#fiona ian mickey mandy kev and v all had some shit to say at one point or another

[hayscodings]

debbie is the only character in the entire series who never looked down on svetlana for her work or called her by some derogatory name

[svltburn]

Contact Buzz

Summary: Fiona and Iggy get buzzed at the neighborhood bonfire.

Ship: Fiona Gallagher/Iggy Milkovich

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, depictions of foreplay, not sfw

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on AO3

The noise should be the first thing that draws Iggy’s attention since it sounds like an end-of-the-world party is taking place a few blocks away from where he’s walking home after his beer run.

It’s not the noise though, it’s the smell. Whoever it is has to have the strongest weed imaginable, and Iggy wants in on that. He only notices the noise once he gets closer, dozens of people whooping and hollering, the dark sky illuminated by the giant plume of flames in the center of them all.

Mickey's boyfriend - the first redheaded Gallagher kid, Iggy can’t remember his name. Evan, Aaron, something monosyllabic like that - is carrying one of his little brothers on his back near the flames. One of their neighbors is waving his shirt into the smoke above the flames then pulling it back to inhale. It looks like the whole of Wallace Street is here, dancing around and shouting along to the song that’s playing loudly over someone’s speakers.

It’s chaotic, and where there’s chaos, there should be Milkoviches. Though he has to admit he doesn’t look very hard, in the quick glance he does give, Iggy notices a distinct lack of anyone from his family.

When he gets close enough, he wades into the crowd. He sets his pack of beer down on the first tailgate he comes to, and a joint appears in his hand as if by magic. He doesn’t know who it was that gave it to him, and they’ve already disappeared by the time he looks up to watch the fire after taking his first hit.

If he could smell it from three blocks away, Iggy’s surprised the cops aren’t here already. Then again, he heard that Fiona Gallagher maybe had a thing with one, so maybe she pulled some strings or some dick that allowed the whole neighborhood to come out and get a contact buzz together.

Iggy’s lived in the Southside his whole life, but he can’t spot a whole lot of people he thinks he knows. Even less he would consider friends.

He takes his magic joint with him and goes to hop up to sit next to his beer in the bed of whoever’s pick-up. He rips the box open and tugs a can out to pop the top on, drinks about half of it before the other side of the truck is dipping down under the weight of someone hopping up to join him on the other side. Iggy looks up, curious, around his beer, lowering it and belching as he makes eye contact with Fiona Gallagher.

The action makes her laugh for some reason, and then before Iggy can process, she’s leaning over and snagging the half-empty can out of his hand to down the rest of it. Iggy isn’t sure what to do with that, but he smirks at her as he goes for another one, asks, “Why you guys burning a giant pile of weed?”

Fiona helps herself to one of his beers, taking several swallows before shrugging. “Had too much. Needed to get rid of it.”

That answer makes Iggy roll his eyes, the gesture almost exaggerated in its obviousness. “Well shit, could have just brought it over to our house. Could have gotten rid of it for you no problem. And would have wasted a lot less.”

Fiona makes a face that Iggy thinks is half disbelief, half amusement. “Meaning what? That you and your brothers would have smoked it all?” And well… yeah, okay, that’s exactly what Iggy meant. But he can’t let her have the last word.

“No, my sister too, don’t be sexist. You should know her. Mandy, about 5’8”, totally banging your brother. Ringing a bell?” Iggy may know a little more than he’d like about Ian and Mickey’s indiscretions, but he isn’t about to make it public knowledge. Too many ears around that might remember overhearing it in the morning. Besides, he didn’t know if Fiona knew. Not his business.

For a second, Fiona looks like she’s about to say something, but after a moment of introspection, she instead finishes her beer and makes a grab for the joint Iggy’s still holding between his fingers. He’s already got a nice buzz going, and his reaction time’s a little slow, so she’s already got in her grip by the time he tries to grab it back. The world tilts off its axis a little bit when he tries to lean over for it, so he gives up and just lets her have it. “Grabby bitch, aren’t you?” he asks, though there’s not any heat behind the words. He sounds as happy and fuzzy as he feels.

Fiona coughs out a smokey laugh around the joint between her lips. “Not sure a Milkovich has any room to talk about ‘grabby’.”

Iggy hums at the dig, but well it’s true. Iggy wonders if he’s really obvious, or if Fiona has mind-reading superpowers. Both seem equally likely.

“Whatever. You may got a yuppie boyfriend buying you whatever you want now, but seems like you’ve got a little southside klepto left in you.”

Fiona takes another hit, nodding to him along with the beat of the music as she blows the smoke away from him - like it would make any difference if she blew smoke in his face at this point. The action makes him laugh. - “Don’t got a boyfriend. Not that it’s your business, fuck you very much.”

Iggy raises an eyebrow at that but leaves it to her to elaborate as he holds out his fingers, making a lazy gesture for the joint. He doesn’t care that much, but he’s pretty sure that girls love to talk, and he doesn’t have anywhere better to be than here - beer, free weed, hot girl as company, and all. Fiona doesn’t elaborate though, just watches him finish off the joint as she’s working on another beer he didn’t notice her stealing.

Once the joint burns down enough that it’s burning his fingers, Iggy squashes it out on the tailgate next to his thigh. There’s a hand around his wrist. Iggy blinks, trying to push through the weed haze settling over his brain, and he realizes that the hand belongs to Fiona, who has hopped down off their shared seat. “Come on, come dance with me.”

