Hurdles and High Jumps
Summary: (Or, How Easily We Return To Old Habits). Mickey returns from juvie and goes to the Kash and Carry. Mickey&Ian
Author's Note: I'm pretty excited for Season 3, counting down the days until 13th of January. It just feels like this is going to be a big season for Mickey and Ian's relationship. (I am prepared to be disappointed!)
Author's Note (2): Also, not being American I'm sure lots of little British idioms will slip into this story and into Ian and Mickey's speech. I am eternally sorry about that. If you spot any PLEASE point them out to me so I can do the alterations. However, I do like to keep the British spellings throughout and the British idioms in the main narrative.
Ian stared at the boy ahead of him. He'd cleaned himself up whilst he'd been in juvie; the beard was gone, his clothes were neater. A bit of discipline seemed to have done him some good. Not that it would last long. Mickey's self-destructive 'fuck everything' attitude would return soon enough and something in Ian was glad about that. This clean, tidy Mickey wasn't the real Mickey, this wasn't his Mickey. The Mickey that acted first and thought second, the Mickey that would steal something regardless of price or how much money he had in his pocket. Mickey was a dickhead … and Ian couldn't help smile when he saw him.
'What the fuck are you smiling at?' Mickey demanded shutting the Kash and Carry door behind him. His opening statement made Ian grin for a second before checking his emotions and saying:
'Nothing,' as sternly as he could manage.
Mickey just frowned and glanced at the candy shelf. He picked one at random, opened it and began to chew. The wrapper went in the bin, when it could have gone on the floor and although the money Mickey dropped onto the counter didn't quite cover the entire cost of candy bar, it was still more than Ian was expecting.
'So,' Mickey said through a mouthful of food. 'Linda still in charge of this joint?'
'You haven't been gone that long, Mickey,' Ian pointed out. It was more of a mutter than anything but Mickey obviously heard it and shot Ian a look that was half a threat and half a smile, followed by:
'Frank still alive?'
'As far as I know,' Ian shrugged. He always tried to pretend he cared less about Frank than he actually did. It was hard to care about Frank, but Ian had a soft spot for a hard luck case. He liked the irredeemable bad boys. "Obviously," his brain unhelpfully provided as Mickey rounded the corner the "U-UP" part of his "Fuck U-Up" hand tattoo clearly visible as he unceremoniously shoved the remaining chunks of the candy bar into his mouth.
'I hoped he'd be lying in a ditch somewhere now,' Mickey added, candy shrapnel flying everywhere.
'He probably is,' Ian pointed out. 'But he'll still be breathing … just.'
'I was thinking more a shallow grave,' Mickey said and he looked like he was plotting, as he licked the chocolate from his grubby fingers and dried them on his back pocket. If he wasn't careful, Ian thought, he'd look like he'd shat himself.
'So that's your plan?' Ian demanded, ignoring that thought and concentrating on the words that were being said instead. 'To go straight back into prison, and this time for life.'
'What's it to you?'
'I just thought….' But Ian stopped himself. Last time he'd even slightly shown his feeling to Mickey, Mickey had kicked him right where he was most exposed and then left him for months on end.
'What!' Mickey snapped. Ian knew Mickey hated feeling stupid, and he knew that when Ian didn't finish his sentences Mickey took it like a punch in the face coupled with a joke about his slag of a sister.
'It doesn't matter.' Ian shook his head. 'So what are your plans now you're out?'
'Get a job….'
'That's why you're here,' Ian realised like a punch in the gut. Mickey hadn't come straight here because he missed Ian. Nothing like that, he'd come here because he was trying to avoid the wrath of his probation officer by getting his old job back.
'What did you think?' Mickey asked, his expression bordering on disgusted.
'I didn't think anything,' Ian sighed, picking the magazine he'd been reading back up off the counter. 'Linda's not here,' he added as casually as he could managed whilst flicking through the pages. 'She'll be back around one.'
Mickey's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall which had read "7.55" for about three years. Mickey knew it was broken because he used to point at it every time he was late for work and claim: "I'm five minutes early" but that didn't stop him saying:
'I'll wait,' despite him clearly still having no idea what time it was.
'You'll be waiting a while,' Ian said, checking his own watch. Mickey was here surprisingly early, more evidence of his recent juvie lifestyle.
'I've got fuck all else to do,' Mickey said, leaning against the wall near the door.
'Right,' Ian nodded. He wasn't able to find a decent enough article to distract him from Mickey so he decided to open the till and cash it up. He knew he'd only taken for one newspaper and one cigarette and some of the money for Mickey's candy bar this morning but he needed to at least pretend he was busy.
'Hey,' Mickey grabbed his attention after a second or two and Ian glanced up. He couldn't help himself, he always looked up when he heard Mickey's voice. 'That work?' he asked, nodding towards the security camera.
Ian just shook his head. Mickey knew that was broken too. The camera hadn't worked for ages, it had just stopped one day and Linda had never bothered to replace it - well, she'd employed Mickey but that was slightly different.
'Right then,' Mickey said matter-of-factly turning around and locking the door before flipping the sign to closed and marching towards to the fridge. 'Coming Gallagher?'
Ian wanted to say something about the fact Mickey had said he was "done" with him. He wanted to point out that those words had hurt and that he didn't want to get back into this weird thing they had together. Ian even thought he might want something more permanent, more real … more like a boyfriend. But if he said something like that, he'd be admitting that Mickey was more than just sex to him, and admitting that would open him up to a world of pain again. Better to fuck and forget than love and lose, he decided.
Ian went to check the back door was locked, he wasn't going to make that mistake again. Then he followed Mickey into the fridge, unable to help the excitement in his gut from morphing his face into a giddy, stupid grin. He hadn't exactly been a monk whilst Mickey was inside. In fact, there'd been quite a few guys over the last few months but somehow none had measured up to Mickey Milkovich, which was weird because Ian hadn't ever thought of Mickey setting the bar particularly high before. But now it felt like the others had been trying to hurdle the high jump bar and they weren't even getting close.