talk about them, maybe they’d just decided not to bring it up?

He took a deep breath, muttered, “Fuck it,” to himself, and made his way to the front door. All he could do was try. If Mickey was gone, or had forgotten him, or didn’t care anymore, then he’d just have to accept it and move on.

He gulped thickly as he knocked, hoping that at least Mickey would be the one to answer, and that the ability to form words based on coherent thoughts would manifest as needed.

He steeled himself for whatever might happen, standing with his back straight as an arrow as the door wrenched open.

The moment those ice-blue eyes met his, every single thought flew out of Ian’s head, feeling breathless as blood rushed to his head. Without a doubt, he’d never seen Mickey so surprised before. His ex wasn’t the type to be at a loss for words, but his mouth hung open, and the full irises of his eyes were exposed, eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there studying each other in silence before Ian gained the courage to speak.

“Hi, Mick.”

“Gallagher.” Clear uncertainty permeated his tone.

“Hope it’s not a bad time. Just wanted to talk to you for a minute?”

Mickey crossed his arms and widened his stance, walls going back up. “Been a long fuckin’ time. What, you find out you got an STD or some shit? Come to do the whole benevolent legal disclosure thing?”

One corner of Ian’s mouth lifted in a sad attempt at amusement. “Nah, nothing like that. Can I come in? Or if someone’s home, we can sit out here I guess.”

Mickey scanned him from head to toe, so Ian took advantage and did the same. “Never known you to come over for a conversation before.”

Ian nodded. “Look, I won’t stay long. I really just have something I need to say. Then, if you never wanna see me again, you won’t. I’d just rather not do it awkwardly standing in the doorway if possible.”

Mickey shrugged and walked into the house, leaving Ian to follow. “Whatever, man. No one else is here right now. Terry’s in the slammer, so he won’t barge in or anything.”

“Cool,” said Ian, closing the door behind him.

Mickey sat down on the couch, but Ian had no idea whether to follow or not. Didn’t know how close to get. He hated feeling so weird around Mickey. In spite of everything, he’d always felt a strange sense of comfort and belonging when they were together. Like he could just be himself. Well, a somewhat ‘withholding of affection’ version of himself, but the rest felt natural.

“You gonna sit the fuck down and spit it out or what?” Mickey demanded.

“Right…” Ian took a seat on the sofa, leaving the entire middle cushion between them. “Uh… I don’t really know where to start now that I’m here.” He chuckled nervously.

“Jesus, Gallagher, you fuckin’ dying or somethin’?”

Ian grimaced, unable to tame that tiny pessimistic molecule inside himself. “No. Well, I hope not. Uh, I enlisted.” He looked up from his lap to gauge Mickey’s reaction, pleased to find his expression slipping into something more serious and less put-upon. “I’ve been away training. Shippin’ out tomorrow. Last night home and all that.”

Mickey exhaled raggedly. “Fuck, Ian. The fuck’d you do that for?”

“You know I’ve always wanted to, Mick. Childhood dream and all that. Finally found a reason to bite the bullet, so to speak.”

Mickey ran a shaky hand over his face, snickering derisively. “Wow. So you came here to tell me you’re runnin’ off to get shot, and that it’s pretty much my fault too? That’s real swell of you, Firecrotch. Real nice.”

Ian shook his head. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. It’s not a guilt-trip. I just needed you to know, in case…”

“In case what? You don't come back? You fuckin’ die?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Mickey shot to his feet and started pacing, running his hands through his black hair, and worrying his pink lip. “So what? Now I'm s'posed to lay awake worryin’ about your stupid, army-go-lucky ass every night? That’s not a fuckin’ guilt-trip?”

“No, Mick, it’s not. It’s not really about you, but I couldn’t just leave without seein’ you again. I miss you, okay? I stand by what I did, leaving… still feels like I had to do it… but that doesn’t just turn the feelings off. I thought about you a lot while I was away.”

“Christ, Ian, what are you talkin’ about? Just stop.”

Ian stood up and walked toward Mickey, forcing him to meet his eye without laying a hand on him. “I won’t. Not this time. I might never get another chance to say this, and it would be great if you could just shut the fuck up for once in your life and listen. I don’t care if you have nothing to say to me in return, okay?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, looking very uncomfortable.

“There's a lotta reasons I left,” Ian continued, “but that doesn’t mean that I wanted to, as much as I needed to. You just never let me tell you what I was feeling. Which is fine. I always knew what you were about, and I know why you’re not out. I didn’t want to punish you, I just had to do it for me. Cuz I can’t live like that—”

“Why are you sayin’ all this shit to me now? It’s in the past.”

“I’m just trying to get to the point, fuck. Maybe I’m rambling. I just mean… I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I have to say it just once, and then I’ll go…” Ian took a deep breath, steadying himself for this ridiculous, sincere proclamation. “Mickey Milkovich, I love you. More than anything. And I’ll be thinkin’ about you while I’m over there. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m sure I’ll fade from your mind soon enough, anyway. But I'll remember you. The good stuff, you know? And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but now you know.”

Ian smiled dimly and put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, giving it a short squeeze. “Maybe this was selfish of me,” he added. “It feels good to get it off my chest, though. I hope you get to live your life the way you should one day, Mick. Just, you know… bein’ yourself. Not pretending. Happy; or something close to it. You deserve it.”

Mickey was as still and silent as a statue, probably completely unequipped to deal with all the shit Ian just threw at him, so Ian patted him on the cheek, moving to walk past. Which was fine. He hadn’t expected much more. The point was that Ian had said what he thought and felt, and now he could take that knowledge with him. Hopefully one day, Mickey would get it. Maybe take Ian’s words to heart. Maybe break away and live his truth in some way. And Ian would find his own path too. He was doing what he could to search for it.

He only made it a couple steps, though, before he felt Mickey’s hand slide around his wrist, pulling him back.

“Don’t,” he heard Mickey say softly.

“Don’t what?”

“Just… don’t.”

And then Mickey’s lips were on his for the first time in months, and he couldn’t believe it was happening. His sense memory activated, and he put everything he had into the kiss, in case it was all he got.

It wasn’t all he got, though, because Mickey’s passion matched his own in that moment, and their mutual understanding of each other’s bodies took over. The clothes were coming off before they even made it to the bedroom.

Ian hadn’t expected goodbye sex on his last night in town, but he definitely wasn’t unhappy to receive it… or give it, as it were. What he expected even less than that was Mickey suddenly becoming verbal again.

He was letting him stay the night, and they were practically sharing a pillow, just staring at each other. Not something that had usually been on the menu when they were together.

“Why’d you have to come say all this shit now?” asked Mickey. “When you’re just gonna leave again, maybe for good this time?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“That's not what I mean. I know you’re good at the army bullshit, alright? I’ve seen you shoot. Seen your nerd-ass training. But no one can control bullets and bombs in a war zone, Gallagher. Plus, even if all goes well, you might still settle down somewhere else, right? Go full army life and live full-time on a base somewhere.”

“Are you saying that if I were here you’d want things to be different?”

Mickey sighed, running a thumb over Ian’s cheek in a way that was almost gentle. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Mick—”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do. But…”

“But what?”

“Since we’re talkin’ fuckin’ life and death and all that heavy shit… I should say… that I feel it too.”

“Feel what too?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and smacked Ian’s cheek. “You know what.”

“I really don’t,” said Ian, biting his lip with a mixture of anxiety and glee.

Mickey sighed very loudly, huffing and puffing like saying the actual words would kill him. “I…”

“You?”

“God, I hate you. But I love you. I love your stupid, freckly, gingery ass. And I don’t fuckin’ want you to go off to war, okay?”

Ian’s grin stretched across his entire face. “You mean it?”

“No, I'm fuckin’ lyin’, cuz admitting warm and fuzzies is my favorite sarcastic pastime, asshole.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey tenderly once more. “Will you wait for me?”

“Don’t make me punch you in the face now, dipshit.”

“Will you?”

“Fuck no!”

“Yeah you will.”

“I really won’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

“I think we can squeeze a few more in.”

“You got the shittiest timing of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ian shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Gallagher curse.”

“You stupid motherfucker. Better not die.”

When Ian got on the bus the next afternoon, he felt so much lighter. And the future was something that he looked forward to. Whatever came.

[littlespoonevan]

okay this was really hard to write sdkjafh because i don’t really know how to write trevor’s pov but i tried to keep this as neutral a depiction of him as possible lmao. also i added to the proposal a little bit. it’s just a couple of seconds to let the moment breathe and the addition of one or two more lines but i couldn’t help it ok!!! i’m still not over how we were robbed with the piss poor editing of that scene akjhfds anyway, i hope you like it!!! i also threw in some mickey pov at the end bc i couldn’t help myself 

*

Trevor has been looking forward to this night for weeks.

He’s been listening to Imperial Mammoth ever since he caught one of their very first shows last year when they were gigging around the city. After his buddy had gotten them on the list for the show tonight Trevor had made sure someone else was able to manage the shelter in the morning so he could get good and fucking wasted and enjoy his favourite band.

It’s going well until he catches a flash of familiar red hair.

He shakes the thought away at first. Ian’s supposed to be in prison for two years at least and it’s only been about eleven months since his sentencing – not that Trevor had even spoken to him before that. Getting a clean break from Ian might’ve been shitty but it was the best thing he ever did.

So he ignores it, convinced it’s just a trick of the light, and goes back to enjoying his night.

At least he does until a brawl breaks out.

He’s standing a few feet away by the bar when he hears the first punch being thrown and suddenly a crowd is rushing forward, converging on the two guys fighting. And he can’t help but find his own curiosity piqued – the band’s taking a break anyway – so he moves with everyone else, wondering idly what the source of the fight is.

He shouldn’t be surprised when it’s Ian he finds punching the shit out of some skinny guy beneath him.

He considers stepping in – if for nothing else then for the sake of the guy on the ground – but someone else beats him to it.

“Hey.”

Trevor looks up at the sound; he doesn’t recognise the guy but Ian apparently does because he immediately stops hitting the guy on the floor, sitting back on his haunches and huffing out a laboured breath.

There’s moment of quiet while the guy – Byron, Trevor thinks he heard someone say – quickly scrabbles out of the way with the help of his friends and Ian stays kneeling on the floor, staring up at the guy in front of him.

And it’s funny because as Trevor watches them watch each other he recognises the moment something shifts in Ian’s expression. The way his eyes widen slightly and his breathing cuts off and his features rearrange themselves into something determined. Like he’s just made a decision.

Trevor’s seen that face before and he knows nothing and no one could talk Ian down from whatever the fuck he’s about to do.

Ian’s throat bobs and his gaze fixes on the guy in front of him; Trevor feels his curiosity spike again when he sees the other guy’s expression shift, like he’s just realised what Ian’s about to do. And then Ian’s pushing himself up on one knee.

“I love you, Mickey Milkovich,” he begins.

And that officially explains everything.

The infamous ex. The reason he and Ian crashed and burned. He supposes he’s not shocked they somehow found their way back to each other. Ian was never the same after he came back from him. He’d chased Trevor but even he could see Ian’s heart wasn’t in it. He was doing it because he thought he was supposed to and because he was lonely.

“More than anything,” Ian continues then, expression sincere and voice steadfast. “And I don’t care how scared I am, okay? Loving you fucking beats that because it’s you. It’s always been you and I just- if you let me, I promise-“

“Jesus Christ, save the fucking speech, you pussy,” Mickey says dryly and Ian stares up at him with so much hope in his eyes Trevor almost feels like he should look away.

Mickey huffs out a laugh then, mouth curving up at the sides, and, sounding much softer than his reputation had led Trevor to believe, he says, “I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll fucking marry you.”

The sound that escapes Ian’s mouth is breathless and relieved and Trevor’s not sure he’s ever seen Ian look so happy as he scrambles unsteadily to his feet and reaches for Mickey to crush their lips together.

People in the crowd start clapping but Trevor can only stare, dumbfounded, as Mickey sinks into the kiss, as Ian fingers slide into Mickey’s hair, as they grin against each other’s mouths.

And it’s not- Trevor definitely doesn’t have feelings for Ian anymore – that ship sailed a long time ago – but watching them, it sort of makes him realise that he never really stood a chance. Because he’s pretty sure in all the time they were together Ian never kissed him like that.

The crowd begins to disperse but Trevor finds himself rooted to the spot, watching their kisses peter off until they’re just leaning their foreheads together and talking quietly. Mickey says something that makes Ian laugh and whatever Ian says back makes Mickey kiss him again.

And Trevor knows it’s time to move, to leave them to their moment, but just as he’s about to turn away they break apart and Ian’s eyes land on him.

“Trevor?” Ian says incredulously and Trevor doesn’t miss the way the smile immediately slips off Mickey’s face. So Ian’s told him about him then.

Great.

“Hey,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels. “That was quite a show you put on.”

Ian puffs out a laugh like he doesn’t know whether to be amused or embarrassed. His crutches are still on the floor but he seems more than happy to let Mickey hold most of his weight. Mickey seems more than happy to oblige too if the possessive arm around Ian’s waist is anything to go by.

“Congratulations,” he adds when Ian doesn’t reply, as a peace offering more than anything else.

“Thanks,” Ian says and Trevor watches as Ian’s entire demeanour softens as he turns to Mickey. “Um, this is Mickey.”

“Nice to meet you,” Trevor replies perfunctorily. He considers offering his hand but he doubts Mickey would take it.

Mickey gives him a clear once-over before his hand seems to tighten on Ian’s waist. “You too.”

Trevor flashes him a strained smile and decides that’s enough polite small talk for one night. “I’ll uh, let you two enjoy the rest of your night.”

He sticks around long enough for Ian to nod and then he makes a beeline for the bar.

He needs a fucking drink.

*

“Can’t believe your fuckin’ ex got a front row show to our proposal,” Mickey says as they make their way down the street, keeping one hand on the small of Ian’s back as he hobbles along beside him. “Who else was fuckin’ there? Terry?”

Ian snorts, nudging Mickey half-heartedly with his elbow. “Aren’t you feeling just a little bit smug right now? I already left him once for you.”

And Mickey’s feeling a lot smug right now but still.

Ian stops, effectively forcing Mickey to stop with him and Mickey turns to him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Look, I don’t give a shit who saw or who didn’t see,” Ian says quietly, lifting one hand off his crutch to clutch the front of Mickey’s jacket. “You saw and that’s all that matters. I did it for you, not for anyone else’s benefit.”

Mickey feels a combination of understanding and affection settle in his chest at that.

What you and I have makes me free. Not what those assholes know.

He’d done the same for Ian once. Shouted the truth in front of everyone to prove a point. It’d been for Ian, not for anyone else. (Except maybe himself.)

“I know,” he replies, keeping his voice low and soft as he slides a hand over Ian’s jaw. “I love you.”

He still finds it hard to say it first sometimes but he supposes technically Ian had said it first in the club.

Ian’s smile is beaming as he looks at him and he uses the hand on Mickey’s jacket to tug him into a brief kiss. “Love you too,” he murmurs, voice muffled against Mickey’s mouth, and Mickey believes him. “Let’s go home.”

Mickey nods, lets his hand drop back down to Ian’s waist, and lets his fiancé take him home.

*

[chlorue]

here’s to never growing up

a little shameless fic to sooth your troubles.

Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Description:  It was finally Franny's fifth birthday. What did Ian do? Spent two weeks planning it. The party is full of disapproving PTA moms and a new friend for Ian. Ian had spent weeks planning this party and he was damn well sure it was going to turn out well.

word count: 2,814

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The sun was bright today. The rays shining on the Gallagher backyard. Ian was frantically running around the backyard making sure everything was in line for his niece's 5th birthday. The entire backyard was decked out in whatever leftover party decorations Ian could find in the basement. Small party tables with fun tablecloths were placed around. Balloons were everywhere. Ian found a pile of streamers in Carl's room and placed them on the stairs and tables. There was no necessary theme to the party, it was just Ian felt obligated to go all out. He had Lip get the cake, Liam to get the other food, Carl to get party favors that weren’t weed, and Mickey to keep Franny and Debbie away from the house. So far everything was looking up.

Ian was sitting on the steps looking at his phone waiting for someone to text him that something was wrong. He would look at his phone lock screen every few seconds, see nothing there, and put back down next to him. Finally his phone dinged. He rushed to pick it up. It was from a small group chat he put together.

the one who sold weed once

hey are we serving alcohol at this party????

the one with a son

Nah, half of us can’t even drink, recovering alcoholic and the lithium thing

the smart one

What about all the PTA moms?

the one with a son

They’ll just have to get over it.

Me

Okay, can you all shut up? This is a five year olds party, we’ll be drinking the soda Liam

gets.