Fiona tugs Iggy up close to the blaze that’s going strong, stinking up the empty lot and all the surrounding neighborhoods. There's a lot of bodies thrumming to the beat of the radio around them, but it’s unreasonably hard to focus on more than one thing at once.

Whoever grew this weed knew what the fuck they were doing.

And right in front of everyone, Fiona presses her back against Iggy’s chest and starts rolling her hips against his. Iggy chooses that sensation as his one thing to focus on, resting one hand against her left hip and trying to roll along with her. It takes a moment, but he thinks he gets the hang of it. At least Fiona is laughing, twisting around to wrap an arm around his neck and continuing to grind against him, belly to belly.

Iggy thinks they must spend the entire night dancing pressed against each other like that, but when Fiona pulls away, pulls on his wrist, and tugs him through the fog, he’s surprised to find it’s still dark around them. They’re further away from the fire now, the noise and the heat fading into the distance, the memory of them already faded under the buzzing in his brain.

Fuck, whoever grew this - Kevin, someone said Kevin - really did know what he was doing.

Fiona drags Iggy back to the truck, grabs another beer for each of them, and then again grabs his wrist and tugs him further away from the party, and starts down the block.

Iggy is pretty sure that the house she pulls him into isn’t hers, but he’s never been to hers either, so he can’t exactly swear to it. Fiona kicks her shoes off and flops down on the couch comfortably, grinning up at the ceiling.

He must look confused because, after a moment, she tugs herself into a sitting position and turns to face him. “Are you just gonna stand there all night?”

Iggy blinks. Takes a moment to collect his balance, then makes his way around the couch to sit down next to her. “This your house?” he asks because he’s thinking about it.

“Kev and V’s. too many people at mine.”

Too many people for what, Iggy isn’t sure. He fidgets with the tab on his can of beer and relaxes back into the couch. The two of them sit in fuzzy silence for long enough that it startles Iggy when Fiona is back in his field of vision, up off the couch to turn up a stereo across the room. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “You were more fun when we were dancing,” She declares as she crosses the room and snags his beer, only to set it on the end table and pull him to his feet again.

There's no hesitation from Fiona, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing up against him again, swaying to the end of the slow song playing on the radio. There are fewer things to be distracted by in the pitch black of a stranger’s house than there is at a weed bonfire block party, so while dancing with Fiona is still what he focuses on, Iggy can pause for a moment and think Holy shit.

Fiona Gallagher is dancing with him.

A few hours ago, a few minutes ago, he's not sure, but not long ago, she’d been grinding on him.

The memory of it is hot, and Iggy finds that he’s sliding his hands up under her shirt now. Fiona leans into it, a carefree smile on her face. When the song ends, she pulls away from him and tugs the shirt off. Iggy’s brain short circuits and Fiona has the nerve to press back against him, asking, “This cool with you?” with a smirk on her face.

He manages to stop staring at her chest and pick his eyes up to meet hers long enough to confirm, “Yeah.” It makes her laugh for some reason, and that sound excites him, as does the tone of her following demand of, “Okay, then take yours off, too.”

Having happily gone back to his staring, he doesn’t quite pick up on the actual words, so Fiona decides to help him out, hands coming to either of his hips and tugging upwards on his shirt until all Iggy has to do is lift his arms. He doesn’t see where it is that Fiona throws his shirt too, but he’s not sure that he cares anyway.

He had been expecting her to press into him and start dancing to the beat again, but instead, she’s standing in front of him, undoing her shorts. She struggles a little, buzzed and uncoordinated, but looks up at him once she’s freed of the button, the zipper falling open so that he can see her panties. “You really are just gonna stand there and stare all night, aren’t you?” she asks, laughing when it takes him an inappropriate amount of time to drag his gaze back up to hers.

“No.” He decides, though he still makes no move to do anything but stare.

It's becoming increasingly obvious to Fiona that she’s going to have to guide him through every step she wants to take here, and though the thought makes her roll her eyes, she’s not entirely opposed to it. “Right,” she answers, playful sarcasm dripping from her tone as she steps over to him, repeating the unbuttoning and unzipping with his jeans. Again, she grabs his wrist, this time guiding his hand to her waist and finally resuming their grinding to the middle of a new song playing on the radio.

She thinks he’s starting to get the hint by the time the song ends, so she steps back and shimmies out of her shorts. She stays quiet, looks contemplative at something behind Iggy for a moment.

Kev and V have a ridiculous spiral staircase, and Fiona is not a hundred percent sure that Iggy wouldn’t lose his balance and break his neck on it if she tried to lure him up it. Hell, She’s not a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t break her neck if she tried to go up it. But after a moment of consideration, she looks back at Iggy and decides she likes the idea of being chased. Kev and Veronica do have a really comfortable bed…

She taps Iggy's chest to get his attention, a suggestive look spreading across her face when his eyes meet hers. “I’m gonna go upstairs. Last door on the right at the end of the hall.” Fiona doesn’t wait for a response, but she does reach up behind herself to unclasp her bra and shrug out of it so she can drop it on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. It takes more willpower than she would be happy to admit to force herself not to look back to see if Iggy has caught on that he’s supposed to follow her. When she’s halfway up, she hears the staircase creek behind her and grins.

----

Iggy still feels remarkably fuzzy when he wakes up. Not high, but not exactly not high. It’s mixing wonderfully with the hangover from his beers - Where exactly had he left those? - and making his mouth taste like his head feels, like cotton and fuzz and pressure.

