Pumpkins
Mickey had texted Ian over an hour ago, telling him to meet him at the dugouts. He didn't need to wait for a reply before heading over there—Gallagher never turned him down. But after half an hour of just sitting there, Mickey started to worry that maybe he had been a little too cocky (no pun intended) in assuming the redhead would just show up.
He spent the next thirty minutes pacing back and forth and debating whether or not he should call Ian and see what the hell was taking him so long. It was the middle of October and it was already cold out—too cold to just waste his time outdoors for no good fucking reason.
What about fucking? his conscience wondered. Is that a good enough reason?
No, he refused to call. He didn't want Ian to think he cared or some shit like that.
And showing up in front of his house is better? his mind teased as Mickey walked up the steps to the front door. He stood there for a few minutes, not sure if he was really doing this. What excuse would he give Ian's sister Fiona for being there? Maybe he would say he was looking for Mandy or something... but if his smart-ass brother Lip was the one to open the door, he'd know that Mickey's story of wanting to see his sister was absolute bullshit.
He was still standing in front of the door and running through the possible scenarios of the different lies he could tell to make it plausible for him to be there when the door was opened. The younger Gallagher sister stood in front of him, her red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She took one look at him and then turned around and walked back towards the kitchen.
"Mickey Milkovich is at the door," he heard her say. To who, he wasn't sure yet.
"Hey Mick! Come in!" came Ian's voice calling from the back of the house.
Mickey hesitantly took a step inside.
"Close the door! It's fucking freezing out," someone else yelled.
"Language, Carl!" Debbie said, hitting her younger brother upside the head.
"Ian! Debbie just hit me!" Carl whined.
"Well, you know you're not supposed to swear," the ginger replied, stifling a laugh.
Mickey shut the door behind him and slowly walked into the house. He still felt out of place whenever he was at the Gallaghers' place. He'd only been inside a handful of times, and only because Ian had assured him that no one else was home. Mickey wouldn't have bothered going those few times if not for the amazing blowjobs he'd received as thanks.
This was definitely not going to be one of those times, if the scene in the kitchen was anything to go by. Ian was elbows deep in a giant pumpkin, sleeves of his plaid shirt rolled up as high up as they could go, revealing biceps that made Mickey remember all the times the redhead had used them to hold him up against the wall while ramming into him.
"What are you doing here?" Ian asked with a smile, snapping Mickey out of his slight tangent.
"I texted you and you didn't show up," he said matter-of-factly.
"Oh. Sorry... I haven't looked at my phone in a while." He held up his dirty hands by way of explanation.
Gallagher was okay—Mickey'd seen him, and he was fine, so he turned to go. He was getting uncomfortable standing there like an idiot.
"Wait, Mick. Don't go yet. Why don't you stay and carve pumpkins with us?"
Mickey barked out a laugh. "Yeah, right..."
"I'm serious. I'll even thank you in the usual way," Ian added, giving him a wink.
Mickey's eyes darted to Gallagher's siblings, but they were completely oblivious, engrossed in their own pumpkin carving.
"Where's everyone else?" he wondered.
"Fiona's away at some kind of training thing for work. She left Lip and I in charge of the kids for the weekend."
"So where's Lip then?"
"He and Mandy went out to dinner and to the movies," Ian said, shrugging. "I doubt they'll be back anytime soon."
Mickey bit his bottom lip, unsure. The whole thing was weird. He and Gallagher didn't just hang out around other people. He looked at the door. He wanted to leave...
"Please?" Ian said, and of course he had to look at Mickey with those hopeful, pleading fucking eyes.
"Fine," Mickey grunted. "Where's my pumpkin?"
Ian pointed to the extra pumpkins by the back door. Mickey walked over and picked an average sized one up. He took a knife off the table and cut off the top of the pumpkin, then used the stem to pull the top off. He took off his hoodie so as not to dirty his sleeves; he had a tank top on underneath it. He dug in with his now-bare hands.
They were all silent as they worked hard gutting their respective pumpkins, the only sound coming from Gallagher's youngest sibling, Liam, who was playing happily by himself in his play pen.
Debbie was the first one to finish emptying hers, and she plopped the last handful of seeds into their discard bowl victoriously.
"Done!" she bragged.
"Calm down, Debs. It wasn't a race!" Ian told her. "So what kind of face are you going to make?"
"I want to make something scary. What do you think?"
"Hmm. Scary sounds good. You should draw it on with marker first so that it's easier to cut."
He passed her the Sharpie that was on the table beside him, getting it covered in sticky pumpkin guts.