It seemed everyone got the message because they stopped texting. Ian sighed and leaned back. He tried to drown out the sound of buzz on the streets. Luckily Frank was nowhere to be found, he hadn’t been for the past few days. Something shocked Ian out of his small trance. There were voices that were familiar coming down the street. Ian stood up to see Tami with Fred on her and Lip a few paces behind her with a white box in his hands.

“Hey fuckwad!” Lip called when he spotted Ian. Tami swatted him, most likely for the language. “Sorry.” Lip apologized. Lip set the box on a table and pulled his little brother into a hug. Ian pulled away and patted Fred on the head.

“Thanks so much for getting this, you two are amazing!” Ian opened the box to see a rectangular pink cake that had swirly white writing. Happy Birthday Franny! It was perfect and Ian let a small weight off his shoulders.

“Eh, you just owe us for Fred’s 5th birthday.” Tami patted her son's head.

“I can do that.” Ian sighed and smiled. They both looked to be doing better. He had heard about the fight they got into at his wedding and was glad to see them back together. Lip had sent him too many pictures of the house and Fred.

The back door swung open, startling all three of them, revealing Carl and Liam. “What’s up whores!” Carl yelled. Lip, Tami, Ian, and Liam collectively sighed.

“We really need to have a talk about language in this family.” Tami sighed. Ian nodded and took a seat at the table. Liam and Carl made their way down with a lot of bags.

They set them on the table just in time for Mickey to stroll in. Liam started pulling bags of chips out and Lip told him where to put it. “Carl, are you just gonna stand there?” Ian cocked an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Carl asked and Ian groaned. Lip saw his brother's stress and took Carl away from the table. Tami took Liam and the rest of the bags away from the poor man.

Another presence slipped into the chair next to him and kissed his head. Mickey. Ian pulled his head up to see his husband. He smiled for a second before realizing. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, comforting my stressed out husband?” Mickey smiled.

“Where is Franny? And Debbie?” Ian looked frantically around the backyard. The party wasn’t really a surprise. Ian had asked Debbie two weeks ago if he could plan it, but Ian didn’t expect to really take over his life. He really wanted to be special for the little girl. “You were supposed to be keeping them occupied!” He groaned.

“Calm down hotstuff, did you happen to look at the time?” Mickey cupped Ian’s face and made him face Mickey. Ian was confused, mad and shocked all at the same time. Once Mickey let him out of his hold Ian pulled his phone from his back pocket. The time read 1:45. The party was starting in 15 minutes.

“Fuck.” Ian sighed. Ian had been so focused on things going wrong he must’ve lost track of time. “I’m sorry, I’m just really stressed. I want her to like this.” Ian pulled his hands down his face and faced his husband.

“Dude, she’s 5, she got excited by my name tag yesterday, I think this will fill her to the brim with joy.” Mickey rubbed his shoulder. Ian felt better knowing Mickey was next to him. “Jesus you are tense.”

“Hey Ian!” Tami’s voice broke through the small silence. “People are arriving!”

“Let them in.” He called behind him. Tami gave a thumbs and went back inside. “Well, our backyard is about to be filled with every mom and her kid from Franny’s school, you ready?” Ian asked.

“Jesus, ready for the dirty looks at my hands? I’m used to it by now, so I guess.” Mickey kissed Ian’s cheek before getting up. “Just, uh, holler if you need help. Please don’t put any more stress on yourself.” Mickey smiled before stomping up the stairs. He was met with the first kid and mom. The mom smiled at him and he smiled back before moving into the house.

Ian sighed and got out of his chair. “Ian! So nice to see you!” The mom smiled as she approached Ian.

“Mary!” Ian faked a smile. Mary Lynn was a god damn bitch. She never liked Mickey or Ian. She would pretend to be nice to them and Franny only to go over to the other mom’s to talk about how horrible they were. Ian pretended not to care, but sometimes he would rant to Mickey about how much he wanted to punch her. “You look great!” No she didn’t. Ian was resisting the urge to pull her fake blonde hair off her head.

"Chelsea here is so excited to hang out with Franny! I can’t believe she’s turning five, they grow up so fast!” She gave the fakest laugh Ian had ever heard. Ian returned it.

“Yeah, we’re excited too!” Ian wanted so badly for this conversation to be over. “You can go ahead and find a seat, Franny will be out soon.” Ian gave one last fake smile and pulled his hand from her grip. He walked in the back door only to be met with six more PTA moms.

Today was gonna be a long day.

-

The party was in full swing now. Franny was running around and playing with her friends while their mothers sat at tables talking. Ian was leaning against the chain-link fence watching his niece run around with a big ass smile on her face.

Another presence took its place next to Ian. He turned to see the dark red hair of his little sister. “Hey, you really didn't have to do this, you know?” Debbie smiled.

“Eh, I didn’t have anything else to occupy my time,” Ian smiled and took a drink from his cup. Debbie patted his shoulder and sighed. “You know, you might want to mingle with the moms over there.”

“Oh, god no. I’d rather not inhale the cheap perfume up close.” Debbie laughed.

“Well them maybe you should go hang out with your daughter, I’m gonna head inside, see what other shit Carl has to drink.” Ian patted his sisters head before walking away. He made his way into the Gallagher kitchen to see the rest of the family scattered through. Liam was plastered by the punch bowls, Lip was by the pack and play with Fred, Carl was sitting on the table, and Mickey was leaning next to the fridge.

“Welcome back,” Carl said, not even looking up from his phone. “Drinks and food are over there, we will be serving cake in 40 minutes.” He deadpanned.

Ian pushed his head, forcing Carl to look up and smile. “Oh, hey man!”

Ian smiled and went over to the counter area, not before throwing his cup away. “Hey, are Kev and V coming?” He leaned over to Liam. He invited the neighbors not only because they were some of his best friends and they loved Franny, but for moral support and help as well.

“Yeah, they just had to close up the Alibi.” Liam sighed and continued to stir the punch. Ian ran his hair through his hair. Then a knock came from the door. “That must be them.” Liam said and turned around.

He was right. Veronica and Kevin were strolling in with Amy and Gemma racing in front of them. “What is up to my favorite people in the world!” Veronica exclaimed as she strutted into the kitchen. Kev waved to everyone, but his attention was clearly on the very eager girls who wanted to get outside and see their friends. “God, it has been way too long!"

“You were two nights ago.” Mickey said. Mickey was now over by the Pac-And-Play with Tami. V shushed and he went back to playing with Fred.

“So Ian, how are you holdin’ up. I know PTA moms can be a handful.” V sighed and placed herself next to Ian.

“I think I’ll be fine with you and Kev here. I texted Fiona earlier for a pep talk.”

“Damn Fi, she always gave some sort of pep talk, shitty or not. They fuckin’ worked.”  V sighed and laughed.

“God, can parents please name their children something fucking normal. I swear I literally just met a kid named Neptune.” Lip groaned as he swung open the door. “Also Ian, some people want to talk to you.”

Ian groaned. V gave his hand a squeeze and he took a deep breath. Time to venture back into the unknown.

-

Ian had been outside for about an hour. Turns out what the mothers wanted to talk to him about was alcohol. Whether he was serving it? Where was it stored in the house with the kids? Ian finally got away from it all. He was sitting in a lawn chair in the shade watching Mickey play with Franny.

“Hey do you mind if I sit?” Ian looked up to see a mom he had never really seen before. She was tall and had blonde hair, like most of them. But this blonde looked real. It was in a high ponytail. Her eyes were blue and her makeup was pretty and subtle. She wore a pink bomber jacket, white undershirt and gray pants.

“Oh, yeah sure, go ahead.” Ian smiled and pointed to the chair next to him.

“Thanks, I was getting tired of listening to Jennifer go on about her failing marriage, and you looked lonely.” The woman smiled.

“Did she tell you the reason it’s failing?”

“No, what is it? Something juicy?”

“Nah, he won’t let her drink more than three tequila shots.”

“That doesn’t seem that bad.”

“ A night. ” Ian smirked and the woman laughed. “I’m Ian by the way.” He held his hand out.

“Amara.” She shook his hand. “This is a really nice party, did you plan it all by yourself?”

“Eh, only a little bit. It’s not like it took up my life for about two weeks.” Ian smiled. Amara laughed. She seemed different from the rest of the moms there. She was fit, like really fit, she seemed a tiny bit dorky, but she was nicer than any of the other moms.

“Tell me about it. When my son turned 4 we held this “small” gathering that ended up turning into a whole block party!” Amara laughed.

“Wow, I feel like that happened when I was like 12. Gallaghers knew and know how to party.” Ian smiled.

“You haven’t seen the chaos that is my company.” Amara smiled. “I’m surprised you aren’t serving alcohol today, PTA moms and all.”

“Oh, basically none of us in this family can drink anymore, other than my little brother and my deadbeat father.” Ian sighed. “My older brother and sister are recovering alcoholics and I can’t drink on my meds. It fucks with my lithium.” Ian takes a swig of the Pepsi in his hands.

“Oh, that sucks. But that’s the South Side for you.” Amara sighed. “My wife and I may have moved to the North Side, but we won't forget the weirdos here.”

“Wait, you’re gay? And South Side?” Ian was now even more interested in this Amara. She was gay. No wonder she was so different then the rest of the moms. And she was raised on the south side. She definitely did not look like it.

“Oh, hell yeah! Most of my company is a part of the LGBT community. And yes, born and raised in a foster home here. That is how I met my wife, Callie. She’s over there playing with our son.” She pointed to a woman with dark skin and brown pixie cut. She was playing with a small boy who looked to be about the same age as Fran.

“Very pretty. My husband and I are born and raised as well. In and out of foster and group homes, though.” Ian smiled.

“You’re gay? No wonder the moms despise and love you.” Amara laughed. “Who’s your husband?”

“Him.” He pointed to Mickey who was now swinging Franny around.

“Oh, is he the one the moms are mad at because of his tattoos?” Amara asked and Ian nodded. “I bet they’re fucking dope, my friend did one of my favorite tattoos.” She pulled her sleeve to expose her wrist. On it was what looked like a heart, but it looked like it belonged to a robot. “I have two more, but they’re on my back.”

“I only have two. One is a military thing, and the other is a set of boobs.” Ian sighed at the memory of the failed tattoo.

“Dope!” Amara beamed and they both laughed. “But why boobs?”

“It was supposed to be a memory of my mother, but it went wrong.” Ian smiled.

“Does your husband have any others, other than the knuckle tats?”

“He has one on his forearm, long story. And my name above his heart.” Ian looked back over at his husband. He was laughing and dancing with Franny. Amara cooed and smiled. “Yeah, he did spell my last name wrong.” He looked over to Amara. She sighed and hung her head back.

Suddenly Franny was in front of them. “Uncle Ian! Let’s do the cake. Pwease?” She gave Ina her best puppy dog eyes. Ian laughed and stood up, hoisting her up.

“You comin?” Ian looked at Amara. She smiled and hoisted herself up, tightening her ponytail.

-

Everything had settled down by 9 PM. Franny was asleep, Lip and Tami left, Liam was downstairs watching TV and Carl was doing who the fuck knows in his room. Ian came into the room from the bathroom to see his husband leaning against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “Well you are a sight for sore eyes.” Ian said leaning against the doorway. Mickey shot his finger up and Ian laughed. He crawled onto the bed and rested himself right next to Mickey.

“Hey, who were you talking to today? The blonde chick?” Mickey started to play with Ian’s hair.

“Don’t get jealous, she has a wife. And her name is Amara, and she is one of the most cool PTA moms I have ever met. She’s South Side too, her and her wife.” Ian smiled at his husband. Mickey looked slightly amused.

“You know, it was really amazing that you did this for Franny, lord know both of us didn’t get the luxury of this.” Mickey sighed.

“Fiona tried her hardest, but I got sick on my 5th birthday.”

“When are you not sick, honestly?” Ian laughed at Mickey’s comment. Mickey smelled nice. A mix of cigarette smoke and soap. It was a smell that reminded Ian of where his home was. He wanted to move out and get a cat and kid with Mickey, but that was a problem for future Mickey and Ian. Ian was focused on Mickey, not realizing that he was slowly falling asleep. He drifted off, but not before pulling Mickey down with him.

“Thank you.”

[oforamuse]

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 4/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he's spent so many years trying to leave behind.

or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

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A moment barely passes before the door swings open, crashing loudly against the wall and Ian falls out into the side alley. His face torn and distraught. 

‘Mickey, I-i’m sorry.’ He says frantically, his eyes searching Mickey’s face for some acknowledgement or understanding. He runs his fingers through his ginger hair and Mickey feels hot anger rise in his chest, he wants to laugh in his face, he wants to scream. 

He can’t do this anymore. 

‘I don’t need your fuckin’ tears.’ Mickey spits through gritted teeth, finally letting himself feel hurt by what he heard, hurt by what Ian did to him all those years ago, hurt by his heart being still so intertwined with the man standing opposite him. It rolls out of him like waves, crashing against the rocks he’s held so dearly close for years. ‘You fuckin’ told me you’d speak to Fiona, tell her that I was coming- you gave me your word.’

He’s so exhausted by being let down by Ian.

‘Mickey-’ Ian steps forward, causing Mickey to jump back, his back pressed up against the bricks. If he touches him right now he might actually burst into flames, or something equally as dramatic.

‘You never fuckin’ keep your word.’ Mickey bites, and it’s devastating. He thinks he wants it to hurt but Ian’s face falls and all Mickey wants to do is take it back, take back his words and crush them in his hands. He doesn’t though, he can’t take them back because there’s part of it that rings true. A big, big part of it. He pushes through, jaw clenched. ‘I’m never fuckin’ good enough, not for you.’

‘I-’ Ian’s mouth gapes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to shape words in his throat. Nothing comes out, which just angers Mickey more. He can’t even deny it, he doesn’t even try.

‘We’re not fuckin’ kids anymore- you think you can just come back in my life, come back here, and fuck it all up?’ Mickey says, and it’s like he’s there again, standing on that front porch with his heart crumbling in his hands. He feels like an idiot, like a fool. ‘You convinced me to come here, you did-’

‘Mickey, please.’ Ian cuts in, his eyes sad and pleading. ‘Listen to me-’

‘This was a mistake, this was a fuckin’ mistake and you know it.’ Mickey spits, his eyes stinging with the unwanted threat of tears. His hands splay out to his sides, he feels wild and finally, for once, out of control. ‘You were all so clearly better off without me. So you know what Gallagher, just go- be on your merry fuckin’ way, you don’t need my shit.’

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Ian counters, ‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Don’t fuckin’ tell-’ Mickey lurches forward and pushes Ian back by the shoulders, ‘Fuck you, fuck you!’

Ian pushes him back and he slams against the brick wall, ‘The fuck is wrong with you!’ Ian cries, and it’s an echo of their adolescent years. Ian holds his forearm against Mickey’s chest, locking him in place so he can’t fight back. He tries, pushing against Ian’s chest but the other man has always been stronger than him.

‘Get the fuck off me.’ Mickey spits, and he swears to God, he’s about to knee this asshole in the dick.

‘What you heard in there was bullshit.’ Ian says firmly, pushing back against Mickey’s efforts ‘Stop fucking fighting and listen to me, asshole. Listen to me.’

‘Fuck you, bitch.’ Mickey growls, doubling up in his efforts to no avail. His hands come up to try and push against Ian’s shoulders, but Ian slams them back down, his back smacking against the brick wall from the force.

They could be 16 again, they could be in the dugouts, or any one of the old dilapidated buildings they’d hang out in. But they’re not, they’re here, years later, and Mickey feels like he could explode.

‘Fiona doesn’t know shit, you know that. I should’ve told her you were coming, I fucked up!’ Ian yells, they’re face to face and so incredibly close that Mickey can feel Ian’s angry, ragged breath on his face. He keeps struggling against Ian’s hold, cursing the fact that even though he’s been working out more, Ian’s still got one up on him. Ian pushes through, his voice earnest and urgent. ‘I fucked up, and I know that- I’ve never been more fuckin’ sorry about anything.’

They both know Ian isn’t just talking about the wedding. It’s heavy and weighted, it’s about everything. Everything they went through as kids, the break up, the cheating, the silence. Apologises are strange and foreign for them, hurt feelings when they were kids used to be brushed off with a stop being a fucking pussy and deal with it. How are they supposed to navigate this? If Ian’s struggling, when he was always the one who wanted to talk about things, how the fuck is Mickey supposed to deal with this?

‘So listen to me asshole, when I say how I would fucking take it back.’ Ian continues, his breath ragged and broken. Mickey’s eyes meet his, shooting up in shock.

‘Take back what?’ Mickey asks, his voice coming out more broken than he’d like. He’s given up. It’s embarrassing but he doesn’t want to let himself believe for a second what he’s hearing, not when it’s been everything he’s wanted for all these years. He can’t put himself through that sort of hope, not again, not after everything.