There’s sunlight streaming into the room he’s in, and it smells like flowers, leaving him a little unsure of where he is. He pries his eyes open and looks around, but from where he lays on the bed, he still can’t distinguish where he is. All he can see is an unfamiliar wall, with an unfamiliar window and an unfamiliar dresser pushed against it.

Downstairs, there’s yelling, but there’s also the scent of food, the promise of which is enough to get Iggy to drag his ass out of the comfortable bed. He looks around helplessly for a minute, but unable to locate his boxers, he decides to dig in the dresser for a pair instead.

“In my bed? In my fucking bed, Fiona? Actually,” the yelling gets louder as Iggy approaches the stairs and starts to make his very slow way down them. “Actually, in my house at all? You couldn’t have picked anywhere else in Chicago to take your dirty white boy to hook up?”

Fiona is sitting at the counter with her head in her hands and her back to him, while a very animated woman moves around the kitchen. The woman - Victoria? Has to be something with a V, since everyone calls her that. - hip bumps the great weed curator out of the way of the stove so she can plate a couple of eggs and some toast to bring over to Fiona. “We’re gonna have to burn the sheets now, you know that, right? And for fuck’s sake, Iggy Milkovich-”

Whatever secondary rant she’d been preparing to launch into is cut off momentarily by the question her husband asks after turning around and catching sight of Iggy. “Are those my boxers?”

Iggy looks down at them, shrugs, then looks back up with a dopey grin. “Yeah. Sorry, man. Eggs?” He comes to join Fiona on her side of the little breakfast nook, grinning and digging in when a confused, hesitant-looking Kev sets a plate of eggs down in front of him.

Beside him, Fiona and V have started up again, so he looks up to Kev and asks through his mouthful of eggs, “Are they always this loud when they gossip?”

Neither one of the offending gossips quiet. Either they didn’t hear him, or they just didn’t care.

Kev looks exasperated. “You have no idea, man.” He sets his spatula down next to the stove and reaches behind his ear as he comes to lean across from Iggy. “Joint?”

[mjsarcastic]

SPOILERS FOR SHAMELESS

I watch the finale of Shameless, and damn it, I'm pissed off. WTF kind of ending was that???

Where was the resolution? Why were there so many random subplots thrown in literally twenty minutes into the episode? Why is Ian and Mickey and Kev and V the only two good pairings left on the show? Are you really trying to convince me that Tami, after spending literally the ENTIRE season telling Lip they had to move out of the Gallagher house, suddenly decided it was fine if they stayed and raised a possible second baby? Did anyone even find out about Frank dying? Did they really end this amazing show slowly gone down hill by basically leaving the entire cast singing fucking Kumbaya and pretending like they weren't all about to go through a bunch of shit? What the hell kind of writing went into this episode?

Sorry about the rant, I'm just upset that this was how this show I loved so much ended. I love the cast, I love the characters (besides Tami. I want Mandy or even Sierra back,) and I love this show. But come on! I can't be the only one who agrees that this was a terrible ending to a truly amazing show.

So, to make up for it, here's my alternative:

We start out in the morgue of a hospital, where Frank lays dead on a table, and when a nearby physician asks if he had any other family, Fiona is revealed to be standing there with a frown as she replies that he did (my mom pointed out that she was probably still his emergency contact even after Fiona left, and I agree.) Later, at Frank's wake, and after a reunion between Fiona and her siblings where she has to reveal the news, there's a small get together at the Alibi where Frank had been cremated and put in an empty bottle of whiskey that sits on a little table, and all the Gallagher's are there and give small speeches.

Liam is the most distraught out of all of them, and he finally stands up for himself and tells the gang that Frank cared for him more then they ever had, and he announces he had been accepted into a STEM school in, like, California or something and heads off because this kid deserves better, but of course he makes up with his family then heads off using his cut of the house money made from selling the house.

Speaking of, Lip stills manages to sell the house to that Shelby guy and invests in opening a bike shop with Brad and some of their old coworkers, and there happens to be an apartment for rent above said garage he rents out with the promise to Tami that she, him, Fred, and their possible new baby would be in a nice house by the end of the year. Yada, yada, I hate the pairing but it's pretty much too late to change it, so go with it.

Debbie, unfortunately, doesn't realize that her new girlfriend what's-her-name is basically her Jimmy-Steve and goes to El Paso with her, bringing Franny along, which is pretty unfortunate but there isn't enough room in the episode for Debbie to realize she jumped back into a relationship way too soon.

Ian and Mickey, my favorite pairing on the show, pretty much have the same storyline as in the episode with the discussion of kids and such included. I moved their anniversary up to a bit later, since my idea includes a short few month time skip, so bare with me here. Just know that they still had the anniversary party in the Alibi.

Carl decided to buy the Alibi as suggested in the show, and a few months later, there's a reopening where everyone attends including Fiona, who stayed to help, and Kev and V, who had flown back with their girls to attend the reopening before they officially moved to Kentucky and never looked back. Debbie isn't there, I honestly wouldn't expect her to be, but Liam is and so is Lip and Tami, and due to the success of Lip and Brad's bike shop, the pair were planning on renting a house soon where they could raise Fred AND their new baby...sarcastic yaaay. Fiona plans to go back on her travels later that night, Liam and Kev and V plan to leave to their seperate places the next day, as do Lip and Tami, while Carl stays and acts as a cop and a bar owner. There's a painting of Frank with a glass of beer raised and a smile on his face that Carl had commissioned.

And as the camera zooms away from the bar, as the Gallagher's all pour out and begin to go their seperate ways while a recording of them singing the same song in the real finale plays, the new name of the Alibi is revealed to be called "Frank's."