"Drawing it out ain't gonna do shit," Mickey said, just as he finished emptying his pumpkin out too. "These knives are too dull."
He whipped out his butterfly knife and flipped it open.
"Whoa! Do it again!" Carl said as he watched Mickey with the knife.
"Oh, you think that's cool?" Mickey asked. "Watch this."
He held the blade by the safe handle and fanned it out, showing the kids some of the tricks he could do with it.
"Where'd you learn that?" Debbie asked, also mesmerized by the movements of the blade.
"Just picked it up. You're brother's not so bad, either," he told them, looking at Gallagher. The redhead was blushing at the compliment. That was the thing with Ian—he wore his emotions on his sleeve.
"Can you show me how?" Carl asked excitedly.
Mickey turned to Gallagher and at the redhead's nod, started showing the younger kids all the different parts of the knife.
"Okay, sure. This balisong's a Spiderfly, but there are lots of different kinds. Here's the safe handle. You have to make sure you always hold it from here. You can tell because it has the latch on it," he said, pointing it out. "The other one's the bite handle. Then you have the pivot pins, this part here is called the kicker and the actual blade is called the edge on this side."
"What's the other side called?" Debbie asked. He was surprised she was so interested but impressed that she was paying attention.
"It's called the swedge."
"No it's not! You're making that up!"
"Ay, you callin' me a liar?"
"Is he lying, Ian?" Carl looked at his brother for confirmation.
"Yeah, it really is called the swedge," Ian said, laughing. He held his hand out for the knife and Mickey cringe as the redhead got it all sticky with his dirty fingers. They spent the next twenty minutes showing the kids a few of the easier flips with the blade, and then went back to carving their pumpkins.
"It's late. We'll look for candles tomorrow," Ian said to the young ones when they'd all finished. "You two, go upstairs and get cleaned up while I throw everything out." Carl and Debbie raced each other up the stairs arguing about who would get to use the shower first. Mickey found himself thinking of Mandy when she was little. Everything was always a competition with them too, because they'd been so close in age. Ian's siblings reminded him of those times.
"Hang around," Ian said softly into Mickey's ear from behind him. "They'll be asleep in no time," he added, grinning as he carried the bowl of pumpkin guts to the garbage. Mickey would be lying if he said that he didn't get goosebumps on the side of his neck from where Ian's breath had touched it.
He helped Gallagher throw away all the newspapers they'd used to line the kitchen table after he had washed the gunk from his knife.
Ian carried a sleeping Liam up the stairs and didn't return for another twenty minutes. By then, Mickey was sitting on the couch in the living room with a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. The room was dark, the only light coming from the TV.
"Took you long enough..."
"Sorry," Ian said, grabbing his own beer and sitting down beside Mickey. "What are you watching?"
"Nothing." It was true; he'd just turned it on to have something to look at—he didn't even know what program was on.
They sat and watched for a few minutes.
"Thanks for showing Carl the knife. He loves that kinda stuff."
"Your sister seemed to like it too."
"Yeah. I think it's cuz Mandy taught her how to defend herself once..."
Mickey took another sip of his beer, not sure what was going to happen next. He didn't have to wait long. Ian put his bottle onto the coffee table and knelt between Mickey's legs.
"Gallagher..." Mickey started, but was interrupted.
"Don't worry, Mick. They're sleeping already." Ian reached for Mickey's zipper.
"Yeah, but what if Lip and Mandy come back?" he asked, holding onto the redhead's biceps and keeping him at a distance. It wasn't as easy as it sounded... Gallagher was strong.
Ian sat back on his heels and huffed out in frustration. Then he suddenly smiled.
"I have an idea." He stood and pulled Mickey to his feet in one motion, and led him to the crawlspace under the front staircase. It was closed off with a stupid little curtain. "Get in."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mickey asked.
"I said, get in," Ian repeated, pushing the older boy down.
"Okay, okay..." Mickey said. He knelt and made his way into the crawlspace. There were a few sleeping bags set up on the floor, at it was actually kind of comfortable. Mickey lied down and Ian continued where he'd left of a moment ago, unzipping Mickey's pants. He had to work hard to stifle his moans as the redhead took all of him into his mouth. He didn't want to risk waking up one of the kids.
Mickey rested one of his hands on Ian's head, occasionally pushing the younger boy down further. He closed his eyes and smiled, because he knew that from then on, pumpkins were always going to remind him of this moment. (Of course it helped that they were orange, just like Gallagher's hair.)
Coming over and making an effort with the kids was totally worth it. Maybe Mickey would come by the Gallagher house more often...