‘Breaking up with you.’ Ian says simply, finally dropping his arm from Mickey’s chest. He steps back from Mickey and his stomach swirls, already missing, craving, the personal contact. He’s such a pussy. ‘Leaving you in prison...not visiting you because I was a fuckin’ coward.’

‘Ian…’ Mickey whispers, his breath hitching in his throat. His chest feels like it’s about to concave in on itself, it’s overwhelming and crushing. Is he about to pass out?

‘Please, I know you don’t trust me and I know that’s my fault but-’ Ian stops himself and Mickey can’t help watching his lips, hanging onto his every word.

‘But what?’ Mickey presses, his jaw clenched tightly, it comes out broken.

‘It’s always been you, all these fuckin’ years I’ve just been an idiot-’ Ian rambles, but it’s earnest and open and true.  

‘I-’ Mickey tries, his hands pressing firmly into his side so he doesn’t reach out, grab Ian and do something stupid. He swallows, he’s exhausted. ‘You’re just fucking say that, it’s only been a few days, you’ve not seen me for years, Gallagher.’

‘It’s always been you.’ Ian says, and he looks so much like a teenage girl hung up on her crush but Mickey doesn’t even have it in him to make fun of him because this is it. This is everything he’s wanted and all he wants to do is take it into his hands and cradle it forever. Cradle Ian, cradle his feelings for Ian and, when he allows himself to believe it, Ian’s feelings for him.

6 years of waiting, 9 years of nothing and Mickey’s about to throw the towel in and say fuck it.

They’re suddenly interrupted by the door swinging open, it crashes against the wall as it swings and Lip hangs out of the threshold, staring at them. They jump apart like they’ve been shot at and Mickey doesn’t know whether to be grateful or pissed off.

‘If you girls are done, you’re gonna miss the food.’ Lip says, staring at them blankly. His eyes narrow at Mickey before he throws a thumb behind him, ‘Get the fuck back in here or Fiona will be pissed.’

He turns and leaves, and they stay for a moment staring at one another. Neither one making the first move to go.

‘We should- we should get back in there.’ Ian mutters, it’s awkward and it falls out heavily. ‘I know we’ve still got more to talk about.’

‘Yeah.’ Mickey swallows, shifting underneath Ian’s gaze. He takes a deep breath before giving in and throwing a playful punch against Ian’s shoulder, ‘You’re a fuckin’ asshole.’ There’s no bite behind it and luckily Ian takes it that way.

‘Yeah.’ Ian says, ‘but you always loved me for it.’

It’s supposed to land as a joke but Mickey can’t deny the way his stomach drops. He gulps, his heart thumping hard as he allows the word to wash over him. It’s true. It’s always been true, all these years, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Mickey loves Ian, he’s always and he always will love Ian.

Ian stops, his jaw dropped, gaping as he tries to back track the comment, ‘I-’

‘If you say I’m sorry one more time I’m going to punch you in the jaw, you pussy.’ Mickey interrupts, keeping his voice as casual as possible. He squashes down any urge of acknowledging the warm feeling in his chest with the greater need to be inebriated, especially after coming to that realisation, ‘Let’s get so wasted we both fuckin’ hurl.’

Ian shakes his head, almost as if to say thank god that Mickey decided to breeze over his slip up. They’re both exhausted and neither man is ready for that conversation, even if they’re just on the cusp of it and they both know it’s there.

Even if it’s always been there.

They walk back into the building, Mickey finally stopping for a piss to gather himself before they enter back into the main reception hall. Food is being handed out and placed on the round tables, smells of all sorts waft around the room. He sees everyone seated and Mickey stops awkwardly, remembering that the tables had a seating plan with names and he’s unsure where to place himself to sit down.

Ian senses his hesitancy and grabs his upper arm, nudging him back to their table, ‘You’re with me.’ He says simply and Mickey nods, it’s small and shy. He doesn’t know when he became such a pussy, but today’s been too much that he can’t be fucked to deal with it right now.

They go back to the table they’d been at previously and Mickey slides into the seat next to Ian, avoiding the obvious questioning glares from everyone else seated.

Waiters carrying trays swarm around them, balancing food and wine glasses on both arms. Someone places a plate of sausages and potatoes in front of Mickey, it both smells and looks delicious. His stomach rumbles at the sight and he’s thankful for the momentary breather from the rest of the day.

‘Wine?’ The young waiter asks him, he’s holding a bottle of what Mickey can only assume is the alcohol he’s referring to. Mickey doesn’t think he’s ever had wine in his life and he’s definitely not going to choose now to try it.

‘Who’s a guy gotta pay to get a beer around here?’ He says, squashing down the insecurity of being out of his depth. He doesn’t know anything about fucking gay wines.

‘Uh, there’s, uh…’ The waiter flounders, ‘Sauvignon blanc?’

‘Who?’ He asks plainly, his face pulled into a scow. He knows he’s being purposefully obtuse but the way the waiter is staring at him with slightly disgusted curled lip puts him right on the edge. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?, ‘Where the fuck can I find him?’

‘The wine?’

‘He’ll get his own beer, thanks.’ Ian says, leaning over Mickey towards the waiter. Mickey shoves him lightly back and forces a smile at the waiter.

‘You’re getting me my fuckin’ beer.’ He grumbles to Ian, tucking in into the meal in front of him. Ian rolls his eyes fondly and scooches his chair backwards, resigning to get up to the bar. Mickey turns, watching Ian walk away towards the bar.

Fuck, his ass looks good.

A stagnant silence falls on the table, only broken by the clattering of cutlery and the meal to distract them from forced conversation. Luckily Ian isn’t gone for too long, slipping back into his seat next to him with two beers and Mickey suddenly feels like he can breathe again. He hadn’t even realised he’d been struggling, but apparently he had. He passes Mickey an open beer and clinks the side of his bottle lightly.

‘Cheers.’ He says softly, and Mickey smiles. He can keep doing this, even if it’s only for the next few hours, pretend like his world hasn’t turned upside down.

‘One beer, Ian?’ Lip says mid-bite, and Mickey doesn’t like the tone of his voice.

‘Just the one.’ Ian says, shooting his brother an irritated look. Lip raises his arms up innocently before going back to his meal.

‘Looking out for you man...thought you guys were going to miss the food.’ Lip says plainly, without bothering to look up at them, his eyes fixed on his plate below.

‘Missin’ a plate of free food? Not likely.’ Mickey snorts, sticking a fork in the sausage on his plate. He isn’t sure who chose this menu, but he ain’t gonna complain. He eats it quickly, savouring the taste of something that isn’t quick ramen or McDonalds take out.

‘You Milkovichs always were scroungers, weren’t you?’ Lip quips, raising an eyebrow. Ian makes a noise of protest next to him, Mickey puts a hand on his thigh to steady him.

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey says, shovelling in a mouthful of food. ‘You Gallaghers weren’t any better, don’t you fuckin’ forget that.’

‘He’s not wrong!’ Kev pipes up, his silverware clattering down onto his plate enthusiastically. ‘You bastards were always stealing my toaster, or if not my toaster my WiFi connection, or if not my WiFi connection then my wife!’ He laughs, raising his glass and gesturing towards Vee who’s sitting on a different table with Fiona. Her husband’s seated on her other side, as well as who he assumes is her husband’s parents. It takes a second for it to sink in but something washes over him, it’s weird. He realises now, looking around at everyone seated at the table and who he’s met today, there’s a giant drunk elephant in the room.

‘Where the fuck is Frank?’ Mickey asks no one in particular, his thoughts blurting themselves out unhelpfully, and he feels Ian freeze up beside him.  

What the fuck?

‘Six feet under my dude.’ Kevin says simply, placing his hands in a prayer position. There’s an awkward beat and Mickey turns in his chair to face Ian.

‘What?’

‘Yeah, he, uh, he overdosed and passed in the street- no one found him for a few days.’ Ian explains, his face held and Mickey watches his eyes meet Lip’s across the table.

‘Fuck.’ Mickey responds - does he say sorry? He knows it would be a lie considering he couldn’t stand the guy, but he’s not gonna be an asshole. ‘Guys, I-’

‘The fucker had it coming.’ Lip says, cutting Mickey off without looking over which is almost a blessing. ‘He was always going to end up that way.’

‘The docs said he had a shit type of all sorts in his system, so he probably went out on the best night of his life.’ Ian says, smiling slightly and waving his hand dismissively, ‘It ain’t sad, it’s fuckin’ Frank.’

‘Here! Here!’ Kevin crows, raising his glass to which Ian and Lip respond with their own.

‘To the bastard getting what he deserves.’ Mickey says quietly, raising his beer bottle to meet the rest of them in the middle.

After that the rest of the meal passes relatively uneventfully, and by the end of it Mickey feels like he’s eaten enough for a week. He finishes off the dessert, taking a big swig of beer before burping loudly. Tammy gives him a slightly uncomfortable look - does she know what family she’s bought into?

‘Classy, Mick- real fuckin’ gross.’ Ian laughs, giving Mickey’s shoulder a playful shove. Mickey pushes him back, jabbing him below the ribs.

Ian grabs his wrist as it retracts, ‘You ain’t any fuckin’ better, Gallagher.’ Mickey retorts, raising his eyebrows and shaking him off. ‘Do not forget the time you chased me around the house with a used dildo-’ Mickey stops as his breath catches in his throat and he lets the sentence trail off. His stomach clenches. There’s a moment of tense silence between the two of them that takes a second to soften, almost as if they’re both remembering the early days of Ian’s mania, the days when it was still just a thought and not The Thing. Ian looks over at him sadly and Mickey wants to cup his jaw with his hand, but he doesn't. The moment is broken by a tapping of a glass from the other side of the room and the groom stands up, beaming at Fiona. It’s a distraction, at least. 

‘My new wife and I would like to thank you all for joining us today to celebrate our marriage.’ He addresses everyone in the room, his mouth pulled into a wide smile. ‘We wanted to be surrounded by the people that we love and love us- we wanted it to be a celebration of, you guessed it, love!’

Mickey cringes, the guy seems like a complete cheese but if Fiona’s happy then he guesses it can’t be too bad - he hopes the sex is at least good. The guy rattles on about how happy he is to be married to someone like Fiona and blah, blah, blah - Mickey zones out listening to the guy drone on. He knows he probably should make a little more effort to seem interested, but hey, Ian knew what he was signing up for when he invited him here.

‘I didn’t know love until I found you.’ He hears the groom say to Fiona and his fists clench tightly in his lap. He wonders if his nails will draw blood.

'You love him?' Svetlana had asked him, all those years ago.

He did then. He still does now.

The memory washes over him like a wave of ice water as he realises he doesn’t think he ever really knew love until Ian came along, and he’s not sure why it comes as a surprise. Sure, there were moments as a kid when his mum held him close and whispered lovingly in his ears, but she still skipped out on them when she could.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He was definitely not good enough for his father.

Was he good enough for Ian? He sure hasn’t felt like it for the last decade.

‘You make me feel like I can be free to be who I am supposed to be.’

Mickey snorts and has to bite back his tongue, cause pretty he’s sure this white straight guy hasn’t had to hide himself for even a second in his life. What he fuck does he know about being free? What does he know about literally fighting for his life, his freedom, his joy? Has he ever been pistol whipped because of who he loves?

He feels Ian tense up next to him, his hand slipping onto his knee. It sends a spark right up his thigh and burying into his chest. He knows exactly what Ian is thinking about because he’s thinking about it too.

Because you’re not free.

What you and I have makes me free.

And it did, it really did, but that wasn’t enough.

‘We can’t wait to spend the rest of our life together.’ The groom says and there's a collective 'aw' around the room, he ignores it.

Mickey can feel Ian’s eyes on him, and in turn, can feel Lip looking at Ian. He allows himself to look over at Ian and his eyes are sad, they’re so sad. God, how did they have to miss out on so much? His eyes sting, and Ian nods, his eyes are wet too. Fuck, this is a lot.

They never had the chance as kids to think about the future as a them, most of the time it was rushed hand jobs and belts quickly unbuckled. Somewhere when he was 17 years old or so, he turned into a complete fucking pussy for the boy - man, beside him, and as it turns out, Mickey never grew out of it.

The groom finishes his speech and the crowd cheers, but Mickey misses the entire ending because he can’t take his eyes off of Ian, who hasn’t looked away from him once.

‘I-’ Ian begins, his voice low, but Mickey places a hesitant hand over the one on his knee. He gives it a squeeze before retracting it, scooting back into his seat away from Ian’s gaze. It’s a silent ‘later’, and he can see Ian gratefully nod in his peripheral vision. They both silently agree that now is not the time. There’s a bit of a hustle and bustle over at the main table and a new guy stands up who starts a speech about how much he loves the groom.

He has to bite back an audible groan because God, weddings are exhaustingly boring. If he ever gets married, whenever the fuck it may be, it will not be a slog fest.

‘So you guys approve of this guy?’ He whispers, in an attempt to distract himself from his own racing thoughts, leaning over towards Lip, who raises an eyebrow in response.

‘Yeah, Greg’s great.’ Ian answers, nodding at Lip. ‘He founded some sort of start up at some point, it took off.’

‘He’s got a lotta money.’ Lip says, ‘They bought a house.’

‘You guys got rid of that old shithole?’ Mickey whistles, sitting back impressed.

‘We still gotta have somewhere to live, asswipe.’ Lip quips, rolling his eyes.

‘Why should I care about where you live?’ Mickey throws back coolly, narrowing his eyes almost as if to challenge the older Gallagher brother. He knows right now that this is just playful banter, but it could turn ugly relatively quickly and he needs to have the upper hand if it does.

‘Mick-’ Ian puts a grounding hand on Mickey’s shoulder.

‘I mean surely you care Mickey, you freeloaded off of our house for a while there, didn’t you?’ Lip says, and someone from another table leans over and hisses at them to be quiet.

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey bites, his jaw clenching tightly.

‘Lip, easy.’ Ian says, giving his brother a shut the fuck up or I will make you look. Lip backs down, moving fully back into his seat. Freddie makes a noise of discomfort from the high chair he’s in next to Tammy, and Lip leaps up to assist her with their son. There’s an applause around them, and Mickey assumes the guy must’ve finished his speech, he hopes to fucking God they’re all done now.

Turns out he’s shit out of luck because Fiona stands this time, and someone passes her a microphone.

‘My husband and I would like to thank you all for being here with us today, thanks for celebrating and dragging your asses out to New York. There’s some people here that I didn’t think I’d ever see cross Illinois state lines so really, that’s an achievement in itself.’ She says, and the crowd laughs, Veronica lets out a little cheer at her side. ‘Shout out to my family over there!’ She points over at their table and everyone turns to look at them, Mickey shivers.

‘I love my husband, blah, blah, blah - enough with the boring crap, let’s party!’ She cheers, raising up a glass of sparkling wine before downing it in one. Clearly, you can take the girl out of the South Side but you can’t take the South Side outta the girl. Mickey finds himself being pulled up out of his chair by an enthusiastic Ian and swept over to the dance floor meters away, his beer left mercilessly behind. Fiona and her husband walk forward and the crowd moves out to make space. A slow song begins, it’s a pretty melody that he thinks he recognises from some movie. They sway together, eyes only on one another. It would be cute, romantic even, if Mickey didn’t feel like his heart was going fly up his throat and out of his mouth. Almost as if he heard this thought, Ian shifts closer on Mickey’s right side, placing a delicate hand on the small of his back. Mickey physically shivers, but Ian doesn’t remove his touch, if anything, he pulls him in slightly closer. This is too much, this is too much, this is too much. The song ends and everybody claps - why the fuck does everyone clap so much at weddings? - and a high upbeat number starts to play.

‘Okay, laaaadies!’ Fiona calls, spinning out from her husband’s arms as someone leans over to her and hands her her bouquet, ‘and men, we ain’t discriminating here!’ she adds, pointedly looking over at Ian who pretends to tip a hat in response. ‘Let’s go!’

There’s an enthusiastic squeal from the crowd which makes Mickey cringe in towards Ian, blocking his view, which later he’ll blame on the next few moments happening so quickly he can’t keep up.  

She turns around and throws the bouquet high into the air, it goes over her head and soars over the rest of the crowd. Mickey watches as it flies closer to him until it practically smacks him in the face, only saved by his hands snapping instinctively up to catch it before his brain realises what he’s done. He drops the flowers straight down onto the floor, his hands stinging like they’ve been burnt.

Fuck.

Everyone turns to look at him. Had the music not been blasting then they would’ve been able to hear a pin drop with the deafening awkwardness settling in. There’s so many eyes on him. It reminds him of that evening in The Alibi, that day, the I just want everybody here to know i-  

He’s snapped back by some nondescript girl jumping down and scooping the flowers up from his feet, she cheers and runs off into the crowd. Everyone follows suit, barely throwing Mickey another glance as they all start to get ready to dance around him. He’s frozen. The music picks up tempo again but Mickey cannot move. Ian is looking at him from his peripheral vision, there’s something questioning in his eye and Mickey doesn’t like it one bit. It’s a look full of loss, and pain and love and Mickey cannot take his eyes away. People are moving around them, it’s fast paced and loud but neither one of them have moved an inch.