Finally, at the end, Frank stands on the beach in front of a barrel fire like how the series started, and he says the same thing he said in the real finale before he drinks from a bottle of beer, makes a toast to the audience by saying, "And to, you glorious bastards, for watching the Gallagher's suffer for your amusement for the past ten years. Here's to you, you motherfuckers!" And the camera zooms out away from him as the song finishes, and the credits roll for the last time.

Bonus credits scene: Tommy and Kermit sit at the new Alibi and stare at the painting of Frank as Kermit asks if the painting would follow him like the Mona Lisa, and when he tests it out, the whiskey bottle full of Frank's ashes that sits on a shelf under the painting falls and breaks into pieces, and Tommy and Kermit look at each other with the thought that Frank now haunted the place, and then, it cuts to black.

There it is; my alternate plot. Don't like it? Well, it's not canon, so move on with your life and deal with the real ending like the rest of us have to.

GOODBYE SHAMELESS. THANKS FOR ALL THE GOOD TIMES, AND THE BAD TIMES!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

130lb Ukrainian Courage pt.19 - Bachelor party cont.

Mandy and Svet are God damn pros. Mandy somehow finds a free booth and whilst Svet slides through the crowd to get to the bar, neither of them missing a beat.

“Right. Hold this booth, do not let anyone steal it.”

Mandy orders her big brother’s, shouting to be heard over the music.

They both nod and sit on either side of the glitter covered table. It is something of a shame that no one in the Milkovich family ever took an interest in football because they would have made incredible defence linesmen. No one would get past them and the few people that try and gesture to the empty seats in the booth they have claimed are quickly dispersed. Iggy lounges back in his chair and gives Mickey a considering look that instantly makes Mickey squirm.

“What?”

“When did you know you were gay?”

It’s an unexpected question and Mickey sucks his lower lip, wondering how best to answer and whether to answer at all. Ordinarily he’d tell Iggy to mind his own fuckin’ business but he’s in an unusually good mood and his brother coming to a club like this … well, Mickey is a little touched by the gesture. Especially after everything that has happened lately.

“I didn’t. Not til Ian.”

“Seriously? You never looked at any other dude and thought ‘Fuck yeah I’d hit that … whoah! I’m a fag!”  

“Fuck off!”

Mickey shakes his head grinning, middle finger raised to his brother’s face.

“Nah man, I tried hard not to look at anyone or anything. Figured if I ignored it, it’d go away, you know?”

Iggy nods, accepting this as just another odd quirk about his little bro. Iggy isn’t someone who thinks about things too deeply. Not because he can’t, it’s just that he prefers not to. Some people, like Mickey, seem to over think every little thing and get worried about shit easily. Iggy doesn’t get that sort of concern. He often wants to shake his brother and say ‘Man, who the fuck even cares?’. Looking over at him now, Iggy realises that his question has sparked off one of those weird thought spirals Mickey gets and decides to cut it short.

“Hey, Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever look at my dick?”

“Ew! Fuck you!”

Mickey laughs, rolling his eyes and wishing Mandy and Svet would hurry up. Mission accomplished, Iggy grins and waits for his beer to show up.

*

On the other side of the room Ian is waiting for his own beer. Debbie went ages ago and Fiona’s hip flask is running dangerously low. Kev and V haven’t touched theirs yet but at this rate they’re going to be buying all their drinks before midnight.

“What’s with the frown?”

Fi leans over and kisses the crease between Ian’s brows.

“Nothing, just … thirsty!”

Ian winces as the word leaves his lips, it is one of many, many words which earn him shots. Thirsty, hung, ball, wood … the list is pretty endless and sure enough Fi, V and Lip start drum rolling on the table as Kev lines him up a sly shot glass of smuggled vodka.

“Fuck! Guys, I’m never gonna make it through the night.”

Ian shuddered as the alcohol coursed through his system. His head felt light and the bright lights of the club seemed to pulse in time with the music, which there was a damn good chance they were. Everything felt too close, not in a bad way, but he’d have felt better if Mickey was there. Lip wasn’t wrong when he teased that Mickey was like a guard dog when it came to Ian, he had been for years really. Since the early days when Ian started working at the White Swallow, Mickey always showed up and watched for trouble. He guarded Ian with a loyalty that Ian had never known from anyone else and now, without Mickey there, the club feels too big, too loud.

“I need to dance!”

He declared suddenly and stood up. He was not going to act like a needy little bitch on his own bachelor party. Mickey was probably out at a dive bar having a great time and Ian would do the same.

Fiona grabbed his left hand, V grabbed his right and together they swayed drunkenly onto the dance floor. Ian felt better as soon as he began to move. It was like poetry, his body responded to the music and took him along with it and his anxieties began to vanish into the rhythms.

“Oh fuck!”

Fiona laughs and Ian grins hazily at her

“What?”

“Your fiance is here!”

“Mickey?”

Ian can’t help the hopeful note that enters his voice and V gives him a curious look

“You got more than one?”

Ian shoves her arm playfully and his eyes follow Fiona’s discreet point. Sure enough, there is a little  gaggle of Milkovich’s at a booth on the other side of the dance floor.

“Challenge them to a dance off?”

“Oh shit! West Side Story rumble!”

Fiona screams excitedly

“Bitch, you crazy? I ain’t takin’ on no damn Milkovich in a knife fight! Little fuckers were probably born cradlin’ a blade!”

V shrieks and then flaps an apologetic hand at the wide eyed look Ian gives her

“You know what I mean!”

“Mhmm.”

