Mickey ran a hand down his face, stressed out already. He'd really fucked up. He should have taken Ian to whatever shitty hospital would have him. But it was so much like that time Mickey had picked him up out of the snow and taken him home…and he was really sick.
It hadn't helped that that Branford person had acted like a complete asshole. Mickey was an unrepentant asshole himself, and even he wouldn't have treated one of his rub and tug girls the way that guy had Ian. He'd kind of wanted to help Ian just to piss the guy off.
Ian looked way too thin. He wouldn't be able to do an army-style obstacle course nowadays, though he had a gym-fit body, probably because his clients liked his muscles. It made Mickey's skin crawl to think of Ian as an escort. It wasn't like he had anything against people selling their asses, but Ian was so wrong for that profession. Whores had to be tough, and even if they were tough they sometimes got chewed up by the business like Svetlana had. Ian had always gone to those rich guys for like, love and affection, even if he hadn't realized it. Being a whore would tear Ian's heart out in the end, if he didn't get some kind of a disease that would kill him first.
But it wasn't Mickey's job to worry about Ian anymore, and it hadn't been for a long time. In fact, last he'd checked, Mickey was still pissed off at Ian and didn't want anything to do with the walking train-wreck, especially since Mickey had gotten his life together and was now a single-father.
And yet, he'd just spent the last half-hour lying to HR about his upcoming wedding and getting Ian on his benefit plan, and now he had to contact his partner and figure out how to get her to stay quiet about what had happened.
She, of course, knew he wasn't engaged, and she knew he'd had to call an escort service to see if the man in charge would pay Ian's medical bills. She'd watched with wide-eyes as he'd lied his way through the radio call, and she hadn't said a word to him on the way back to the hospital.
Renee had probably been too pissed off to comment. She wasn't personally liable for anything he'd done, but she knew what he was doing and hadn't said anything, which was probably grounds for dismissal. The pretty, petite, and deceptively strong Latino girl had had as rough an upbringing as Mickey had. They'd bonded over getting out of the Southside and both being so small other drivers didn't want to work with them because they thought they'd be weak, but if he cost her her job, he knew she'd never forgive him despite their friendship.
He sent her a quick text. I owe you one. Several. This'll work out, I promise.
Her reply, yeah, how could this possibly go wrong for you, was actually kind of reassuring, because it showed that at least she sort of had a sense of humor about what he'd done.
He couldn't explain by text that, even now, Ian was the only person outside of his family who had ever really loved him. Without Ian, Mickey would have never even thought of getting his GED or getting out of the Southside. He'd never have thought any part of him was worth saving. Even though ultimately Ian had broken his heart, first of all he'd fallen for Mickey, hard. And the fact that someone like Ian could love him, even for a little while, had given Mickey the confidence to at least try.
To his surprise, he'd found out he was almost as smart as he'd always pretended he was. He wasn't a genius like Lip, but he'd managed to get the GED after a few tries and had soared through the short vocational course and on-the-job training required to be a paramedic. His brothers had looked at him with the same amused confusion they'd shown him when they'd realized he was gay, like they couldn't believe this weird alien being had somehow ended up in their family, and had remarked that if they ever got shot they'd know who to call.
He'd gotten a job as a paramedic almost right away despite his tough accent and borderline offensive tattoos, and he'd settled into his life. He'd gotten a nice apartment, he'd taken over caring for Yev, which hadn't annoyed him nearly as much as he'd let on, and he'd wondered why his life still felt so empty.
He tried to remind himself that Ian wasn't the same kid he'd fallen in love with, and if he was waiting for him to fill in the empty spaces in his life, he'd be waiting for a long time. Ian had agreed to take his help, for some reason (where was this Ian three years ago?), but that didn't mean Ian still loved him. Or even still liked him. And even if he did, they'd both been through so much in the past three years that they probably weren't even remotely the same people.
Ian had started to hate him for going soft even before they'd broken up. What would he think of him now? He had more Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs than porn DVDs, and he hadn't owned a gun in years. He was hardly that thug Ian had been hot for.
And Ian looked like he'd had a long, hard three years. That would have to change a person, wouldn't it?
Anyway, it wasn't even a question. Ian didn't want him, and he'd had enough of Ian breaking his heart.
It was amazing, though, to think about how they'd been when they were together. Epic. They'd been something else. All the guys Mickey had dated or fucked since Ian had seemed pale by comparison, and not because of Ian's model looks or the fire-crotch or the crazy behavior. When you had had a love like theirs, it was hard to settle for something less.
Which was irrelevant. He was just going to help Ian get on his feet and then wash his hands of this entire situation, hopefully while remaining employed by the hospital and not be prosecuted for fraud, if at all possible.
He went back to Ian's room and found Shelley changing his IV bag.
"So, can I take this dumb fuck home with me today?" he asked her.