They never discussed marriage ever as kids, it was never ever on the cards, not until Ian spat the laughable idea out to him when they broke up. After what his dad put him through, Mickey thought there would never be a moment he would want to be married again, but in that moment, stuck there on the dance floor with flowers at his feet, he can’t help but wonder. The thought makes his chest hurt and he can’t decide if he’s about to hurl or drop to his knees right in front of Ian.

Ian shifts towards him, turning so they’d be face to face.

‘I guess you’re next-’ Ian starts, and Mickey can’t even appreciate him trying to smooth over the awkwardness with a joke because he needs some air.

‘I need a smoke.’ He says quickly, ducking out before Ian can open his mouth in response.

He shoulders his way through the crowd and practically sprints through the threshold out into the hall. He feels like he’s drowning and he needs to get away from the suffocating feeling of you don’t get to have this . He doesn’t get to have the things he wants, that’s just the way the universe was shaped. He’s sure Mickey Milkovich will always be destined to want things from afar must be written somewhere in the stars. He wasn’t allowed to be himself as a kid, always fighting and scrounging, picking up the scraps. He ran after his father, needing both his affection and the protection of being A Milkovich, which ultimately snuffed out any possibility of freedom in himself.

Until Ian.

Until Ian grabbed him by the hand and pulled him kicking and screaming out into the world of sucking it up and accepting that this is what it feels like to hand over your heart to someone. To bury yourself in someone’s everything and hope the seams don’t rip and the glass doesn’t break.

He leans back against the cool wall, there’s sweat gathering at the nape of his neck and he lets himself breathe. All he feels like he’s done today is run away and breathe, and he can’t believe it because this is what Ian Gallagher turns him into. He’s a hot mess of sweat, and hurt and a lot of love.

9 years and he’s still a mess for this boy, he’d feel completely pathetic if it didn’t make his heart ache.

‘Mickey.’ He hears Ian say, he realises he must’ve followed him out into the hall, but Mickey doesn’t open his eyes. ‘Look at me.’

He’s weak. He’s so weak.

A slower number starts up in the reception, it’s some Ed Sheeran number that was playing on repeat all of last summer and Mickey can’t believe he actually can remember that (he guesses he’s more gay than he pegged himself for). He hears Ian step closer, so close he can smell him. Ian’s hands trail up hesitantly, dusting his fingertips with an offering. An offering of more, an offering of let’s just fucking do this. Mickey opens his eyes, and nods.

They move together slowly, Ian’s arms coming up around Mickey’s neck to pull him in closer. He pulls Mickey off the wall and into the middle of the lone hallway. The Ed Sheeran song still plays through the open door, it’s slow and delicate. They sway, shifting their weight from side to side in time to the music. It’s easy for Mickey to get lost in the sensation, Ian’s arms wrapped around him tightly, the safety he feels and the comfort. Miles and miles away from the panic he felt only moments before. They never got to have this before, they never had their honeymoon phase of adolescent love and casual affection. He can’t stop thinking about how everything between them had always been fiery and intense, blood spilled and hearts broken. Even after he’d finally grown balls and come out, they weren’t able to relish in his new found freedom, since they were thrown head first into Ian’s diagnosis and all that entailed.

‘I-’ Ian starts, shifting his forehead to rest against Mickey’s. They haven’t been this close in years and Mickey’s heart thumps wildly in his chest. He doesn’t know where he starts and where Ian begins. This is all he’s wanted, all he’s craved, every single day since they said goodbye, even when he told himself he was fine. Even after talking himself into the idea that he was over Ian, better off without Ian, that Ian was better off without him.

Even after running away to New York to escape Chicago which he told himself was about not wanting people to know him as a criminal thug forever but he always knew, deep down, that it was about Ian.

His hand comes up to Ian’s neck, trailing delicately through the short hair. Their lips are so close, all it would take is an inch, less than, and Mickey can’t handle it.

They’ve never been allowed to have this. So he gives themselves permission and lets them have it.

He closes the gap between them and Ian makes a pleasant noise of surprise before he responds immediately, opening his mouth invitingly and letting Mickey slip his tongue in deftly. They skip the closed mouthed, chaste polite kisses and jump straight to the wet and messy can’t get enough of each other.

And they can’t.

Ian moans into Mickey’s open mouth which sends blood straight down to his crotch and he has to get closer. He wraps his arm around Ian’s waist just as Ian reaches down and grabs a handful of his ass, pulling him in impossibly close. It’s intimate, and sweaty and so fucking hot.

‘Fuck.’ Mickey grunts, pulling back and catching a ragged breath. It’s only for a moment before he licks his lips and crashes them back together again, because he can’t stay away for one second more. He needs Ian’s lips on him, he needs his hands, his chest and his ass. They drink each other in like they’ve found water for the first time in months after a drought, like they’re being fed after weeks of starvation. It’s desperate and open and reciprocated.

‘Fuck, can we-’ Ian moans, cutting off the thought by circling his tongue around the back of Mickey’s teeth making his toes curl.

‘Fuck me.’ Mickey breathes into Ian’s hot mouth. It’s like they’re kids again, it’s quick and all hands. There’s nothing else on his mind, he needs this, he needs this, he needs this.

‘We can’t leave yet.’ Ian says, the heat in his voice goes straight down to Mickey’s cock, ‘But fuck- I want to.’

‘Let’s just go- they won’t fuckin’ notice us.’ Mickey mutters into Ian’s sweaty neck, before locking his mouth on the curve and sucking.

‘Jesus.’ Ian pants, pulling away and before Mickey throw back a snarky comment about the Holy Lord not being present, Ian grabs him by the wrist and drags him down the hall. He shoves him through the door of the bathroom and spins to lock it behind them. He’s back on Mickey almost instantly, pressing him up against the cubicle door.

‘Right here?’ Mickey quips, before Ian quickly undoes his belt buckle and shoves his hand down Mickey’s underwear. ‘Oh fuck.’

His hands fumble with his belt, shaking as they push the waistband of pants down over his ass. Ian drops down straight to his knees, taking Mickey into his mouth and going down on him enthusiastically. It’s been years and yet Ian knows him still so well, knows every touch that drives him insane. Fuck, it feels good, it’s everything Mickey has fantasised about in the last few years but even better, because it’s real. It’s real and Ian’s mouth is actually on his dick right now going to fucking town, it’s not just his hand or some stranger. His hand comes to rest on the top of Ian’s head, slowly guiding his movements back and forth.

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ Mickey breathes, his head falling back against the wall. His fingers curl in the ginger hair, pulling his head in closer. Ian moans around his dick, the vibrations causing Mickey’s hips to buck forward excitedly, but it doesn’t throw Ian off and he keeps going. ‘I’m close.’ Mickey says, tugging on Ian’s hair to tell him to move off but he doesn’t budge. He can feel it building up in his groin, and if he’s not careful he’s going to come right down Ian’s throat. ‘Ian-’

Ian gruffs in protest, shoving his hands underneath Mickey’s ass to take him in even closer, and Mickey takes it as permission. He comes blissfully, and Ian swallows every single drop. It’s everything he remembers from before and he feels electric. Mickey grabs Ian’s shirt pulling him back up to his height before shoving his tongue into his mouth, his lips swollen and red.

‘Your turn?’ He pulls back, his hands going down to Ian’s buckle.

‘No need.’ Ian says, a low blush rising on his cheeks which Mickey can’t help but find ironic considering he literally just had his dick in his mouth. ‘Already jizzed in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager.’ Mickey laughs and their foreheads rest together, both of them breathing deeply in their relieved state.

Mickey can’t help himself, he pushes forward and takes and takes and takes.

They clean each other up slowly, stopping to press warm kisses against open skin, cheeks, lips and hands. It’s much slower than before, their frantic fiery need satisfied momentarily. They give each other a once over in the bathroom to make sure they don’t look too obvious before making their way back into the reception where the party is in full swing. Mickey can’t help but remember the last time they hooked up at a wedding, it should hurt and it does, he knows it does, but right now all he can focus on is Ian next to him. He feels high, his stomach bubbling, he feels like he could float out of the building and into the stratosphere, not a single fuck to give in the world. He’s not running this time, neither one of them is running - they should talk, he knows they should talk but now is not the time.

Lip sees them and raises a knowing eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Bite me.’ Mickey grunts, though unable to hold back the temptation to smirk.

‘Looks like my brother already did.’ Lip says simply, and Mickey lurches forward but Ian slips an arm around his bicep, holding him in place. Lip rolls his eyes, ‘Chill, dude- everyone hooks up at weddings.’

He rolls his eyes at the older Gallagher brother, God, being around these shits again was exhausting.

‘Can we fuckin’ ditch this thing already?’ Mickey asks Ian, pointedly ignoring Lip. ‘Get the fuck out of here?’

Ian looks at Lip, then over to Fiona dancing in the middle of the room, then back to Mickey. There’s a brief, terrifying moment where Mickey thinks he’s going to say no, but it’s interrupted with Ian pulling a sly grin.

‘Fuck it.’ Ian nods, grabbing Mickey by the wrist.

‘Great family time, bro!’ Lip calls after them, and both men flip him off as they leave the dance floor. ‘Use a rubber!’

They quickly exit the building, shrugging on their coats before Ian steps out and hails a cab. They slide in and Ian barks out an address that Mickey doesn’t quite catch before they’re back on each other again. Ian’s hand sliding up his thigh as he presses slow, wanting kisses up Mickey’s neck. The ride seems to take for fucking ever but at least the driver has the decency to pointedly look the other way. By the time they pull up to the sidewalk, both men are painfully hard and throbbing in their pants.

‘Let’s go, Gallagher.’ Mickey groans as Ian takes his sweet time handing the driver some cash.

‘Patience is a virtue.’ Ian quips, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘I’ll show you fuckin’ virtue, Gallagher.’ Mickey says, grabbing Ian by the hip, his fingers digging into the bone.

‘Oh will you?’ Ian says, pulling Mickey forward even closer. They kiss quickly, open mouthed and wet. Ian pulls away and drags him into the building up and a few flights of stairs. They stumble as they go, unable to contain the mutual want thumping through their veins.

His back hits the door and Ian reaches around him to slip the key into the door, stopping momentarily to drag Mickey’s lips back to his. He gets it open and he shoves Mickey inside by his hips, pressing him up against the wall as soon as they’re across the threshold.

‘Fuck me, fuck.’ Mickey bites at Ian’s bottom lip, bringing it between his teeth. He can’t get enough, it’s been years and he wants more. ‘There a bed in this joint or are we going to go at it right here?’

‘You’d like that wouldn’t you.’ Ian says, leaning forward and licking right up his neck to underneath his ear. He knows it’s a spot that makes Mickey’s knees absolutely buckle. ‘Right here.’ His breath comes out in hot puffs in his ear.

‘Fuck you.’ Mickey says, his hands coming down to unbuckle Ian’s belt and shove his dress pants down to the floor. They both shuck off their suit jackets and they fall into a pile onto the floor.

Ian grabs his upper arm and drags him into a room at the end of the hallway, he shoves him down onto the bed. Mickey grabs the back of his neck, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies right up against one another. His fingers find the buttons on Ian’s dress shirt and he starts unbuttoning them frantically, needing to feel his skin under his fingers.

‘I’ve missed this, fuck- I’ve missed you Mickey.’ Ian whispers, his hands coming up to help Mickey out of his shirt. ‘Need this, need this right now.’

‘Get on with it then.’ Mickey quips, there’s no bite behind it, only the utter lust he feels coursing through him. Ian smirks, leaning over to the side table and coming back with a condom. Mickey squashes the thoughts of Ian with other people and pushes it to the back of his mind, it’s not like he’s been celibate for years. All he can focus on this moment and being with Ian, finally, after everything. Ian preps him quickly, it’s fast and clumsy but neither man particularly cares. They’ve waited for this, they’ve craved for this, and now they finally get to have this.

Ian pushes into him slowly, and Mickey thinks he finally might understand what people are talking about when they use the term ‘religious experience’.

They fuck for long time, Mickey doesn’t know if it’s hours or minutes, or days, they could’ve been going at it for a year straight and it wouldn’t be enough. They come together, it’s almost comical how perfect the timing is, both of them moaning out into the dark bedroom.

‘Fuck.’ Mickey hisses as Ian pulls out of him slowly, and he lets out a little whine at the loss. He’s so fucking sensitive, his veins feel like they’re buzzing with electricity, but he wishes he could stay full forever. Ian pulls him down onto the bed with him, his arms wrapping around his shoulders bringing his face into the crook of his neck. They don’t move, the sweat between their naked bodies sticky and warm.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ian breathes, and it’s so quiet that Mickey almost misses it, barely a whisper. ‘I know, you won’t be able to forgive me, but it’s true.’

Mickey’s on the edge, he’s so close, he could jump. He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how to respond, but he grips tighter. He knows he’s in too deep, that he forgives too easily, but he can’t change that. He’s helpless. Ian inches closer to him, their bodies flush against one another.

His heart thumps in his chest but after a while he hears Ian’s breathing level out, succumbing to a peaceful sleep. He wants to bury himself here, dig deep into the ground and allow himself to stay here forever.

He knows he should have some pride and leave, stand up for himself more and not give in too easily. He doesn’t know how to not give when it comes to Ian, it’s all he wants to do. His breath hitches, and he swallows. He doesn’t know where they’re going to be in the morning, he doesn’t know what they’re going to do. The future is big, scary and full of questions. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing time would stop still and give his brain a chance to catch up with his heart.

Fuck, he sounds like a child. A lovesick, absolutely helpless child. He bites back an exasperated laugh. He’s exhausted. There’s a man in his arms, a man who holds so much power over him, a man who cradles his entire world in his hands. Should he allow him to continue to have that power? That hold? He brings up a hand to rub at his eyes, and Ian makes a quiet noise at the shift of movement, it’s barely audible but it’s there. Mickey wants to hear that noise for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t know what to do, but he knows what he wants to do.

He pulls Ian closer, as close as two humans can possibly get, and lets himself have this.

[awwgallavich]

My Thoughts 10x08

Honestly so much happened this episode. Shameless really fucked with my emotions on this one, so this is going to be kinda long.

Positives:

I truly believe that Ian loves Mickey and I think this episode captured it perfectly. Ian declares his love for Mickey three times ‘we fucking love each other’, but that isn’t just it, his actions demonstrate it too. Although Ian believes he killed Paula his first instinct is to protect him. He gets advice to protect him. Looks for a lawyer to protect him. Wants to get married to protect Mickey. Ian may not have the best intentions with this marriage but he purely wants to protect his boyfriend as much as he can in this situation because he loves him. Ian has no cruel intentions to hurt Mickey he just wants the best for his boyfriend. After the argument Ian immediately goes after Mickey to explain, justify all of this and I think that sums up that Ian does truly love Mickey and panics at the thought of loosing him because of this.

The affection in this episode makes me so happy. My heart genuinely warms at the thought of how far they have come in terms of public displays of affection since season 1. Walking wrapped up in each other’s arms, holding hands, Ian pulling Mickey in for a kiss and Mickey chasing it and the smiles they so openly share. Their relationship is intimate and relaxed. They truly adore each other so much and this displays it so well. Ian continuously initiates this affection in these scenes almost as if to reassure Mickey of his love.

The proposal was beautiful. Ian rambling nervously ‘we fucking love each other’. The smiles they give each other. They are in love and you can’t change my mind. One thing this episode did was deliver some very powerful lines on both characters behalf’s.

Cameron and Noel once again prove they are absolute amazing actors. I am seriously concerned on why Noel hasn’t received an award yet?¿

Negatives:

Ian not signing the papers. I don’t think he was right in his actions by any means but neither is Mickey. Ian wants to marry Mickey but I think this spousal privilege spiralled it into being an immediate priority, whilst Mickey focuses more on the long term meaning of marriage. Finding out Mickey didn’t actually kill Paula meant that Ian no longer needed to rush this marriage for protection and it reinforced the fast pace of this commitment he was suddenly getting into. Ian is clearly very conflicted in his decision not to sign these papers you can see it all in his body language and facial expressions and he doesn’t deserve to be entirely blamed. Ian is impulsive he always has been. The realisation of the commitment hit him and I think he truly began to doubt himself and the motivations he had behind the marriage proposal. I think Ian knows they shouldn’t be getting married because of this. If they are getting married they need to do it properly and I think Ian acknowledges this in his decision.