Ian gives her one more disapproving glance and then looks back to Mickey’s table with a little smile. He had no idea that Mandy was going to bring him to a Gay bar and the fact that Iggy is here too will mean a lot to Mickey, even  if he isn’t letting on.

“You want to go say hi?”

“No.”

Ian shakes his head, he isn’t being conceited but he knows that Mickey will gravitate towards him once he knows they are both in the same club. He won’t be able to help himself. Ian knows this because it is exactly what he is feeling at this moment and he thinks of all the times Mickey has watched him in clubs and smiles at the thought of quietly watching over Mickey for a change.

*

Mandy and Svetlana disappear off to the ladies room and Iggy disappears into the cloud of dry ice. Mickey sighs in contentment at the moment of solitude. He checks his phone and sees a message from Ian.

I: Have a great night Sexy.

Mickey smirks and types back quickly

M:U too. Missing ur ass.

Three little dots signifying Ian typing back appear almost immediately and Mickey smiles to himself, pleased that Ian is wanting to talk to him, even on his big night out.

I: Miss urs more. What u doing?

M: Waiting 4 drinks. In Boystown w/ Iggy!!!!

I: No way!? Thats cool of him! Having fun?

M: Yeah. Better if you were here.

I: <3

Mickey hesitates, glances over his shoulder self-consciously and then sends back

M: <3 <3

He puts his phone back in his pocket and drums his fingers on the table top. His earlier level of drunkenness is creeping back up and he realises that he’s got a raging boner pressing against his zipper just at the thought of his fiance.

“Jesus Christ.”

Mickey mutters, spreading his legs, letting his hand casually hang down to cover himself and tries to think of things to distract his stupid dick from its hopeless mission. Looking around he sees a couple of redhead lovers making out and hastily squeezes his eyes shut tight. That ain’t gonna help. Mickey studies his hands for a moment and glances up hoping to see Mandy coming back with more beers, instead he sees Svetlana making out with some chick with a buzz cut and a short leather skirt. Svetlana is grinding up against the woman and rocking her hips suggestively in time with the music.

“Oh thank fuck!”

Mickey sighs in relief and watches them kiss until his body is completely back under his control. He wonders how pissed Svetlana would be to know that he just used her to lose an erection he didn’t want. The thought makes him grin and he practically cackles in delight at the thought of telling her next time she annoys him. Tonight is awesome!  

Iggy reappears a few minutes later with glow sticks, a tub of florescent body paint and missing his shirt. At Mickey’s questioning frown, Iggy waves the tub at him happily

“Traded it for this! Paint me up, bro!”

Mickey takes the little tub of pink paint and curls his lip disdainfully as Iggy puffs out his chest, hands on hips.

“You traded a shirt for this shit?”

“Everyone’s wearing it! Do me, then do you.”

“Pink ain’t my colour man.”

Mickey shakes his head and dips his finger into the paint.

“Yeah well it’s gonna be mine! Make it all trippy and shit, like swirls and stuff ...”

“Uh huh…”

Mickey nods and helps Iggy do a few swirls and dots. The stuff does actually look pretty fricken’ sweet when it dries. Iggy dips his index fingers into the tub and swipes the paint in two high stripes beneath his eyes.

“Do my back!”

Iggy orders and Mickey tongues his lip impatiently. He dabs a few more swirls onto Iggy’s broad back and then gets bored.

“I can feel you slowing down! Just do something fuckin’ big and stop being a bitch.”

Iggy grins over his shoulder and Mickey’s eyebrows touch his hairline and he is about to shove the paint back into Iggy’s hands and tell him to paint his sweaty, gross back himself when he gets a better idea.

“Okay, done.”

Mickey nods and claps Iggy’s shoulder

“Cool! Okay I’m gonna go score us some more coke. Back in a bit.”

Mickey nods and watches Iggy navigate through the crowd, a giant, glowing pink cock running up his spine and erupting in a shower of swirling pink jizz at the base of his neck.

*

Mandy does a double take as Iggy weaves past her. Laughing, she wonders who the hell did that to him until she sees Mickey using his front camera to dab awkwardly at his face with the same paint.

“Hey! Picasso! Iggy’s gonna kill you!”

She yells, putting down the drinks. Mickey answers her with a wide cheeky grin and hands her the paint pot.

“Can you do me?”

“Cock or no cock?”

“Bitch, if you paint a dick on me ...”

Mandy waves off the last of the unfinished threat with a giggle and gestures for Mickey to sit.

“Check you out getting into your party!”

“Yeah. Thanks by the way.”

“No problem.”

Mandy is utterly relieved that Mickey is having a good time. Neither of them have ever had a birthday party or anything like this before and she just wanted it to be right for him.

“Have you seen Svet?”

“Muff diving a skin head.”

Mandy rolls her eyes but it doesn’t really matter. Mickey and Svetlana get on okay but she knows Mickey isn’t really going to care whether she actually hangs out with them or not. It’s enough that she came.

“Iggy’s getting some coke.”

“Cool! I’ll stick with my version!”

Mandy lifts her cola bottle and winks at her brother who grimaces

“Sure you don’t want me to find the fucker who knocked you up and knock his teeth out?”

He yells over the music and Mandy scrunches his hair in mock annoyance before smoothing it back.

“I’m getting you a dance!”

“What?”

“I’m getting you a DANCE!”

“No … Hey! Mand … Fuck!”

