Here is the second prompt I've been given. I hope you'll like it as much as the first one. I'm thinking about adding some more chapters for this one, so please give me your opinion about it.
Don't forget to comment if you have any constructive criticisms to give me. Oh and once again, I still have no beta so all mistakes are obviously mine only.
I don't own Shameless, sadly.
Life is an Endless War
It wasn't like it was a surprise, after all.
Even if, at first, Mickey didn't give a fuck about what Gallagher was doing with his life, he'd learned to listen to the fucker when he was prating about anything and everything. Sometimes. (Even if most of the time he would just shut him up by bitting his neck hard so they would fuck instead of chit-chat like freaking girls). So, yeah, around two months after he'd got released from juvie – because of that jealous asshole who shot him like a fucking coward – he heard Gallagher talk about not wanting to enroll in the Marines anymore (when the fuck did he decide to become a soldier, Mickey had no idea) but try to get to West Point instead. Mickey said he didn't care, because, honestly, he didn't give a fuck if the redhead wanted to work in a circus or become a fucking unicorns hunter. He didn't tell Gallagher that besides getting killed beaten up by some faggot bashers here or being shot to death in a country nobody knew it even exist was the only future they would have anyway. Life wasn't some dumb fairytales written in those books his sister used to hide under her bed. For people like them, life was an endless nightmare, a lifetime battle where you had to use your fists to survive. None of them would become anything more than another deadbeat with no dream nor hope but a fucking lot of scars and broken bones. He didn't tell him that, even if he wasn't stupid, he wasn't smart enough to get to West Point. Not everyone could have Lip's easiness to do shit like homework without having to learn a freaking thing. And everybody knew that Lip wasn't going to go to college or anything. Even if you were a fucking smartass, you couldn't escape from their part of the city. Once a screw-up, always a screw-up, or some shit like that. Whatever.
So, yeah, Mickey might have heard about it. The whole 'West Point I wanna be an officer' bullshit. But actually, he totally forgot about it, because it wasn't like he was interested in Firecrotch's life and dumb dreams. When he got out from juvie the second time, he did realize Gallagher was hotter than before. They fucked like they never did. It was rougher and harder and way, way better. Mickey was kinda grateful about the workout Gallagher did while he was locked away, but once again he didn't even think for one minute about the kid's weird obsession with military academy. He helped him with his training but it was just some lame excuse to fire his gun (and maybe, just maybe, to get rid of that frustration and that weird feeling he was having since he heard about the grandpa Ian had been fucking). They didn't talk about it, not really. Even when what they were having, the fuck-buddies without the buddy part, kinda become something more. Mickey didn't want to think about it – about the way his chest and stomach seemed to do weird things when Gallagher was smiling, or about want becoming fucking need, or about the fact that he might have purposely asked Ian to stay for the entire night. He thought about the redhead's dick instead, about lust and fuck. And then, he didn't have anything to think about anyway, because one day everything seemed to be as perfect as their shitty lives could get, and the day after reality just crashed back into them, harsh and painful, making them realize that they were just playing with fire. They had gone too far and Mickey felt so fucking stupid for letting himself act like the carefree dumbass he wasn't. When the truth exploded in their face, as hard as his father's fists against his cheekbones, Mickey did the only thing he knew could save the both of them. He ignored Ian and jumped on the first guy that came across his way, letting his anger express itself with his fists and every part of his body that could hurt and punch, and went back to juvie without even looking back.
He stayed there for too long, so long he even stopped counting at some point. Mandy came to see him, at least once a month, talking about shit he didn't give a fuck about. She never talked about their father, even if Mickey was pretty sure his sister knew about what happened. She never talked about Ian. And Mickey didn't care. He didn't. He wasn't waiting for the guy to visit him. Not at all. And thank fucking God Gallagher never came to see him. But sometimes, when he was about to fall asleep, his cellmate snoring like a fucking pig, when he was so sick about being here, again, so sick he felt like puking, he let himself think about Ian's smile, or the way he could look so damn young and adorable sometimes when he was happy. He never tried to figure out what it meant, because he wasn't a pussy or some caring fag. He just let the memory fill up his brain before falling asleep, feeling lighter than before.
He got out eventually. It was a hot, humid, summer day and its brightness blinded him for a minute. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was alone. No one was here to greet him this time. No Mandy, no Gallagher, no one. And even if he was a heartless bastard, it kind of hurt him. But he just lighted up a cigarette and quickly left. He wasn't sure where to go, so he wandered around, smoking his whole packet before walking home. Nobody was here and Mickey had never felt so fucking relieved in his entire life. He was about to drink his second beer when Mandy came in, tears rolling down her cheeks leaving dark traces of makeup on her face. She sobbed even harder when she saw him and he didn't have time to think about what was happening before she was gripping his shirt, hiding her face between his neck and shoulder. He couldn't understand what she was mumbling against his skin but a weird sensation of panic suddenly deprived him of oxygen. The only two reasons he could think of to explain Mandy's behavior were that something bad had happened to Lip or Ian. Mickey didn't give a flying fuck about Lip, and he didn't care at all about what could possibly happen to the redhead, except he couldn't breathe all of a sudden and he knew his fingers were digging way too hard into Mandy's bare arms. Her voice finally got intelligible and a shaky breath got out of his mouth before he pushed his sister away.
Mickey almost ran to the Gallaghers' house, stumbling a few times before he finally got there. He didn't bother knocking and or say a word to Fiona and Lip. He just took the stairs two by two and storm into the room. Ian didn't even turn around, and it pissed Mickey more than everything else. The kid – and Jesus fucking fuck Gallagher didn't look like a freaking kid anymore – just kept putting clothes into his bag like Mickey didn't just barge into his bedroom like a fucking maniac. But Mickey knew him more that he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by the way Gallagher's shoulders had suddenly tensed that he knew it was him. Mickey wanted to scream and shout and fucking yell so much it hurt. He wanted to talk about things he wasn't supposed to say, things he wasn't supposed to even think about in the first place. But he didn't. He had never been good with words and it wasn't like it would matter anyway, right? But as he watched Ian emptying his closet, acting like Mickey wasn't burning out with anger just behind him, Mickey realized that he had been wrong all along. He had dumbly thought it would always be like this : he would go to prison and then get out and Ian would still be here, waiting for him. Mickey realized now that it was some fucked up fantasy. So before he did something stupid, like begging the guy to stay or even cry like a fucking pussy, he grabbed Ian's arm with as much force as he could before pushing him hard against the wall. He wrapped his fingers around Ian's neck, pushing hard against the skin until Gallagher finally punch him in the face. Mickey didn't let go of him. He just winced before grabbing the redhead's face and kissed him forcefully, biting the other boy's lip until he could taste his blood on his tongue. They fought like they did before their first fuck, except this time it was not only rough and painful but also passionate somehow. They fought for dominance even if they both knew there would be no winner. They fucked like they fought, facing one another this time. And every time Mickey bit hard into Ian's arm or shoulder, it was to prevent himself to say those things that were on the tip of his tongue. Those words he had always sworn to himself he would never, ever tell to anyone. And when Ian pounded harder than ever into him, Mickey desperately wanted to think it was for the same reason.
They didn't talk at all. They didn't share as much as one word, not even a goodbye or a fuck off. Nothing. They fucked and Mickey left and he didn't go with his sister when she left for the Gallaghers' to say goodbye. Ian left for West Point on a Saturday. A storm was about explode but it was still hot as fuck. Ian left without a goodbye, and Mickey tried to convince himself he didn't give a fuck. He almost believed it.