The mention of Monica and frank highlighted that Ian fears marriage. There’s a small part of him that continuously believes that he might turn into Monica and that scares him. Ian wants to be better than Monica but those insecurities consistently questions his strength to do so. He doesn’t want to maliciously hurt Mickey he’s scared, insecure and I think he wants to protect Mickey from all of that like in season 5 because he thinks Mickey deserves better than that, but sadly this only makes things worse. Although he had no intention to hurt Mickey he should have inevitably realised he should not be marrying Mickey for the spousal privilege and should be doing it for all the ‘others reasons’. I think that just hit him a little to late.

Mickey. Oh wow. He is so heartbroken. Devastated. It’s written all over his face Noel captured it perfectly. But that’s no reason to punch Ian like he did. Honestly I don’t think it was ooc for Mickey to punch Ian. I kind of expected it? It was building up for years. Mickey has been continuously abandoned by Ian and I think this just emphasised his fear of not being enough for Ian. His line ‘is this the only reason you proposed to me?’ literally displays in big bold letters Mickey’s insecurities towards his relationship with Ian. It’s clear that Mickey’s characters has always struggled to deal with emotions, and violence was somewhat of an outlet for him. He was brought up in a toxic household and was taught violence. Do I think this is justification for what he did? Definitely not. He shouldn’t of hit Ian it was impulsive and an act out of pure anger and heartbreak. They should be past this by now. Mickey is obviously distraught he lashed out in the only way he knew how to hurt Ian in that moment because he was so emotionally distressed. He should have instead listened to Ian’s explanation but I understand that in the moment Mickey was at breaking point. It was wrong. I think that although he’s had massive character development that violence will never be completely erased especially outside of the relationship because of his toxic upbringing and I don’t blame Mickey for that in any way.

Mickey still signing the papers even after their argument. He really is committed. He wants Ian no matter what. His voice breaking in the elevator literally shows how vulnerable he is with Ian and how he’s put himself out there for Ian, yet once again it’s thrown back in his face by Ian from his perspective. I think especially since Mickey was forced to marry Svetlana for all the wrong reasons in season 3, meant that Mickey marrying Ian was a huge deal for him. He thought it was for all the right reasons so when he found out it was just for a spousal privilege, it must have felt betraying. Mickey’s not going to listen to Ian in that moment for an explanation. He has it ingrained in his mind that Ian doesn’t want to marry him for love like he thought. However, this is no reason to punch Ian.

Ian consistently calling Mickey a ‘psychopath’ and ‘prone to murder’ just didn’t make sense to me. Mickey has done some questionable things I think we can all agree, but he does not deserve to be diminished down to that. Ian is supposed to love Mickey which I do believe he does but this just seems like a huge contradiction to their relationship and Ian’s whole ‘I trust you’ speech. I’m proud of Mickey for standing up for himself in the courthouse ‘name one person I’ve murdered’.

I think the biggest problem Gallavich have at this point is not one not loving the other enough. It’s obvious the strength of their love for each other. Their devoted to protecting each other. They lack communication. This could have easily been avoided if they spoke to each other and CLEARLY STATED I DID NOT KILL PAULA. Honestly they are the biggest idiots smh. I think Mickey should have listened to Ian before punching him and jumping to immediate conclusions, likewise Ian should have spoken to Mickey about the immediate reasons for the proposal.

The Terry scene. I don’t understand how Terry and Mickey are in the same room without killing each other?¿ The last time we saw them together was when Mickey came out and they had a huge fight so how can they go from that to Mickey wanting advice from him. I understand they are family and Mickey wants to cling to that, but he feared this man for 3/4seasons and suddenly he’s openly asking for advice on his boyfriend. Terry is still homophobic but there’s no surprise there.

Anyway overall I actually quite liked this episode, apart from how Ian broke his leg. I really think what shameless need to do in order to fix this is have them sit down and genuinely talk everything out. Ian leaving Mickey at the boarder, season 5 breakup, Ian cheating and both of their insecurities. Part of me really hopes this fight will be the catalyst for that but it’s shameless so I’m not going to hope to much lmao.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Smokes on You. pt 2

Uhhh. So I got a little carried away here. I was trying to go for chilled out LOL vibes with Mickey and Yevgeny, but it’s late and I’m tired and I got all the feels and then this happened ... Thanks for reading :) xxx

Yev eyed his Pop over dinner. Unlike Dad, neither Pop or Yev were big on conversation when they were eating, preferring to keep their focus on the plates in front of them. Still there was a little chat about school, the neighbourhood, plans for the holidays.

It was easy to observe someone at dinnertime and Yev peered keenly at his father’s fingers, they weren’t yellow but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be soon!

“You want a photo or something?”

Yev startled as Mickey glanced up and after a second, winked at Yev to let him know he wasn’t really annoyed.

“How’d you know I was looking at you?”

Yevgeny was always impressed by just how much Pop noticed, it was as if he had eyes in the back, the top and the sides of his head too. Sometimes Yev tried to sneak things past him just for the fun of seeing how far he could get.

“I’m your Pop, it’s my job to know what you’re up to.”

Mickey grinned and nodded to Yev’s bowl.

“You don’t like your food?”

“Yeah but … um … can you taste yours? Cause smokin’ kills taste buds.”

“I can taste it just fine. Watch…”

Mickey fixed his son with a firm eye and then stuffed an entire meatball into his mouth in illustration.

“Mmmmm! Beefy”

Mickey chewed with exaggerated enjoyment and Yev giggled despite himself and speared his own huge meatball on his fork.

“Yev, don’t. You’ll choke.”

Ian reached across the table and put a gentle hand on the boys arm to stop him copying his father. Mickey covered his mouth with one hand and hunched down, trying to work through the whole thing without gagging. He managed to force the majority of it down his throat and thumped his chest, a little flushed in the face.

“Mother f..ow! Man, that was dumb!”

Mickey croaked. Ian gave him a look of complete agreement and turned to Yev

“Could you get Pop a glass of water please, Yev?”

Once Yev was out of earshot Ian grinned at his boyfriend

“You never choke like that on my balls.”

“Yours are smaller, fuckhead.”

Mickey laughed, grimacing at the ache in his throat

Yev came back into the room and Mickey took the drink he offered, gratefully clapping Yev on the shoulder, a small act which made the little boy beam with pride.

“Thank you, kiddo. Go ahead and finish your food.”

Instead of sitting back down, Yev loitered a minuet, leaning against his Pop with one small elbow propped on a broad shoulder shoulder.

“You know, smoking is bad for the throat too.”

“Nah. I haven’t choked on a cigarette since I was … eighteen and started smoking which was stupid of me.”

Mickey’s gaze flicked to Ian as he spoke. It had taken all of Ian’s persuasion and some very dexterous work with his fingers to get Mickey to agree to fib to Yevgeny about when and how he picked up some of his habits and to flat out not tell him about others.

“It’s okay to stop any time, Pop! Miss Tyler says it’s never too late!”

“Didn’t you learn anything else today? Why are you fussing about this?”

Mickey asked, half turning to glance at him, there was no heat to his words and Yev shrugged openly

“It’s important. Miss Tyler quit last year and she says she never felt better.”

“Yeah? Well Miss Tyler sounds like a know-it-all bit…”

“Bit of a bother.”

Ian interjected quickly. Mickey looked up at the ceiling with an expression that clearly said he also thought Ian was a ‘bit of a bother’. He did not believe in altering the way he spoke around Yevgeny and it irritated him that Ian acted as if the kid would crumble if he heard a bad word cause when Ian wasn’t there, Yevgeny heard plenty of bad words and was fine.

In Mickey’s opinion, the best thing about their little family was that they were all completely free to be themselves. Some of the stuff Yev did made no fuckin’ sense to Mickey at all, like the weird stamp collecting club at school or the obsession with dinosaurs but that was what Yev liked so it was fine. What Mickey liked was swearing, smoking and being with Ian. Yev knew they were gay and was fine with it, but apparently the other two things, things that Mickey had not struggled his most of his life to come to terms with, were now up for debate.

“I have a list …”

“I know you do and I’m sure it’s great, but you also got a half finished plate of food so sit down, eat up and we might talk about it later.”

“Promise?”

“I promise we might talk about it later.”

“Promise you’ll try quitting like Dad is?”

Mickey huffed an irritated breath through his nose and turned to look at his son properly

“I promised we might talk about it. That’s as good as you’re getting. Can you go and sit down already?”

Mickey spoke with finality that made most people think twice and patted the seat of Yev’s pants urging him toward his chair; but Yevgeny was clearly not remotely worried about either thing and stayed put.

“But Pop …”

Ian saw Mickey’s eyes widen, blinking slowly once, a sure sign of his patience truly slipping and intervened.

“Yev.”

Ian inclined his head toward the seat and Yev grudgingly sat himself down but both his fathers saw the way his tongue nudged defiantly at the corner of his mouth.

*He’s definitely your kid!*

*But he got that attitude from you, Freckles*

These thoughts were conveyed between them with a single look over the top of Yevgeny’s head in that peculiar manner that couples who have been deeply attuned to each other for a long while have and both men looked away smiling.

*

Mickey excused himself and stepped out onto the porch while Ian and Yev washed and dried the dishes. He cupped his hands around the lighter and sparked up contentedly.

He could hear Yevgeny’s happy chatter and for a moment he felt a little hurt as Yev tended to be a bit quieter around him. Ian said it was just that he was a quieter person and so Yevgeny responded in kind – that the kid was just parroting Mickey, trying to be more like him, but Mickey wasn’t so sure.

Ian just had such a natural way with him; he managed to make everything into a game or an adventure. Mickey didn’t have that kind of imagination really. When Yev was five and had an imaginary friend, Ian always remembered to put out an extra Eggo waffle and to make sure Yev was holding ‘Patrick’s hand when they crossed the street so he wouldn’t get left behind.

Mickey couldn’t get his head around it at all. He tried to play along but would forget which side Patrick was stood on and ‘step on him’ and even once joked with Yev that they’d left Patrick on the bus which caused a meltdown so extreme Mickey had fleetingly considered handing Yevgeny over to the nearest nice looking lady and just running away.

Now that Yev was a little older things had evened out a bit and Mickey found himself doing more and more of the actual stuff that parents were supposed to do and it was getting easier to join in with the things that interested him. Even the damn stamp collection, weird and pointless as it was, Mickey could help him search the yard sales and stick the findings in his book.

Of course the downside of that was that as the kid got bigger he also took an interest in more of the things that Mickey did – like smoking. Mickey looked down at the cigarette in his hand and sighed. He fuckin’ loved smoking. The first morning drag as he waited for coffee to brew … watching smoke curl out of Ian’s lip after a good fuck … the smell of tobacco on his clothes. Mickey loved all that stuff and he really didn’t want to have to give it up. If Ian hadn’t folded like a wet paper towel then Mickey could have stood firm and not felt like a dick but Yev had been so excited that he’d talked him round … Mickey took another long pull and closed his eyes in bliss.

He would never had dared to try and bitch Terry into quitting cigarettes as a kid or as an adult for that matter. The thought alone made Mickey grin with a grim suicidal humour.

On the other hand, Yevgeny was not afraid of him and that was something that Mickey was both surprised by and incredibly happy about.

Sometimes, like when Yev dug his heels in about stuff, Mickey thought the boy could probably do with being maybe a little less certain about his ability to hold his temper but even as the thought crossed his mind, Mickey knew he didn’t really mean it. He seldom yelled and he never hit him and that was something Mickey was actually pretty proud to be able to say.

When Yev was about six Mickey had seen Svet spank him for some shit … Mickey couldn’t remember what now. Mickey hadn’t massively minded, she was Yev’s Mom and she treated him far better than a lot of mother’s he had seen in South Side, so Mickey had simply stood back and let her handle the kid, but it wasn’t something Mickey had ever done, nor something he would ever do. Svet teased him that he was too soft but Mickey didn’t mind that. Better to be that way than like his own Dad.

Mickey couldn’t remember a time that he hadn’t been afraid of Terry. Even when Terry had taken his side over stuff, fights at school or run-ins with the law, Mickey had always been on edge, waiting for the mood to turn, waiting for a blow or a kick.

The front door creaked open and Ian leant against the doorframe, his body framed in soft yellow light from the house.

“You OK out here?”

“Yeah – didn’t want to light up in front of you.”

Mickey lifted the cigarette in illustration and Ian’s smile widened.

“Thank you but can I get a taste?”

“Seriously? Even I could manage two fuckin’ hours, Ian.”

“I said a taste, not a drag.”

Ian smirked and stepped outside letting the door close softly behind him.

“You should get a jacket.”

Mickey murmured, grinding the butt of the smoke under his boot heel. The embers hissed in the snow for a second and then fell silent.

“Why? I got you.”

Ian’s arms were prickled with goosebumps as they wrapped around Mickey but his lips were warm and he tasted of vanilla cream and cinnamon.

Mickey uncurled his scarf from around his neck and draped it over Ian’s shoulders, licking the taste of vanilla from his lower lip.

“How was that?”

“I didn’t quite catch it, can I try again?”

“Yeah you can try again.”

Mickey smiled, cupping the back of Ian’s head in his palm and trailing his fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm. Damn, Gallagher.”

Ian grinned and ran his thumb over Mickey’s cheek bone.

“You taste fucking amazing.”

“You want one? I won’t snitch.”

“Nah. I said I’d try and I will.”

“You gotta learn to say no to him occasionally.”

Mickey cocked his eyebrow and gently stroked the downy hairs at the nape of Ian’s neck, not ready to let go of him just yet.

“It’s those big blue eyes! He looks at me and I can’t fuckin’ help it.”

“He’s got the same fuckin’ eyes as me, man, and you say no to me all the time.”

“Yeah but he’s not a shit-talkin’ badass like you.”

Mickey grinned and nudged his nose against Ian’s

“You finally admit I’m a badass, huh?”

“When you’re not being a total pussy, yeah.”

Ian murmured, catching Mickey’s earlobe gently between his teeth and biting down softly

“You trying to get me riled up, Gallagher. Push my buttons a little? Get me a little rough with you?”

“Well Svetlana is picking Yev up in an hour and then we have the whole night…”

Ian dropped his left hand to the bulge in Mickey’s pants and squeezed gently, then a little harder.

“Ah fuck!”

Mickey pulled away from Ian’s hand and took a heavy breath

“I forgot Svet had him tonight, I better go look at his fuckin’ list.”

“Might want to give yourself a minute.”

Ian laughed and Mickey snorted

“Yeah. You best go back inside. Tell him I’ll be in in a sec.”

Mickey lit another cigarette and bowed his head and Ian returned his scarf, pausing to kiss him again.

“Later though?”

“Try and fuckin’ stop me, Firecrotch.”

*

Yev gave his Pop the same talk as he gave Dad. He used the list and the laser pointer and showed him the coloured in grave. He’d added some grass and a flower since dinner just to spice it up a bit and Pop nodded along as he spoke. They were sat on Yev’s bed, not all professional like Dad but with their backs against the big T-rex poster and their legs sticking straight out in front, Pops boots hanging over the edge of the little bed so the quilt didn’t get dirty.

“Girls will like you better if you don’t smell all smokey.”

“Why the Hell would I want girls to like me better?”

“Boys then!”

Yev waved his hand impatiently

“I’ve got your Dad, I don’t need anyone else to like how I smell.”

Yev pressed his lips together thinking and then shrugged

“I guess that’s fine. I just don’t want you to get sick.”

“You know old Mrs Henderson, three blocks over? Shitty toffee apples at Halloween?”

“Yeah!”

Yev scrunched his nose remembering and Mickey rolled his head against the wall until he was looking down at him properly.

“She’s ninety-four, smoked every day since she was like, four years old. Never got sick.”

“But you might and then who’s going to make me French toast? Mom’s sucks.”

“Dad would make your toast, listen, you got to remember, most kids around here – they don’t even have one Dad or Pop. You got two! Anything happens to me, you still got your Dad.”

Mickey meant it encouragingly but Yev’s face fell and his little chin started wobbling.

“Hey! Woah!”

Mickey gathered Yev onto his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Yev pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and wiped his nose hastily on the back of his hand, sniffing heavily

“Sorry Pop.”

Mickey frowned and gently took Yev’s snotty hand in his, cleaning it off on his own sleeve.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You wanna cry, you go ahead and cry. That ain’t anything to be ashamed of, Yev.”

“Mama says we have to be stronger than tears.”

Yev sniffed again and Mickey smiled to himself

“I can imagine her saying some weird shit like that. Did she say it in Russian?”

“Yeah.”

Yev gave him a wobbly half-smile and Mickey kissed his forehead lightly

“You know the stuff she says in Russian is mostly old lady voodoo crap, right?”

“Mama says I have to flip you off if you say that anymore.”

“Do it and I’ll bite your finger off.”

Mickey grinned and pretended to tug Yev’s finger toward his mouth finally making the kid laugh.

“That’s better. Now what were the waterworks about, huh?”

Yev shrugged and tucked his head back under Mickey’s chin.

“I don’t want you to die.”