Mickey watches her go with mounting horror. He’s pretty fucking trashed but he’s not that trashed, not even close and Mickey realises that the only way to avoid having some Twinks junk shoved in his face is to disappear. He can see the tip of a familiar fluorescent penis a few paces away and lunges, grabbing Iggy’s arm and dragging him into the booth.

“You’re getting a dance! Don’t fuckin’ move!”

“Right on! I want a Bear! Get me a big guy!”

Iggy spreads his arms welcomingly and Mickey takes his opportunity to run.

*

Ian watches as Mickey darts into the crowd and tried to follow his movements but the smaller man is quickly swallowed in the throbbing mass of dancers. He wants to follow but Lip is pulling at his sleeve and Ian allows his eyes to turn reluctantly to his brother.

“Your present is here!”

“My what?”

“Your present! Your stripper!”

“Oh fuck!”

Ian rolls his eyes but grins lopsidedly as Lip and Kev push and pull him back onto a couch. Ian looks around for the college kid trying to earn some extra cash. All of a sudden, two powerful thighs are straddling Ian’s lap and he looks up at the beautifully built man above him.

“Hey babe. I’m Steve!”

“Ian!”

Lip answers for his brother who is struck momentarily speechless. The guy is built like a boxer, maybe thirty-five years old, with dark eyes and a shock of jet black hair swept back. He has tattoos up his arms and when he turns around, there is another peeking out of the sequin trunks. Ian closes his eyes and tries to guess what the illustration on the perfect, muscular ass might be.

V, Fiona and Debbie are all cheering and Kev is watching with a calculating fascination but all Ian can do is grip the faux leather seat pat beneath his thighs and pray that he doesn’t humiliate himself entirely.

“You can touch if you want to, beautiful.”

Steve’s voice is soft, but not South Side – not even Chicago. He sounds Southern or certainly heading towards that way. Ian shakes his head softly

“It’s my bachelor party.”

Steve gives him a nod of understanding and Ian settles back to watch him, feeling better about the whole thing. Once upon a time he would have loved this, but at best all he can say is that he doesn’t really mind it. Maybe it is all the horrible shit that has gone down the last few weeks, maybe it is just that he is truly committed to Mickey and their relationship now, but whatever it is, Ian doesn’t really want anything that Steve has to offer. Yes, he is gorgeous (Ian had heard Lip say something about being ‘like a tonk version of Mickey’) but he wasn’t Mickey and so Ian just didn’t have that much interest.

All the same, he tips heavily and grins lasciviously at all around him as if he has just had the treat of his life.

“Wanna ride the bull next?”

Lip asks, nodding toward one of the back rooms and Ian shrugs. He’s heard of the famous mechanical bull of boys town, a way to show off your wears all in the name of ‘good fun’ and most who ride it are looking for something more than a round of applause. On the other hand, it’s his party and Steve has hashed his buzz a little, so Ian figures he could do with livening up and he’s pretty sure he’ll look hot as Hell on it and if Mickey happens to see then maybe they can sneak off after ...

“Sure! Why not?”

He grins and hops on Lip’s back pointing dramatically onward

“Let’s go!”

He glances around for Mickey as he makes his way through the crowd and at one point swears he sees a guy wearing Mickey’s shirt but tells himself not to be ridiculous – plenty of guys wear button downs like that, it doesn’t mean it’s Mickeys.

“Holy fuck!”

Lip stops so suddenly Ian walks into the back of him with a soft thud. He is about to ask what is going on when he sees what it was that caused Lip’s freeze.

Beneath the pulsing blue and white lights, hips writhing and hands locked behind his head, Mickey Milkovich is riding the bull.

He isn’t just riding it.

He. Is. Riding. IT.

Ian feels his dick leap in his pants, so startling in it’s immediacy that it actually makes him gasp. He has never seen his boyfriend look so fucking sexy.

His teeth are set in his lip in concentration and his eyes are closed, biceps bulging out of a sleeveless Hawaiian shirt that he definitely did not own when the night started.

“What is it with him and those shirts?”

Lip yells over the music and although it is a question Ian would also like an answer too, his mouth is far too dry to try and speak. Mickey’s got body paint across his face, chest and arms in a series of neat patterns that make it look like his is glowing from within and in a way, that is exactly what he is doing.

Ian’s eyes trail down Mickey’s body, to his hips which are moving in ways that make Ian swear that first thing in the morning he is buying a full length mirror for their room and setting it up next to the bed. And further down, to his thighs, each thick with muscle gripping the plastic sides of the bull with a force that has several nearby men palming their pants and looking very, very fucking interested in just how much static force those isometrics can create. Even Lip is looking grudgingly impressed.

“I can see why you look so happy sometimes.”

He yells up at Ian who thumps him playfully on the arm.

Ian is about to say something back when a movement catches his eyes and a tall, built, red-head dashes across the padded area around the bull and leap frogs up behind Mickey, wrapping his hands around is waist and moving in perfect rhythm.

“Oh fuck!”

Ian looks round wildly for a bouncer, Mickey is having an amazing night and some asshole is about to ruin it by pissing him off and getting the shit kicked out of his grabby ass.

“Lip, do something! Mickey’s gonna fuckin’ kill that prick!”

Ian cries but Lip shakes his head and nods back to the bull.

“Seems okay to me.”

Ian whirls back to face the bull and jealousy floods his mind. Mickey is not beating the shit out of the guy, he’s leaning back into him, a small smirk on his lips and letting the guy bend him forward slightly …

Ian is moving before he has fully realised what he is about to do. He yanks the redhead off and his fist connects with fashionably stubbled jaw sending him sprawling backwards. He is dimly aware of Mickey calling his name, Lip pulling at his arms and the leap-frogger trying to crawl away but more than anything, Ian is aware that someone was trying to violate what is his.

