He Just Wanted To Be Loved
Summary: All Mickey had ever wanted from his parents was love, but now that they were both gone, he was never going to get it. Mickey's mother died after he got out of juvie for the first time and then his dad died only a few years after that. Both times he went to Ian for comfort.
Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.
Written for the Gallavich Week Day 4 prompt: Hurt/Comfort (taking care of each other).
It's my headcanon that the Milkoviches' mother died sometime between the pilot and episode 2x09, since those are the only times that she is mentioned in the show. In my mind, this occurs a little after episode 2x02.
Chapter 1: Mother
Ian didn't think too much of it when Mandy didn't come to class. She was prone to skipping school, so it wasn't really out of character for her. He just figured that he'd call her later to see if she wanted to hang out, and then he went about his day like normal.
After school was over, he went to the Kash and Grab for work. The first unusual thing he'd seen that day was Mickey. The thug never showed up to work early. In fact, he was rarely on time. But there he was, pacing and looking so distracted that Ian just knew from the first minute he laid eyes on him that something was wrong.
"Hey…" Ian greeted him carefully. "What are you doing here so early?"
"Can't stay," Mickey muttered quickly. "Wanna meet tonight. Usual place." Ian was caught off guard by Mickey's grave expression. The older boy looked unshaven and paler than usual. Something was definitely up.
"Sure…" he agreed slowly. "Hey, are you okay?"
Mickey ignored him. "I'll probably show up late," he said, avoiding eye contact.
Those were his last words before pushing out of the store. He didn't even bother to say how late he would be, but Ian didn't mind that much. He just hoped that Mickey wasn't in serious trouble.
When Ian got back home, Fiona handed him the telephone.
"It's been ringing off the hook all afternoon," she explained. "It's Mandy Milkovich. She sounds upset."
Ian took the phone and sighed. It sucked being too poor to afford a cell phone. He forgot to explain to Mandy that his work schedule had changed again, and she was probably wondering where he was. "Thanks, Fi," he said.
He quickly dialed the Milkovich number and sat down at the kitchen counter while it rang. He barely had to wait before someone picked up the line.
"Hello?" Mandy asked quietly.
"Hey Mandy. What's up?" Ian replied. "Fiona said you've been calling."
"Oh, Ian…" Mandy's voice quivered like she was trying to hold back tears. She sounded distant, just like Mickey had been.
"Are you okay?" Ian asked, instantly in protective mode. "Did your dad have one too many again?"
"No, not that," Mandy mumbled. "It's my mom."
Ian frowned. He didn't know much about the Milkovich mother. In fact, he'd only seen her once. She'd been passed out on the floor of the Alibi, likely on some form of drugs. If life had been more kind to her, she would have been a very pretty woman. Aside from the smudged make-up and dark circles around her eyes, she looked strikingly similar to her daughter. Unfortunately, she was married to Terry Milkovich, and that was proof enough that her life was hell.
"What happened?" he asked. By the sound of Mandy's voice, he knew that it was serious.
Mandy took a deep breath, almost unable to get the words out. "She had an overdose this morning." Her voice cracked, shaking with sadness, anger and disbelief. "Oh god, Ian… she's dead."
Ian had been sitting in the baseball dugout for almost an hour before Mickey showed up. Mickey looked calmer than before, and to anyone else he may have even seemed to be acting normal again, but Ian could tell just how much of a wreck he really was.
"Hey," the redhead said softly, handing Mickey a cigarette.
Mickey nodded in acknowledgment and stuck the cigarette in his mouth wordlessly. Ian pulled out a lighter and lit it for him.
"Nice stubble," Ian commented, trying to relieve the tension in the air.
Mickey glanced at him and rubbed at his chin self-consciously. "Been too distracted to shave," he explained.
"Well, I like it," Ian said with a smile, trying his best to get Mickey to relax. "Bet you'd look great with a beard."
One side of Mickey's mouth twitched upwards, but he still didn't smile. "Shut up," he said without any real anger.
Ian just laughed and did as he was told.