Mickey snorted and sat his son up looking him in the eye

“I ain’t gonna die. In fifty years I’m gonna be some old fart, shufflin’ around in his slippers makin’ you get me French toast for a change.”

“But how do you…”

“You just gotta trust me, Yev.”

Mickey interrupted and that was that.

He picked up Yev’s list and brought it back in front of them.

“One thing though, kid. You have really good writing.”

Yev blushed bashfully and looked up at his father, disappointment already fading

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. Good spelling too. Though I think ‘cancer’ has two c’s. No s’s. But fuck it, you shouldn’t be writing that word at your age anyway.”

Mickey carefully set the list back on Yev’s desk and scratched the back of his neck, considering for a moment. He knew Yev was a sensitive kid but if all this stuff was making him cry … well Mickey didn’t really give a fuck about Miss Tyler’s crusade.

“You know, maybe I’ll think on the smoking thing a little more. You mind if I keep the list to remind me? I could tape it up in my locker at work, show some of the other guys who smoke maybe? Besides, you don’t wanna be worrying about all this shit.”

Yev considered this for a moment and then nodded.

“I can tell Miss Tyler that Dad is going to try. Do you think that will be OK?”

“I think that’s more than OK, Yev. You did great.”

Mickey smiled and carefully folded the little square of paper, tucking it into his jeans pocket.

“I … uh … I love you, Yevgeny. Proud of you too, you know that right?”

The words came out a little husky, Mickey wasn’t used to saying them when the kid wasn’t on the brink of sleep, tucked up in bed with the darkness of the room letting such sentiments be given freely.

“Yes Pop. Love you too.”

Yev squeezed his arms around Mickey’s chest tightly. Mickey felt the back of his throat begin to sting a little and swallowed, twitching his nose and blinking quickly a few times.

A movement caught his eye and he glanced up to find Ian stood in the doorway watching them with an expression on his face that was so tender Mickey almost couldn’t believe it was aimed toward him, that someone who was capable of looking like that might choose to look at him that way.

“Right! C’mon little man. We need to get you packed for your Mom’s place.”

Mickey said brightly and lifted Yev off of his lap, boosting him into the air and catching him deftly under the armpits and putting him on his feet.

“OK Pop.”

Yev went straight to his toy box and started the painstaking process of selecting his plastic dinosaurs the list already pushed to the back of his mind.

*

The waved Yevgeny off, snow drifting down in lazy gusts around them, until Svetlana’s car rounded the corner and then Ian seized Mickey and kissed him deeply, as though he hadn’t seen him for years and he afraid that he would disappear into thin air unless physically held.

“I love you, Mickey. I love you so fucking much.”

Ian gasped the words against Mickey’s mouth and cupped his face reverently between his hands gazing at him with an almost fierce intensity.

“I love you too. You OK?”

“You are an amazing father. I just want you to know that, OK? You are so much better than you think you are and we are really fucking lucky to have you.”

Mickey snorted a little embarrassed but held Ian’s stare and smiled reaching up to dust a little of the snow from Ian’s fiery mop of hair.

“Thank you. You are too. I’m glad he has you. I … I’m glad I have you.”

Mickey looked around, as if suddenly aware that they were stood on the sidewalk in the middle of a gathering blizzard. Ian shook his head as if finally understanding a puzzle where the answer had been in front of him all along and tipped his head back grinning up at the night sky.

“What?”

“Mickey … Mickey, will you marry me?”

“Huh?”

Ian ran his forefinger across the contracted sweep of Mickey’s eyebrows as they arched sharply upward, lifting sever snowflakes with them.

“Marry me, Mick. I want to be shuffling around with you while Yevgeny makes us French Toast when we’re old and you’re still puffin’ through three Lucky Strike packs a day!”

“Are you serious.?”

Mickey licked his lip and gripped the lapels of Ian’s coat, searching his face for something, his eyes darting back and forth before settling on Ian’s mouth and slowly, carefully trailing up to his eyes.

“I am.”

Ian said simply.

Mickey made a strangled sound at the back of his throat and then he was kissing him just as fiercely as Ian had before, hard enough to leave them both breathless and the faint tang of iron between them.

“Yes, I’ll fuckin’ marry you, Gallagher.”

Ian gripped Mickey’s right hand in his own, the other gripping the back of Mickey’s head as the snow swirled around them, neither of them giving a damn about the cold or the darkness, sheltered as they were in each other and in the love that bound them both together so rightly.

[wellimhavinga3outof10day]

Lost Lullabies - Chapter Fourteen

Description: Mickey Milkovich, former child star turned action movie star, runs into his old co-star, Ian Gallagher, out on the street in the middle of a winter night. When Mickey takes him in, he doesn’t realize that Ian has the power to completely turn his new life upside down.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Read on AO3

Filming with Mickey turned out to be a lot easier than Ian had thought it would be. They fell into an easy routine – Mickey picked him up, they filmed all morning, ate lunch together, filmed all afternoon, and then Mickey drove him back to the hotel. Being friends wasn’t as hard as it had seemed a month ago.

           But being just friends with Mickey had its downside. It took a serious toll on Ian mentally and physically. He couldn’t sleep – not that he really wanted to – and he found himself making stupid, impulse purchases of things he thought Mickey would like at three in the morning off of sketchy internet sites. He watched a lot of porn. When porn didn’t do it, he hooked up with the nearest guy on Grindr, almost indiscriminately.  

           Not that he blamed his frustrations on Mickey. He was the one who had wanted just friends. He was the one who had pushed Mickey away. It got harder and harder to see why every day and, more often than not, when the director shot water their way, it landed on Ian’s face.

           If Mickey noticed, he didn’t say anything, but Ian started to pick up on other hints. Mickey would smile whenever Ian got sprayed in the face. He was always asking Ian to spend the night at his place instead of the hotel. When Ian mentioned an interest, Mickey almost always came back the next day having read up on it or with some small gift for Ian related to it. Ian, on the other hand, could never get up the courage to actually give Mickey one of the million things he had bought for him.

           As Christmas neared, filming started to taper off and Ian found himself more and more lonely. He remembered the feeling of being on the TV show – how every season wrapped felt like a shot to the chest – and wondered how bad it would be to finish the movie. Would he survive it without relapsing completely? Ending a movie was like losing a family. It would definitely mean losing Mickey.

           Ian did his best to shake off the feeling of impending doom by accepting every Christmas party invitation thrown his way. He even roped Mickey into a few of them. Two nights before Christmas, on the last day of filming before they broke for the holiday, Christie and Tabitha invited them out for drinks. Ian said yes before Mickey could say no and Mickey, rolling his eyes, agreed to go out with them.

           They all piled into their cars and headed for the nearest bar – a dive that was mostly populated with actors filming at other studios. When they stopped outside, Mickey put his hand on Ian’s arm before he could get out.

           “Hey,” Mickey said, “don’t slip up in here.”

           “I’m fine, Mick. I’ve been fine for just over two months.”

           Mickey gave him a look like he didn’t quite believe him, but let his hand drop. Ian slipped out of the car feeling colder than he had in a while. He knew he didn’t owe Mickey anything and Mickey hadn’t told him not to drink, but he promised himself he wouldn’t go over two beers. Not if Mickey was worried about him.

           But it kind of bugged him that Mickey was worried about him. He’d been clean since before the movie had started. And Mickey knew what he was like high, how he got. He was pretty sure he hadn’t had a night where he’d made a pass at Mickey or forgotten where he was for a long time.

           Ian managed to push his worries back in order to keep up with the conversation. He laughed at all the right points in Christie’s stories, screwed up his face when he taste-tested Tabitha’s too-sour martini, and even managed to make Mickey smile once or twice. He nursed his first beer slowly, watched the others get wasted. Even Mickey drank more than he usually did and near the end of the night, he looked ready to fall off his stool.

           “Okay, okay, okay!” Tabitha said, clapping her hands. “We have not played nearly enough games tonight.”

           “Drinking games?” Christie replied.

           “No! Game games. Like sleepover games.”

           Mickey snorted. “This isn’t a fucking sleepover.”

           “Humour me.” Tabitha closed her eyes for a moment and managed to open them looking completely sober, even though she was anything but. “Mickey, fuck marry kill. The three of us. Go.”

           Mickey shook his head. “I’m not answering that.”

           “Come on.” Ian almost nudged him, but thought the action might tip him over. He smiled right at Mickey. “We all know you’re going to kill me.”

           “I don’t know,” Mickey said. “The director thinks I’d fuck you so—”

           The rest of his sentence was lost in the girls’ laughter.

           Mickey held up a hand to silence them. “In all honesty, fuck marry kill, the three of you?” He shook his head. “I’m putting you all in the ground. None of that shit would be good for my career.”

           Ian laughed and slipped the beer bottle out of Mickey’s grip. “I think once you’re spewing death threats, it’s time to cut you off.”

           “I think it’s time to cut us all off,” Christie said. She stood up and grabbed Tabitha’s arm. “It’s late and I need to get her home before she passes out.”

           “Same,” Ian said, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder. He let the girls go first, watched them disappear out the glass door, and then got to his feet. “Can you call the car, Mick? Mick?”

           He shook his head. “It’s only a few blocks to your hotel.”

           Ian wanted to protest – dragging a drunk Mickey three blocks would be no easy task – but he supposed it was only fair after Mickey had done it for him. So he coaxed Mickey off the bar stool, got him to settle their tab, and then they started down the street. At first Ian didn’t touch him, just let him wander down the sidewalk but after he almost bumped into a couple going the other way, Ian took hold of his arm.

           “You going home for Christmas?” Mickey asked.

           “Yeah,” Ian said. “Fiona says she misses me. What are you doing?”

           Mickey shrugged. “Mandy’s flying in for a few days.”

           “She’s not busy?”

           “Hasn’t had a part in a while. Figured she’d give it a break for the holidays.” Mickey raised his eyes to look at Ian instead of his feet. “You should stop by. She’d like to see you.”

           “Or, you could stop by. You know Gallagher Christmases. People everywhere, no one’s really related, the whole thing goes to shit really fast.” Ian forced a smile. “Having you and Mandy there would really make it feel like old times.”

           Mickey smiled back then kicked a chunk of snow on the sidewalk. A few steps later, Ian kicked the same chunk further down. Mickey said, “I’d love to, but I don’t really like putting Mandy that close to Terry, you know?”

           “Mick...” Ian hesitated over the words. Mickey looked over at him with curiosity on his face, one eyebrow raised. Ian’s mouth moved, but for a long time the words didn’t come out. He shook his head. “Wow, umm, Mick, he’s... dead. I thought you knew.”

           “He’s dead?” Mickey stopped in his tracks.

           Ian stopped too and gave a slight nod.

           Then, suddenly, Mickey was kissing him. His lips were hot, hungry, and fierce. His tongue dipped into Ian’s mouth for just a moment before he pulled back to nibble at Ian’s bottom lip. He stopped almost as quickly as he’d started, a smile on his face.

           “Mistletoe,” Mickey said, pointing up. “Figured I owed you.”

           Ian lasted about a second before he started to laugh. “That how you usually react when people tell you your dad’s dead?”

           “It’s a definite turn on of mine.” Mickey kept walking and Ian had to scramble to catch up with him. “When did he die?”

           “About a week ago,” Ian said. “It was actually the day you picked me up late, so I thought... I thought someone had told you.”

           Mickey shook his head. “I don’t talk to anyone back home anymore. Not even my brothers.”

           “Why not?”

           “Why would I? They’ve never been there for me, never had my back. They rode my fame as far as they could before I dumped them off and they’re all still criminals and drug addicts so it’s bad for my image to go back there.”

           “Does that mean you’re still not coming for Christmas?”

           “I’ll think about it.”

           They walked the rest of the way to the hotel in silence. They got into the elevator, Ian pressed the button for floor eight, and Mickey smiled. “What?” Ian said.

           “Just remembering the last time we were in an elevator together.”

           Ian made a face. “When was that?”

           “When you were blackout drunk and I dragged you home.” Mickey leaned back against the elevator wall and turned his cocky smile on Ian. “You remember what you called me?”

           “Do I want to?”

           Mickey snorted. “No. God. I wish I didn’t remember.”

           Ian laughed.

           “Kind of turned me on though,” Mickey said.

           “Fuck off.”

           “So you do remember?”

           Ian shrugged. “I have an idea.”

           It was Mickey’s turn to laugh. Ian kept his head down to hide his blush as the elevator dinged open on their floor. He grabbed Mickey’s arm to keep him steady and led him down the hall to his room. While he went for the key, Mickey leaned against the wall looking at him. Ian could feel the heat in his gaze, the want in his eyes. He opened the door as quickly as he could and pushed Mickey inside.

           After he’d closed the door, he met Mickey’s eyes again. “You’re drunk,” he said.

           “I’m not that drunk.” Mickey took a step forward.

           Ian caught the collar of Mickey’s shirt and held him at an arm’s length. “Just friends, remember?”

           “That was a stupid fucking idea when we started this movie and it’s a stupid fucking idea now.”

           “Do you just get gayer the drunker you are?”

           Mickey snorted. “Fuck off.” He batted at Ian’s arm, trying to get closer, and Ian eventually relented. Mickey came in close, his breath hot over Ian’s face, his smile like moonlight. Their noses rubbed together and Ian stopped breathing. “You know,” Mickey said, “I fall asleep thinking about you. Wake up in the middle of dreams about you. You’re under my skin, man.”

           Ian looked down into Mickey’s blue eyes and felt his heart stutter back to life. All of him knew this was a bad idea. If it had been a bad idea a thousand times before, it was still a bad idea now. Nothing had changed. Plus, Mickey was drunk.

           “We shouldn’t do this when you’re drunk.”

           “Shut up.”

           Mickey pressed their lips together in a sweet, soft kiss. He pulled back after only a second and Ian leaned in to follow his lips, stumbled away from the door as Mickey moved backwards. Mickey got a hand on his neck and pulled him in to deepen the kiss just before he hit the bed. Ian pressed him back onto the mattress and crawled on top of him. Mickey’s fingers found their way under his shirt and started to pull it up.

           Ian broke the kiss to get his shirt off but was back on Mickey a second later. He couldn’t believe that Mickey tasted as good as he did. In all his wildest fantasies, Mickey tasted like he looked – like cigarettes and the bite of alcohol. He’d never adjusted for the man Mickey had become, for the mint lip balm Mickey used religiously and the honey edge of his new favourite beer. He never imagined Mickey would taste like money and stars, like someone who might actually be good for him.

           “Ian,” Mickey muttered between kisses. “Ian. Ian.”

           It took Ian a moment to realize Mickey was trying to get his attention. He pulled back to look at the sparkles in Mickey’s eyes, the happy smile that had kept grazing his lips. “Mick,” Ian said. He ran his hand back through Mickey’s black hair, pulled it just a little to get a mumbled groan out of the other man’s lips.

           “Ian.”

           “What?”

           Mickey started to laugh, his whole body shaking under Ian. “I can’t get it up, man.”

           Ian’s smile faltered. “What?”

           “I’m fucking wasted. I’m sorry.” Mickey kept laughing, even as he pulled Ian down for another kiss. He kissed him sloppily and hungrily and with the kind of pressure that made Ian forget how confused he was about the whole situation. “In the morning,” Mickey said. “I promise. As soon as I’m fucking sober, you can fuck me.”

           Ian started to laugh too and brought his lips down to kiss Mickey’s shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. He leaned their foreheads together and looked into Mickey’s eyes until they blurred. Then he kissed him soft, sweet, before rolling over to lay beside Mickey on the mattress.

           “Wanna hear something funny?” Mickey said.

           “Sure.”

           “Mandy thinks I’m in love with you.” Mickey paused for a long moment. “I think maybe she’s right.”

           Ian opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t figure out what the proper response was. It didn’t matter. Mickey was asleep seconds later, his stomach moving up and down, slight snores leaving his lips. Ian stroked back his hair, kissed him on the forehead, and then started the difficult task of getting Mickey under the covers without waking him.

           He managed and then settled down beside him. He watched Mickey sleep for a long time, not tired himself.