“IAN!”

Tattooed fingers grip the fabric of his shirt and push him backwards, Ian’s heel catches on one of the safety mats and they crash over backwards together. Mickey lands on Ian’s chest with a soft ‘OOF!’ and Ian wraps his arms around him tightly.

“You’re okay. You’re okay Mick.”

He mumbles into the dark hair beneath his lips, squeezing Mickey’s arms as he slowly comes back into himself and the room around him.

“I know I am! What the fuck you playing at?”

Mickey pushes himself upright and runs a hand through his hair, looking around them. No one is staring, fights are not uncommon, and Lip seems to be smoothing things over with the security guard. The would-be suitor seems to have dragged himself away to lick his wounds or find someone to lick them for him and even the bull is still.

“What the fuck was that?”

“He was touching you and then he bent you forward like ...”

Ian shakes his head and presses his lips together.

“Hey. Hey fuck it man, it’s okay. I wasn’t in any trouble but its nice to know you got my back.”

Mickey lifts his lips in a small smirk and ruffles Ian’s hair.

“I’m sorry I spoiled it for you. Jesus. You looked really hot too.”

“What?”

“You looked really …”

The music swells as Ian wrinkles his nose in annoyance.

“BATHROOM?”

He bellows and Mickey nods, offering him a hand up.

*

The bathroom wasn’t much quieter but once Ian had them walled inside one of the tiny cubicles, the outside world felt at least a little muffled.

“You okay?”

Mickey asks as soon and Ian sits down on the toilet seat and pulls Mickey onto his lap, burying his head in the shorter man’s chest. He laughs a little at the question. So typical of Mickey to worry about Ian first.

“Yeah. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Mick.”

“Don’t worry about it. He had about two inches left of wandering hands before I did it myself.”

Mickey grins and kisses the top of Ian’s head.

“Did you enjoy your dance from that gorilla guy?”

“You saw that?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow

“I saw the beginning of it but uh … I’m kind of jealous. Figured it’d be best if I didn’t stick around.”

Ian laughs and rolls his eyes

“Turns out I’m a jealous fucker too.”

“Comes from a good place, man. You sure you’re okay?”

Ian nods. He doesn’t want to get into the weird feeling that crept over him so suddenly when that guy was manhandling Mickey but somehow he knows that Mickey gets it. Even calling it a good place, when they both know there was probably a lot of dark shit at play. That’s the thing with Mickey and Ian, when one of them is lost, the other one always gets it.

“You wanna go dance?” “You serious? Mickey Milkovich asking me to dance in a club?”

“Alright. Fuck you, go dance by yourself...”

Mickey pretends to get up and Ian tugs him down with a noise of distress.

“Hang on! First you need to tell me where you got that shirt.”

Mickey grins cheekily and thumbs his bottom lip

“Arm wrestled for it.”

“Why?”

Ian laughs

“Cause it’s sexy and I like the colours.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian kisses Mickey, both of them smiling into the warmth of it.

After a minute Mickey gets off Ian’s lap, dropping to his knees and working at the belt buckle holding up Ian’s pants.

“Fuck dancing. I can think of something better to do ...”

[bcntnotbrokcn]

It was supposed to be a nice family Thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving since Mickey and Ian had gotten married, actually. Everyone was there, even Mandy had managed to fly in for a couple days -- and it didn’t seem like Lip minded seeing her in the least bit. Svetlana didn’t want to join, but Kev and V had Yevgeny and were there with their daughters, too. And for once, between everyone’s decent jobs, they were having a real feast -- turkey with all the trimmings, ham, sweet potato pie, mashed potatoes and gravy -- you name it and they had it. And everyone was having a great time, wine (or beer, in cases of some of the guys) in everyone’s hands (that weren’t children, of course -- they had sparkling grape juice), and everyone had helped set the table, talking loudly. The house was filled with noise of excitement and love, everyone shouting over each other, laughter abundant. It was only when everyone finally sat down to eat that things got a little out of hand.

Frank had chosen that time to show up, drunk as ever. And for the most part, people were able to ignore him, digging into their food and enjoying each other’s company. Lip and Mandy had chosen to sit next to each other, getting a little too close in Ian’s opinion, but both smiling in a way he hadn’t seen either smile in a while. And while Yevgeny was the blonde fish out of water, he also seemed to be enjoying himself, letting Mickey and Ian dote on him the entire time -- well, Ian more than anyone, he was obsessed with that kid and had no problems showing it.

It wasn’t until Frank decided to address Ian and Mickey that things took a turn. “So, married, huh? Really should have skipped that part, only ruins things. Turns good relationships bad. Why fuck everything up with a piece of paper?” Ian raised his eyebrows, but ignored the old man, putting more mashed potatoes on Yev’s plate and handing it to the boy. “Let me tell you from experience -- get out while you can. Be together, sure -- there’s nothing wrong with that, I had my fair share of homosexual experiences in my day.” Ian rolled his eyes. “Love and be loved! Great thing. But choosing to be together for the rest of your life, and knowing you’re stuck are two very different things, boys.”

Ian let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Frank. Being legally married didn’t seem to stop you and Monica. Didn’t seem like you ever thought that you were stuck together.” Fiona glanced over at the two from her conversation with V, but didn’t say a word. “I’ll admit, Monica and I had our speed bumps. But let that be a lesson to you two. You two are a lot like Monica and myself -- wild and free, and you with your bipolar. And isn’t being legally forced to be together just make you feel a little -- constrained? With your genetics, you might want to watch out. Monica hopped the fence all the time, without a care in the world -- you are your mother’s son, and before you know it, you’re going to be falling down the rabbit hole just like her.”