She nodded her head, used to his bluntness. "I don't know why you'd want to, but we'll be ready to release him by this afternoon. Dr. Hampton accepted him as a patient. He left an appointment card and some literature about the program and I'm going to have some antibiotics and things to give you."
She walked out of the room and Ian shook his head. "She hates me."
"Don't worry about it. She's just a little protective of me."
"No shit," Ian said. He smiled and looked down at his hands. "It's nice, though. That you have so many friends. You deserve it."
Mickey shrugged, not sure what to say. "You need to pick anything up from your place?"
"I'd rather not right now. I have some money. I can pick some clothes up from the Salvation Army when I get better," Ian said.
"Whatever. I'm not working for a few days. I'll pick you up a toothbrush and some razors while we wait for the IV to drip through. You need anything else?"
For a minute he was sure Ian was going to say 'condoms and lube', he could just tell by the look on the kid's face, but at the last minute he shook his head, his look almost shy. "If it's okay for me to use your soap and shampoo, I'm good."
"We've had our tongues in each other's asses, Ian. I think we can share some fucking soap," Mickey said.
Ian looked relieved. "Thank you for saying something vulgar, Mick. I was starting to think you'd been body-snatched or something."
"I'll be back, yeah?" he said. Ian nodded, and Mickey retreated, afraid of the warm feeling that spread through his chest when Ian looked at him. No fucking way was he going there again.
At the drugstore Mickey got a bunch of things Ian hadn't asked for. So he remembered what kind of hair gel Ian used to use. So fucking sue him. He was walking towards the cash register when he abruptly turned back and got the condoms and lube.
Not for him and Ian.
Just for him and…someone. Some time. He was already here, and his condoms were probably expired.
Mickey threw the bag in back seat of the car, got in, and smacked the steering wheel. "Shit, fucking fuck. I hate my life," he muttered.
He got out his phone and called Fiona. "What happened with Ian?" she asked.
"Now you want to know, huh?"
"Come on, Mickey. My brother may be a perpetual fuck-up but I love him," she said.
"Maybe it doesn't have to be that way. You know I'm a paramedic now—"
"—You what?"
"I'm a paramedic. And I have some contacts at the hospital. I got Ian into a program that could be really good for him. I don't know. When I tried to help him before I didn't know shit about anything."
"You're a fucking paramedic?"
"Stay with me, here, Fiona. We're talking about Ian."
"I can't get my hopes up right now, Mick. I mean, I'd love to see him. We all would. But it hurts so much when he just makes the same mistakes over and over. He says it's his life and he doesn't want to be controlled, but this has been my whole life. It was mom first, now Ian. Just watching this person you love so much spiral out of control and hurt themselves and make everyone's life around them into chaos, too. It's awful. Well, you know what it's like."
"You ever wonder about yourself?" Mickey asked.
She was silent for so long that he wondered if she'd dropped the phone, but finally her heard a sigh. "Sometimes," she said. "If I land in prison again you tell them I'm not guilty by reason of insanity, alright? I've never admitted that to anyone. Jesus, Mickey. How are you the one guy other than Lip in the neighborhood to make something of yourself? A paramedic? I bet you look adorable in your uniform."
"Fuck you," Mickey said.
Fiona laughed softly. "What did you do?"
Mickey explained how he was kind of defrauding the hospital, and she told him she'd help in whatever way she could, and that he shouldn't get romantically involved with Ian right now. That he'd be crazy to. That was why he'd called, to hear her say the words, and he felt strengthened by them. He took the condoms and lube out of the bag and hid them in his glove compartment.
He went to get Ian. Shelley was helping Ian get dressed. That must have been awkward, considering the way they were looking at each other. "You ready to start working out again, lazy-ass?" he asked.
"Why?" Ian asked.
"You're moving in with me. There's a gym in my building. Not a great gym, but you know, it's good enough," Mickey said.
"All I need is pavement and a pull-up bar," Ian said.
"Such a tough guy," Mickey said, his voice half-admiring, as it always was. He was mindful of Shelley packing up the IV equipment, and he came close, putting a hand on Ian's shoulder. "You happy to be moving in?"
"I couldn't be happier," Ian said. "One of these days you're going to be proud of me, Mick."
"You kidding? You agreed to see Dr. Hampton. I've never been more proud of you than right now. We've known each other our whole lives, Ian. This, what you're doing right now, this could be the best thing you've ever done. If you let it be," he said.
"It wouldn't take much for it to be the best. I've never done much to be proud of," Ian muttered.
He would have gone on, but Mickey silenced him with a kiss. And yeah, he was maybe using Shelley's presence as an excuse to kiss Ian (it wasn't completely necessary to kiss him to maintain the charade), but whatever. He brushed back Ian's hair, hoping this mood of Ian's lasted long enough for Dr. Hampton to be able to help.
"Come with me, Mickey. I'll get you the scripts and the release papers," Shelley said.
Mickey followed her out of the room.