<<Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen>>

[skankovichmarauder]

Chapter 4

Stirring the remains of my oat.eal around the bowl, I sat across the table from Lip, facing the Gryffindor table. Sirius sat on the bench facing me, as well. He rolled an apple slice between his fingers, eyes refusing to break contact with mine. “You gonna go over there and talk to him, or you two just gonna eye fuck over every meal?” Lips voice startled. “Fuck, Gallagher!” I dropped my spoon. “I thought you were studying..” “Gallagher, huh?” Lip raised the tip of his quill to his bottom lip, his signature move; he did it so often, there was an almost permanent black spot if you looked closely enough. “You’ve been spending too much time with Mickey. Speaking of which, come on,” Lip got up and motioned me to follow. Obliging, I grabbed my bags and we walked the length of the table, meeting goes by the head table. “Shit,” ducking behind Lip, I used him as a shield between me and Professor Irvine. “We all dipped outta detention last night!” I hissed into his shoulder. “What?” Lip chuckled at the thought, but hid me non the less. We walked to the table furthest away from Slytherin; Gryffindor. “Oh my God, Lip, what are we doing?” Punching him, I straightened up, brushing the front of my robes. Subconsciously, I searched for Sirius. When I finally found him, he had apparently followed my journey, for our eyes met again. From this distance, I could almost see the grey. Ian and Mickey were sitting together, only a couple seats down from Sirius’s crew. Realizing what he’d done, I slapped Lip’s arm. “You bastard!” I hissed. Laughing, Lip plopped down on the side of Ian and mickey closest to Sirius, leaving me the seat next to Ian, where if I sat sideways, I could maintain sight of the target. “How about that distraction last night?” Ian turned to face me, an impish grin covering the bottom half of his face. “You’re such a shit,” I smiled back, determined not to let my pounding heart distract me. “Where’d you go?” I asked Mickey, making conversation. “We fucked around down in the kitchen,” Mickey shrugged, shoveling a hunk of bread into his mouth. “Had the house elves cook up some shit.” Bread crumbs flew from his mouth, landing in front of me. “You’re fucking gross,” I wiped em off on to the floor. “Ask Harls where she went,” Lip smacked Mickey on his back, forcing the rest of the bread to fly onto to table. “What the fuck, Lip!” Mickey yelled, raising both hands into the air, putting on more of a front than necessary. Ian perked up, tho, saying, “okay, I’ll take the bait; Where’d you go, Harls?” “Harls?” His voice sent a cold shiver down my spine; it was as tho somebody had placed am invisibility spell on me, for it produced the same sensation. Lip turned fully around and got a face full of Sirius’s crotch. Almost falling over, he swiftly moved to get up and back away from the proximity a little. “Sorry about that mate,” Sirius threw on a half smile and clapped Lip’s shoulder. “No problem, man,” Lip lifted his hands into the air as tho in surrender. “Your mates call you ‘Harls’?” He inclined his head, curiosity oozing from his very essence. Finding my voice, I said, “Yeah.. only the ones from back home, anyway.” Sirius nodded, his hands in his pockets and a slouch in his shoulders. Confidence enveloped him and I didn’t know whether to swoon or be comoletely jealous, so I settled for a hybrid of the two. “Sorry to interrupt,” he added quickly, pulling a hand out and using it to motion at our meeting. “I just heard a rumor about… Harls… and hoped she’d be able to help me with some Defense Against the Dark Arts extra credit I was working on.” My stomach dropped and I was simultaneously shocked and impressed with how word got out around the school. Mickey was the first to answer, however, asking, “What’s the fucking rumor?” Unabashed, Sirius maintained his dissociative stance, shrugging his shoulders and responding with, “Not for me to say, is it?” All eyes turned to me. Dry mouthed and red faced, I bit my bottom lip. “Look, it’s no big deal guys,” I started, to which I was greeted with an explosion of sound; if I tried, I could make out terms like, “south side!” “No secrets between friends!” “What do you know that I don’t?” To which I jumped up from the table, grabbed Sirius but the arm, told em, “Ask Mandy!” Then stomped out of the great Hall, leading a grinning Sirius Black. “Who told you?” I asked fiercely, once we had finally left the crowds of students behind. We had made it to the corridors that overlooked the great lake. The giant squid gave a wave to the students who say huddled around it. “It’s my small school,” Sirius smirked, putting a slice of apple in his mouth. Rolling my eyes, I dragged him further down the hall, as far away from the other students as possible; once we had gone a few paces, however, Sirius turned me on the spot. Surprised by his strength, I fell into his chest, caught up by his arms. “You gonna teach me how to produce a Patronus?” He asked, his nose brushing the tip of mine. Unnerved, I responded, “What’s in it for me?” Leaning forward, he placed his lips on mine. Cheeks aflame, knees weak, it took all the strength I could muster to pull back and ask him, “is that all?” This elicited a chuckle from Sirius; pulling me closer, he whispered, “Oh, no, Harls; this is only the beginning.”

************ My time was divided between studying for the O.W.L.S., spending time with Mandy and sneaking off to teach Sirius how to produce the Patronus Charm. It was exhausting, and, tho I hated to admit it, my favorite parts were the ones spent with Sirius. Hidden under the castle or nestled between unknown corridors, we practiced and practiced til the early hours of the morning. The level of intelligence Sirius possessed impressed me; in what felt like an incredibly short amount of time, our Patronii (his shaggy dog and my playful beagle) chased each other thru out the tunnel beneath the school. "Goddamn!" I yelled in excitement, as the dogs lapped around us. "Don't sound so impressed," he shrugged, tho the tone of his voice assured me he wasn't offended. "I never knew..." I started. Instead of finishing, I grabbed his wand less hand in mine. Looking away from the bright canines, he instead gripped my hand back. "What's up?" The smirk.he wore so well could he felt in his voice even in the near pitch blackness of the tunnel. "People are talking, you know," I squeezed his hand, more out of nerves than anything. "Yeah, I've heard," he chuckled. The school had felt it necessary to put Sirius and I at center stage. We got it from all ends. Jealous girls hissed as they passed me in the halls; I'd been hit with the bat bogey hex so many times, it became necessary for me to learn the invisibility charm just to get from one class to the next. Mandy had been too focused on Lip and the ever impending O.W.L.s to really get caught up in the drama. I didn't blame her one bit for avoiding me in the hallways. Sirius squeezed my hand back then told me he'd dealt with some of the same. "My mates give me a hard time," he drawled as though it meant nothing, but I could tell it was becoming irritating. "The usual stuff, I suppose; taking the Mickey outta me, the like." "Hmmm," I uttered. "What do you propose we do?" "I'm not sure." "Wanna just make it official, then, get it right out in the open?" "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Sirius Black?" "Why, I believe that is exactly what I'm doing. What do you say?" I grinned like an idiot, high on the idea that the only guy I'd ever thought of romantically felt the same way, I stood on my toes and planted my lips firmly on his cheek. The glow of our Patronii was the light we had. They hadn't left is; if anything, they both intensified. "I'll take that as a yes then," Sirius turned my cheek so that his mouth was on mine. Parting my lips with his tongue, I felt it slide and dance inside my mouth with my own. It was an unfamiliar tho not unpleasant sensation. Between my legs, I smoldered, what was left of a fire after it was put out. Again, a foreign sensation but one that I could grow addicted to if I weren't careful. "I think I have to pee," I giggled, not thinking. Once I heard the words out loud, I moaned. "Ughhh, I didn't mean to say that out loud!" Sirius held me to his chest and laughed heartily. "Actually, I think that's a good thing, all things considered.." We stood like that for a moment, then two. I never wanted to leave. When Sirius pulled us apart, he looked down at me and said, "Come on, Harls. I gotta few spells I wanna teach you for when you come under attack in the halls."

[littlespoonevan]

Gallavich + facing each other in bed, andd caressing each other's faces before falling asleep :')

sooo i don’t know if this was meant to be a prompt but i made it one lol. i’ve been wanting to write about the aftermath of 4x11 for a long time and exercise my hurt/comfort muscles so here’s my take on what happens after mickey’s coming out scene

enjoy :’)

*

The walk home is quiet, the only sound theirfootsteps on the wet pavement and their hushed breaths forming little clouds inthe air. Ian doesn’t hold Mickey’s hand, no matter how much he wants to.Tonight has already been too much without something like that pushing him overthe edge. Instead he lets their arms brush with every second step.

It surprises him though when they reach his streetthat Mickey’s the one to reach out and take his hand.

Ian looks at him but doesn’t stop walking, doesn’twant to give Mickey time to try and pull back. Mickey’s expression is hard tomake out in the dark with the dried blood still all over his face but Ian can atthe very least tell he doesn’t want him to say anything. So he squeezes Mickey’shand and tows him toward the Gallagher house.

Kev must’ve text Fiona when shit went down becauseshe’s still up when they come through the front door, sitting braced on thearmchair with a mug of what’s most likely spiked coffee between her hands. Sheflies out of her seat when she takes in the sight of them.

“Holy shit, what-“

“We’re fine,” Ian cuts in, keeping his voice low inan attempt not to wake anyone else up. Mickey doesn’t need an audience rightnow.

Fiona clamps her mouth shut though she looks like she’dmuch rather be talking. She must see something in Ian’s expression thoughbecause her eyes flicker to Mickey and then, briefly to their hands, and shenods. “Want me to call V?”

Ian shakes his head. “S’not as bad as it looks,” hepromises. “We’re gonna get cleaned up.”

Fiona nods again, hesitating a moment before shespeaks. “Terry back in lockup?”

Mickey answers this time and Ian can tell he’s tryingto joke but the bone-deep exhaustion and barest hint of anxiety evident in hisvoice makes it fall flat. “For a long fuckin’ time hopefully.”

And Ian can’t take it anymore, feels a burning needto get his hands on Mickey. To take care of him, to hold him, to salvage thishorrific fucking night. “Night, Fi,” he whispers, slipping his hand out ofMickey’s to grip his shoulders and steer him gently in the direction of thestairs.

It says a lot about how close Mickey must be tobreaking point that he doesn’t even protest, just lets Ian guide him.

Ian lets go of him once they reach the bathroom butonly to close the door. When he turns back around Mickey is standing listlesslyin the middle of the room and Ian nods to the closed toilet seat. “Here, sitdown,” he says, nudging around Mickey to get the first aid kit from under thesink. “You can take a shower in a sec, let me just clean the worst of it first.”

Mickey huffs a tired laugh as he sits down. “You finda new career without tellin’ me, Gallagher?”

Ian bites back a smile and kneels down in front ofMickey so they’re eye to eye. “Picked up a few things when Ned was getting a bulletoutta your ass.”

Mickey laughs again but it’s really more of anexhale. There’s faint smile on his face though. “Fuck, man. My head hurts.”

Ian winces in sympathy as Mickey closes his eyes –whatever the fuck Terry did to his ribs makes his chest ache with every breathso he gets it. “You think it’s a concussion?” he asks softly as he digs out theantiseptic wipes from the first aid kit, keeping one hand on Mickey’s knee –less to keep him steady and more because he doesn’t feel like letting go of himright now.

“Dunno,” Mickey shrugs half-heartedly, keeping hiseyes closed as Ian wipes the dirt and blood from his face. “Probably justfuckin’ tired.”

“Probably,” Ian agrees. “Your nose doesn’t look thatbad. Doesn’t look deep enough for stitches.”

Mickey cracks an eye open and appraises him. “Christ,Ian. Maybe you should become a nurse.”

Ian laughs, gently though – he learned his lessonearlier. “I’d get plenty of practice with you around.”

Mickey huffs again, his almost-laugh. “You want me toreturn the favour?” he asks when Ian’s finished with his face, fingers idlyfolding around the collar of the coat Ian’s still wearing.

“I’m good,” Ian assures him, swaying forward to pressa kiss to Mickey’s temple. “Let’s just shower and go to bed.”

The words look to be a relief to Mickey and he nods,letting Ian haul him up to stand again. Ian sets the water running while theyget out of their clothes, testing it with his hand before climbing in andMickey follows behind him. Ian pulls him under the spray and reaches for hisshampoo, squirting some onto his hand and reaching for Mickey’s hair.

Mickey lets out a quiet breath, closing his eyes whenIan’s hands run through his hair and Ian feels some of the tension in his ownstomach unfurl as he washes Mickey’s hair, working out the dried blood. Mickeyreaches for him at some point, seemingly intent on doing the same for Ian.

His fingers curl around Ian’s jaw at first, thumbshelping the water wash the blood off Ian’s face before he starts working on hishair. Ian’s not sure how long they stand like that until he can’t take it anymoreand closes the distance between them, pulling Mickey into his arms.

Mickey releases a shuddering breath as Ian’s armsclose around him, his own arms twisting across Ian’s back as his fingers clutchat Ian’s shoulderblades. His face is buried in the crook of Ian’s neck and Iancan feel the way his breath stutters. He knows the weight of what’s happenedtonight is finally hitting Mickey full force.

And he can’t help feeling an unbearable type ofguilt. For pushing Mickey, for making him choose, as if anything about thisentire situation has been as simple as Mickey wanting to keep them a secret. Hejust- it’s fucking irrational and stupid but it hurt feeling he couldn’t be with Mickey the way he wanted to, likethere was this whole other life being planned out for Mickey that Ian would oneday be exiled from. It’s selfish and he hates himself for putting Mickey inthis position but he promises himself he’ll do whatever he has to now toprotect Mickey, to put him first with whatever shit they’ve got coming theirway. He has to.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, carding his fingers throughMickey’s wet hair and speaking the words into Mickey’s shoulder. “I don’t knowwhat I expected to happen.”

Mickey shrugs against him, arms tightening just slightly.“Was gonna have to happen sooner or later.”

Ian pulls back a fraction to meet Mickey’s gaze, offeringhim a sad smile as he runs a finger under the cut on Mickey’s forehead. “Notlike that though.”

Mickey looks at him, a resigned look on his face ashe sighs. “Ian, it was always gonna happen like that. Whether there were fiftypeople in the room or just me and him. It was always gonna be like that. Atleast this way there were some fucking witnesses.”

Small blessings, Ian supposes.

“I’m still sorry,” Ian tells him. “I never wanted youto get hurt.”

“I know,” Mickey says, voice quiet as he leansagainst Ian. “Can we crash now? Feel like I’m dead on my feet.”

Ian nods and shuts off the water. Ian finds themtowels to dry off before going into the bedroom to get boxers and t-shirts forthem both. The only one in the bedroom is Carl, fast asleep in the top bunk.Liam must be in Fiona’s room and Ian reminds himself to thank his sister in themorning for giving them some modicum of privacy.

He returns to the bathroom with their clothes andafter changing and shoving their dirty towels down the laundry shoot they maketheir way back to the bedroom.

Mickey completely forgoes his makeshift camp on thefloor to follow Ian straight into his bed and Ian tries not to react toovisibly. Can’t believe this is actually happening. He can count on one hand theamount of times they’ve shared a bed for real. And while he wishes this wereunder different circumstances he’s going to savour the moment for all that itis.

His bed is too small for them to have much space butIan doesn’t care. By the looks of it, Mickey doesn’t either considering the wayhis legs immediately tangle with Ian’s under the covers. When they’re settledIan lifts his hand, smoothing the hair back off Mickey’s forehead before lettinghis fingers cradle his cheek.

He can just about make out the way the corner ofMickey’s mouth lifts in a smile at the touch.

They stay like that for a minute, still except forthe way Ian’s thumb brushes lightly over Mickey’s cheekbone. Then, tentatively,almost as if he’s never let himself dare try this before Mickey’s hand comes upto rest on Ian’s neck.

Ian’s too tired to grin the way he wants to so hejust lets his mouth twist up in a closed-mouth, contented smile. His eyesprobably give him away anyway.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers after a while. “Whatyou said before – about feeling free.”

Mickey tenses and Ian can tell so he keeps his thumbmoving across Mickey’s cheek, twists his legs around Mickey’s even moretightly. Tries to ground him in whatever way he can.

“Yeah,” Mickey says finally, soft and defeated.

And Ian doesn’t want him to think those words are aweakness, not when they’re the bravest thing Mickey’s ever said to him short ofwhat he’d done less than an hour later.

“For me too,” Ian says then, voice quiet and far tootender. “I’ve always felt free with you,” he explains. “Nothing’s ever made mefeel the way you do. Don’t think anything else could.”

He can feel Mickey’s eyes on him and he’s not surewhat Mickey can make out in the dark but eventually, the hand Mickey’s has onhis neck moves and curls around Ian’s jaw. In the next breath Mickey tips theirforeheads together and Ian’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“It’s you, Gallagher,” Mickey whispers. “Don’t knowwhat anyone else has to offer but I don’t want it. Just you.”

Ian kisses him then because he can’t not. Just agentle press – one that he tries to infuse with as much love and devotion as hepossibly can. He doesn’t move away when he pulls back, keeps his foreheadagainst Mickey’s and the scant inch of space between their mouths. It’s barelyclose enough.

The words Ilove you are on the tip of his tongue and he wants to say them. Over andover again until there isn’t a single doubt in Mickey’s mind. But there havealready been so many confessions tonight he’s not sure if either of them cantake much more.

So instead he touches Mickey’s bottom lip with thetip of his thumb, then the corner of his mouth where a barely-there smile stillsits and whispers, “Night, Mick.”

Mickey’s fingers run through his hair before trailinghis cheek until they finally find their way back to Ian’s neck and fall torest.

“Night, Ian.”