The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, sharing a beer that Ian had brought with him from home. The younger boy figured that Mickey wouldn't want to talk about what happened, so he stayed quiet.
He remembered when he'd had his own problems with his mother and came running to Mickey for comfort. He hadn't felt like speaking that day either; all he'd wanted was to lose himself in Mickey's body. Of all the places Mickey could have gone on the night after his mother died, he chose to spend it with Ian. Their situations were different, but on some level, Ian understood how Mickey felt.
Mickey burped loudly and tossed the beer can aside. "You gonna sit there all night, firecrotch?"
Ian didn't have to be told twice. He pounced on the smaller boy, touching every inch of his body that he could. He wanted so badly to kiss Mickey and help him feel better, but that was against Mickey's rules. Instead, he had to settle for the next best thing.
He wrapped his arms around Mickey, sucking on his neck hard. He kissed and licked and bit at the skin, rocking against him and rubbing their cocks together through their jeans. Usually, Mickey yelled at him if he thought that he might mark him up with hickies, but on that day he was unusually compliant. He allowed Ian to do whatever he wanted to him, leaning into his touch and moaning lowly.
Ian attacked him mercilessly, making his breath catch in his throat. The taller boy's hands moved lower and lower, sliding under the waistband of Mickey's pants. Finally, Mickey pulled away.
"Not tonight," he said quickly.
Ian blinked dumbly at him. If they weren't going to fuck, he wasn't sure what Mickey wanted from him. That's all they ever seemed to do. That was always their excuse to spend time with each other.
Mickey didn't give him very much time to wonder about it. Without waiting another second, he dropped to his knees in front of Ian and started undoing his pants.
Ian realized what was happening, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Shut up," Mickey warned. "Just let me do this." He pulled out Ian's dick and wasted no time before engulfing it completely.
Ian leaned back and closed his eyes, grunting in approval. At first, it was obvious that Mickey had never given anyone a blowjob in his life, but luckily he was a fast learner. After a few minutes of awkward experimentation, Mickey developed a rhythm that had Ian going crazy.
The brunette bobbed his head up and down, slurping and suctioning his mouth around the length. He didn't bother to pace himself, and he didn't let Ian slowly build up his orgasm. Instead, he swallowed as much of Ian's girth as he possibly could and used his hands to massage Ian's balls, desperately seeking out the boy's groans of ecstasy.
Ian wasn't used to so much stimulation at once, and Mickey had him cumming down his throat within minutes. It was sloppy and quick, but it didn't matter. It wasn't really about Ian's pleasure anyway.
Mickey pulled his mouth away with a pop, saliva still connecting his mouth to Ian's softened dick. He stood up again, looking satisfied. His face was flushed and his lips were swollen.
It was almost enough to get Ian hard again.
"I can, uh… do you next if you want," Ian said awkwardly. "Though if you're really not in the mood, I guess it's fine. I mean, it's understandable."
Mickey frowned at him suspiciously. "The fuck are you getting at?"
Ian flinched. He should have known that he would end up giving himself away sooner or later. "Mandy told me what happened," he finally admitted quietly.
Mickey sighed. "Of course she did." He pulled away from Ian and sat back down on the cement. If he had been in the mood, he certainly wasn't now.
"I'm not gonna make you talk about it," Ian promised. "Just… I'm here if you need me."
Mickey nodded and looked anywhere but at Ian. Part of him wanted to talk about it. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs and destroy everything in his path for no goddamn reason. He wanted to cry and hug Ian as tight as possible and never let go.
He wanted to tell Ian that his mother was a useless fucking drug addict and that he was glad she was dead. He wanted to say that she was never anything but a shitty fucking parent anyway, and that she deserved her fate for doing nothing while his dad beat the living shit out of him and his siblings.
But most of all, he wanted to scream that his mother was the only person in the whole world who had ever said they loved him, and there was something so empty about him now that she was gone, because he loved her too.
Mickey didn't say or do any of those things. He couldn't. Instead, he just stared at the stars and tried not to cry.
Ian reached over and grabbed Mickey's hand, and for the first time, the other boy didn't pull away.