Most of the conversations at the table had stopped by this point, everyone watching the exchange with baited breath, glancing between the two like they were watching some kind of race. Ian pursed his lips, nodding a bit, setting his napkin down on the table, before looking at his father. “You think? I don’t know, Frank. Monica habitually stopped taking her meds. All the time, wasn’t on them for more than a few months at a time. I, on the other hand, have been on my meds consistently for about --” He quickly did the math in his head, shrugging as he briefly looked at Mickey for confirmation. “Four, five years now? Something like that.” He nodded, looking back at Frank. “I’m not -- nor will I ever be -- Monica. Same illness, different people.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. “You think? I don’t know. Like I said -- you two are a lot like Monica and myself. And I thought she was the greatest thing to happen to me. I was so in love with her. And then she’d go off the rails. I’m just saying, son, life isn’t always easy and with your illness, it may affect you more than the average person. I mean, look at your history with this guy. He was a thug back then and -- people don’t ever really change, son. They can be good at pretending they have, but deep down, they’re always the same person. So be careful with this one, he might be what sets you off.”

Ian narrowed his eyes at Frank, hand turning into a fist below the table, shoulders and jaw tensing. Everyone at the table could see the fire in his eyes. “We’ve got pie!” Fiona suddenly announced. “Let’s have some pie! V, go get the pie, yeah? Kids, you should help her.” V nodded quickly, ushering the four children -- Franny included -- into the kitchen.

Ian ignored Fiona, eyes still shooting fire at Frank. He stood up from his spot, and Frank did the same, watching as Ian walked over to him, face inches away from his father’s. “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand, Frank,” he spat, voice as cold as ice. His fist flexed next to him, and he had to physically fight himself from punching his father’s lights out. “You’re right, people don’t change deep down. But the thing is -- Mickey didn’t. Because deep down, he was always the person he is now. Was he a thug? Sure. And I’ll be the first one to say that we were toxic for each other growing up. Him hurting me, me hurting him, beating the shit out of each other -- whatever. But he’s always been fucking amazing, and he’s the reason I’m okay.”

”Do you get that? He’s the reason why I fight every day, why I deal with my illness as well as I do. Because he helps me, and he’s there for me without hesitation, in the blink of an eye he is right by my side. So maybe we were bad for each other in the beginning. But you know the difference is between us and you and Monica? Mickey and I grew up. You two never learned how to do that. So say another thing about Mickey. I dare you. Because if you do -- I will fucking murder you. Do you understand me? I will kill you where you stand if you even think another thought about my husband.”

Frank just seemed amused at Ian’s anger. “You’ve got your mother’s spirit, that’s for sure. Might get you into trouble some time in the future. You are a Gallagher too, after all.” Ian clenched his jaw. “I claim no relation to you.” Frank let out a laugh. “You think Clayton is living an apple pie life? He’s miserable. Always thinking about what he could have had with Monica if I hadn’t been around. Now he’s stuck with that crazy wife of his.” The corner’s of Ian’s lips twitched upwards, though the amusement was anything if not malicious. “Guess you both got fucked over in that department, huh?”

Frank’s eyes finally narrowed, something Ian said finally getting to him. “Then you better watch out, because you’re just as crazy as she was. Even tried to kill yourself before, didn’t you? In and out of institutions. On meds for the rest of your life. Remember, any amount of crazy she was, you’re right along there with her, kid.”

That hit somewhere deep inside Ian, something he was afraid of happening to him -- ending up like Monica, having a family with Mickey and then just going off the rails and abandoning him. He wasn’t like her. He couldn’t be like her. “I was in an institution one time, Frank. I thought about killing myself one time. And you know who stopped me? Him! --” he pointed to Mickey without even looking his direction, still glaring daggers at the old man. “-- He did for me what you could never do for her. He saved me. You just let her drown. He makes sure I’m okay, he makes sure I take my meds. You -- you encouraged her not to! He’s a fucking angel and you’re just -- toxic sludge that deserves to be disposed of.” 

Ian swallowed hard, taking a step back from his father. “You know the main difference is between our relationships? People don’t need to like someone to be in love with them, Frank. They really don’t. The difference is, I like Mickey. He’s my best friend. I am so happy each and every day to be with him. I don’t need the drugs, or the fights, or the schemes -- I’m happy being simple and mundane and boring because I get to look at his face every day. But you and her -- maybe she just didn’t like you, Frank. And being off her meds and racing through life was the only way that she could deal with the fact that she loved an alcoholic, toxic, no good piece of shit asshole like you.”

Frank and Ian stared at each other for a long moment after that, neither moving, both seeming like they could breathe fire if they wanted to. Finally, Ian broke the stare down, walking over to his seat and sitting down, still clearly seething. Fiona glanced at him, before looking around the table, seemingly at a loss for words. “Uh -- pie?”

“Fucking ungrateful brat,” Frank muttered, walking towards the kitchen. But as he walked behind Ian’s chair, he paused for just a moment -- long enough to decide his next action. He grabbed the back of Ian’s head and slammed his face down on the table, sneering. There were cries of ‘what the fuck, Frank?!’ and ‘Ian!’ around the table as Ian groaned, lifting his head up and touching his face -- blood. A good amount, too. “Fuck!”

@mkvch