*

[littlespoonevan]

“please stay” for gallavich 🥺🥰

ok so the other week i saw gifset of the policeman telling ian mickey escaped prison during s7 and people were discussing the suggestion ian had visited mickey more than once so obviously i had to write it. so here’s a little snippet of ian visiting mick in juvie/prison over the years - i hope you like it

(this got angsty in the middle lol sorry)

*

Ian had been nervous when he’d first shown up tovisit Mickey in juvie, too afraid that Mickey might refuse to see him and notat all strong enough to deal with that kind of rejection. But Mickey had agreed to see him – not only that,he’d seemed happy to see him.

Well, as happy as Mickey ever allows anyone else tosee.

Sure, Mickey scoffs when Ian says, “I miss you,” butIan can see the way he hesitates before he starts throwing out threats, thequiet surprise in his expression before it melts into something else. Ian is convinced it’s understanding.

It’s what prompts him to reach out, to reach forMickey even though he can’t touch him.

“Take your hand off the glass,” Mickey says and Iandoes but he still has to bite back a smile.

He lets Mickey change the subject then, happy to lethim complain about his inmates. It’s inane conversation that doesn’t mean much– even Ian can tell the majority of Mickey’s threats are empty ones – but hestill revels in listening to Mickey talk.

He really fucking misses him.

All too soon their time is up and Ian has to fightthe way his face falls at the warden’s warning.

“It was good seeing you,” he says hesitantly,watching the way Mickey’s expression flickers before going carefully back toneutral. “Can I come see you again?”

Mickey huffs, “Do what you want, man, I don’t care.”

Ian nods, trying not to let himself feel dejecteduntil Mickey’s fingers tap against the glass once – so quickly you’d miss it ifyou weren’t looking. Ian blinks in surprise, gaze shooting up from whereMickey’s hand has disappeared from the table to Mickey’s face.

Mickey nods silently and hangs up the phone.

*

Juvie the first time had been shit but relativelymanageable. Juvie the second time was torture.

The first time he’d been able to pretend he didn’tmiss Ian, pretend he didn’t care about him and that they were nothing but fuckbuddies. And in spite of all that he’d known Ian would wait for him in somecapacity. Even if he’d been off fucking other guys he’d still want Mickeybecause what they had was good.

Now…

Ian probably hates him, the last words Mickey had saidto him were that they were over, and Mickey misses him so fucking much he feelslike he can’t breathe.

When he’s told he’s got a visitor he assumes it’sMandy since it’s always Mandy, what he doesn’t expect is to see Ian sittingthere on the other side of the glass. He’s got a fresh buzzcut and hisshoulders look bigger with the way his t-shirt stretches across his chest butit’s the look on his face what gets to Mickey the most. The look of nervousdetermination like he’s more than willing to tell Mickey, “fuck you,” if hequestions him for coming.

Christ, Mickey wants to touch him.

He sits down heavily in his seat, putting the phoneto his ear and gripping it too tightly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ian says back, voice carefully devoid of anyemotion. “How’ve you been?”

Mickey shrugs, averting his gaze, because lookingdirectly at Ian after so long hurts his eyes. “I mean, it’s juvie.”

Ian nods like he gets it even though he’s neverstepped foot in this place unless it’s to visit Mickey.

“You?” Mickey asks then, unsure of how to navigatethis conversation when he’d felt so angry the last time he saw Ian.

You’renothing but a warm mouth to me haunts him at night. Ian’snot a warm mouth. He’s warm everything. He’s the only fucking thing that’s evermade Mickey feel warm.

Ian lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Okay, Iguess.” He falls silent for another beat before looking up at Mickey under hislashes. “For what it’s worth, I think Frank drank away whatever brain cellsregistered what we were doing. He hasn’t brought it up since – I don’t eventhink he remembers.”

Mickey swallows hard, forcing himself to nod. “Kindafigured when my dad didn’t sic anyone on me in here to send me to theinfirmary.”

Ian’s mouth pinches into a tight line and Mickeywants nothing more than to reach out and smooth it out.

“Would he really do that?” Ian asks and Mickey wantsto scoff or roll his eyes or call Ian fucking deluded but he’s too tired so hejust nods.

“Yeah,” he says, resigned. “He would.”

Ian’s quiet as he absorbs that, expression unreadablewhen he turns the full force of his gaze on Mickey again. “How long you gotleft?”

“Six months, I think. Maybe less if I get out on goodbehaviour.”

“Okay,” Ian replies, voice too soft, and Mickey wantsto remind him where the fuck they are but he can’t get the words out.

Ian taps the glass just once, seeming more like anervous habit than anything else, but it sets Mickey’s heart pounding in hischest for the rest of the night.

*

This is probably a mistake. In fact, it’s definitelya mistake.

But Ian feels like he’s drowning in plain sight andnobody can see it. He’s hollowed out inside and raw and broken and he just reallyfucking wants to see Mickey.

He hasn’t since the last time.

When Mickey showed him the tattoo and Ian had liedand said he’d wait. But he thinks he’d been lying more to himself than toMickey.

It’s just- fuck, he doesn’t want to put Mickeythrough this. Over and over again. He doesn’t want Mickey to see him like this.But he also can’t breathe and Mickey’s the only person who knows how his lungsare supposed to work.

Mickey freezes on the other side of the glass when hesees him, hand gripping the back of the chair where he’d been about to pull it outto sit down. Ian wouldn’t blame him if he threw the chair at the glass andstormed off. He deserves worse.

Mickey doesn’t do any of that though because Mickey’sa better person than him. Instead, he sits down, faltering for just a momentbefore he picks up the phone and puts it to his ear. “Fucking hell, Gallagher,”he breathes. “What happened?”

“Hey Mick,” Ian replies quietly. His voice doesn’teven sound like his. It seems to be permanently hoarse from disuse lately.

Mickey’s initial shock seems to have worn off,replaced by a deep-rooted look of concern that Ian feels all too familiar withnow. “Ian,” he says, like the name’sbeen ripped from his chest. “What’s wrong?”

Ian shrugs, hunching his shoulders. “Jus’ been a badday,” he mutters.

“Uh huh and how long’s this bad day been going onfor?”

Ian closes his eyes because Christ, Mickey knows him. Mickey sees through him everyfucking time.

“A month or two,” he admits finally, swallowing hardat the sadness in Mickey’s eyes.

“You takin’ your meds?” Mickey asks likes he’s afraidto even say it.

“They’re not helping,” Ian replies tremulously.

“So try different ones,” Mickey murmurs, voice asoothing balm on Ian’s soul. “Ian, you can’t pull yourself out of this on yourown.”

Ian nods, staring down at the table in front of himas he takes a steadying breath. “I know that.”

Neither of them speak for a moment and Ian isoverwhelmed with how much the yearning he feels for Mickey consumes him. God,he just wants to hold him once more.

“I’m sorry,” he says then, voice wavering as he meetsMickey’s eyes. “For trying to push you away. For what I said. For everything.”

Mickey seems so surprised he forgets to keep hisguard up and his face is too open, too vulnerable. Ian has never despised thepanel of glass between them more. “You mean that?” he asks eventually and Iannods fervently.

“I thought you’d be better off without me,” hereveals, ducking his head self-consciously.

“Ian, when the fuck have I ever been better offwithout you?” Mickey asks tiredly and Ian closes his eyes, forcing air into hislungs and back out again as he pushes back the burn behind his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with me when I’m likethis. It shouldn’t be this for therest of your life.”

Mickey stares at him, mouth working. “How ‘bout youlet me make that decision for myself, huh?”

Ian nods as his eyes travel across Mickey’s face.Fuck, he misses him. “I miss you,” he sighs.

“I miss you too,” Mickey says, almost choking on thewords. His eyes are shining when Ian looks at them and he doesn’t think when hereaches out, just presses his curled fist against the glass.

Mickey takes a shuddering breath as he watches himbefore his own knuckles mirror Ian’s.

“Eight years is really long time,” Ian whispers, thelump in his throat making it hard to speak properly.

“Yeah,” Mickey agrees, opening his mouth to say somethingelse before closing it again.

“Ian, can you just- Please stay,” he requests finally,shoulders hunched and head bowed like he’s already expecting a rejection.

“I’ll stay,” Ian replies quietly and Mickey suddenly seemsto breathe easier.

Ian stays until visiting hours are over, neither ofthem really even talking – just watching each other, committing one another’s facesto memory once again.

“I’ll come back soon,” he promises, forcing himselfto stand when the warden starts eyeing him irritably.

He touches the glass one last time and Mickey’s stillgripping the phone so hard it looks like it’s going to break but he nods.

Ian’ll come back.

*

Mickey had felt sick to his stomach stepping backinside prison. It hadn’t been the usual fear – it’d been different.

Fear of rejection tangled with nerves andanticipation.

It had all melted away the moment Ian had looked athim though.

It’s been hours since then and Ian had climbed downoff his own bunk the second the guard had done his last check, crawling intoMickey’s and kissing him until both their mouths were raw. Now Ian’s lying onhis side against the wall, head pillowed on Mickey’s chest and Mickey can’tfucking believe this is something he gets to have again.

They’d talked before, not about much beyond how thefuck Ian ended up in here and muffled, “I missed you”s in between kisses. But theystill haven’t really talked about them.They’re quiet now, Mickey’s fingers gently trailing down between Ian’sshoulderblades and back up again.

Ian reaches for his shirt then and Mickey doesn’t getwhy he’s tugging at it until he catches sight of his own tattoo peeking outfrom behind the fabric. Mickey feels shame and embarrassment burn through himand he’s about to pull Ian’s hand away until Ian’s pushing up on his elbow abit and kissing Mickey’s heart, right where his own name sits.

Mickey swallows hard, hand coming up involuntarily totwist in Ian’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Ian mumbles into his skin. And it’s notthe first time he’s said it but it still makes Mickey’s chest tighten.

“I know,” he says after a beat.

“It never went away,” Ian tells him, gaze boring intoMickey’s. “Loving you, I mean. It never went away.”

Mickey wets his lips and tries not to let hisemotions get the better of him. Searching for something to say, he lifts hisfree hand and reaches for Ian’s, folding their fingers together on top of hischest.

“I know that too,” he mumbles.

It never went away for Mickey either.

*

[thevioletjones]

10 & 59 for the fic prompt meme!

This is the longest ficlet yet. Lol. It’s also combined with similar requests from @yellowcerulean & @tarantula-teeth for an added 34 & 8. So I give you...

Criminal AU / I didn’t mean to turn you on / Mutual pining / Detective AU

Mickey shook his leg and bit his thumbnail, his agitation overwhelming all his senses. It felt like he was trapped beneath a tsunami and was never going to be able to breathe again. He was totally and completely fucked.

At least he wasn’t handcuffed at the moment, which was kind of strange, but he wasn’t about to question it. He just wished one of them detective dickheads would come question him already so he could ask for a lawyer, get charged, and be on his way to jail. Sitting around here in the interrogation room was too nerve-wracking. They all knew how this was gonna end, so he resented all the wasted time.

According to the clock on the wall, he’d been sitting there staring at the blank wall for 45 fucking minutes now. He knew they did that shit on purpose… like antsiness was supposed to loosen tongues. Really, it just made people more pissed off. Being held against one’s will already sucked enough.

Finally, some dude walked into the room, his red head down as he read a case file. The door closed heavily behind him as he took a seat across the table from Mickey, still not making eye contact.

“Mickey Milkovich. Long time, no see. How’s your sister?”

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”

The cop looked up at him then, a lopsided smirk on his fuzzy face. “Mandy. I haven’t seen her in ages. She doing alright?”

Mickey shrugged. “Yeah, she’s fine. Why do you give a shit, pig?”

The ginger-beard just snickered. “Guess you don’t remember me then.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I was a lot scrawnier then, rounder face, kinda goofy looking, couldn’t sprout a whisker to save my life…”

Mickey just stared at him like he couldn’t give a fuck less.

“I’m Ian. Gallagher. Detective Gallagher, if you’re nasty.”

That made his mouth drop open in surprise. Holy shit. Gallagher? He definitely remembered the teen version. Him and Mandy had been attached at the hip for years back in high school. Mickey never talked to him much, but he was around their house an annoying amount of the time. He looked… very grown up. Too bad he was a fucking cop. And straight to boot.

“Yeah, whatever. I remember you. Can we get this shit over with? Makin’ me sit here all goddamn night is fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Fair enough,” said Ian, folding his hands together on top of the file. “You wanna give me your side of the story before I start asking specific questions?”

“Ain’t it pretty self-explanatory, man?”

“Not necessarily. You were caught in the raid, in flagrante, but there seems to be some confusion as to the extent of your involvement in the prostitution ring.”

“What the fuck does that mean? I ain’t a part of shit!”

“Look, we’re aware of the hand-whore brothel your dad used to run out of the Alibi some years back, as well as the connection between Terry and the Bartkowicz brothers running this ring. Obviously, we have your prior arrest records, which coincidentally all seem to be related to dear old dad, so… you see why we have questions now?”

Mickey slammed both his fist down on the tabletop and stood brusquely, knocking his metal chair to the floor. “This is fuckin’ bullshit! You can’t pin this shit on me!”

Ian stood tall and menacing. “Sit down, Mickey.”

“Fuck you! I ain't listenin’ to anymore of this!”

He tried to march straight to the door, but found himself running into a wall of built redheaded dick. Before he could think better of it, he pushed Ian forcefully, then suddenly found himself knocked sideways into the wall, and in no time he was pressed against it chest first, arm twisted painfully behind him, with a forearm against his neck.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to sit here without the fucking cuffs on and answer my questions. You try something again, and I’ll get one of the bruisers that likes to bust heads in here to put ‘em on your hands and your feet. Got it?”

Shit. The only thing Mickey was getting was a damn killer of an erection. That would be the worst thing to let on given the circumstances, so he nodded vigorously as best he could.

“Yeah, yeah, man. Sorry.”

Ian's body moved away, and Mickey felt cold at the loss, turning around slowly with his hands up. Gallagher pointed at him, then to the chair he’d previously occupied, eyeing Mickey apprehensively.  Once he was seated again, the detective sat back down as well.

“Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you. For Mandy’s sake. I won’t be able to if you pull stunts like that. I know you wouldn’t rather be dealing with one of the other guys on the task force.”

Mickey sighed and sagged in his chair. “Whatever, man. I don’t know anything. And I ain’t actually just sayin’ that. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s it. I don't work for my piece of shit father anymore.”

Ian gave him an incredulous look, then re-opened the file on the table, thumbing through a few pages deep. Mickey watched as he read whatever the fuck was written there, and the way those orange eyebrows suddenly shot up, and Ian sent him a stunned look.

“What?” asked Mickey.

Ian cleared his throat and looked back at the page. “It says here that you weren’t busted with a woman.” Mickey gulped. “You were busted with a man.”

Mickey struggled to keep his cool, but quickly schooled his features. “So?”

“You’re gay?” Ian asked bluntly.

“Nah, I just like havin’ another guy’s dick in my ass.”

Ian’s mouth slowly lifted into an unreadable kind of smile. “Wait here.”

And just like that, Ian was gone, and Mickey was most definitely totally fucked. No way South Side cops were gonna go easy on the fag criminal son of a dude they all fuckin’ despised with a fiery passion. Gallagher had probably gone to get a whole squad to bash on him until they transferred him into gen pop.

He went back to shaking a leg and biting his nails, and it felt like fucking forever before Ian returned.

He was still alone, and he stood in the middle of the room for a moment and just stared at Mickey. After the dramatic pause, he said, “You’re free to go.”

Mickey’s jaw dropped yet again. He knew for a fact he’d been looking at about 30 days jail time, or at the very least, some hefty-ass fine for solicitation.

“What the fuck you mean I’m free to go?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re free to go.”

“How?” Mickey shouldn’t be glued to this fucking hot seat asking questions, but he couldn’t help it. It was like the damn Twilight Zone.

Ian shrugged. “I took care of it. From one queer on the DL to another.”

Mickey gasped. “You fuckin’ serious? Didn’t you used to date my sister?”

“I did. In a sense. She knew who I was from the beginning. Did me a favor. We protected each other. This is just an extension of that. Besides, I always kinda had a crush on your dirty, crude, thug ass. Even though you were always an asshole and never looked at me twice.”

If Ian kept shocking Mickey like this, he was gonna need a defibrillator to get his heartbeat back on the proper wavelength. What the actual fuck?

“Oh, I looked twice, Gallagher,” he replied, rising, “you just never caught me.”

Ian laughed. “Until now apparently.”

Mickey flipped him off and followed Ian out of the room. For some reason, he was escorted all the way to the station door.

“Stay outta trouble, Milkovich,” Ian called to him as he walked into the night.

Mickey smirked and turned around as he kept walking. “You know where I live if you got a problem, Gallagher.”

Seeing Ian’s reciprocal smile, he turned back around and pulled his cigarettes out. Definitely not how this night was supposed to go, but maybe Red would come see about him sometime.