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Die Alone: A Shameless Fanfiction
Ian and Mickey
Chapter Three
It had been a week since Gallagher left. Mickey was standing in his kitchen, which smelled vaguely of tequila and meth, eyes aimed towards the suspicious brown stain on the ceiling when Svetlana walked in. She was starting to show, and it didn't help that she was in a crop top and bejeweled black booty shorts. Her makeup was smeared all over her face, causing her to look slightly disfigured. Her hair was still ratted from whenever the last time she took a bath was and she was holding a red bong.
"What the fuck are you doin'?" Mickey shouted, snatching the bong from her insipid and frail hand. She just looked at him, her large black pupils reflecting his rage back at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and she rocked slightly from side to side. Her English wasn't wonderful, but she knew enough to understand and say most uncomplicated sentences. She almost never spoke to Mickey.
"You're fuckin' pregnant. You can't just fuckin' smoke all you want." Mickey said, trying to calm the bite in the back of his throat that was coming through. Mandy had told him that he was too mean to Svetlana, that his situation wasn't her fault, she told Mickey if he wanted to be a better person he should just try being nicer to his family. Mickey cringed internally at the use of that word: family. Mickey didn't have a family, didn't deserve one. His drug addict of a mom had OD'd when he was ten, everyone knew what a shitty dad Terry was, his brothers only stayed at their house from time to time, (and that was just for the free food and booze.) Mandy was the closest thing he had to a family member, and she didn't seem all that fond of him.
But this whore in front of him certainly wasn't his family, Mickey thought. He felt kinda bad for her, secretly. She was forced into this marriage just as much as he was, and her pregnancy certainly hadn't been planned. She was from a foreign country and was basically a full on hooker. She mostly did handies and blowjobs, but her ties with Terry's gang led Mickey to believe that she wasn't a stranger to full-on fucking. But regardless of all this, Mickey was no fuckin saint and he didn't have to put up with her shit.
"Listen bitch," he said, grabbing her arms. "You aren't gonna fuck up my kid. I didn't want it, but that doesn't mean it deserves what you're doin' to it. If I catch you smokin' or boozin' you're gonna wish you hadn't married me." And with that, Mickey turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, hearing the front door slam shut on his broken home.
Ian was staying at a cheap motel just outside of Southside. He hadn't had the heart or the balls to go home, didn't wanna face Lip's heartbreak over Karen, or Fiona's rage. Ian figured it was time for him to move out anyways; he just couldn't take the noise and clutter anymore. He knew it cost them all money when he was home; water, electric and food costs would be lower with one less person in the house. His measly income from the Kash N' Grab wasn't gonna cut it. Ian had enough money saved up to stay at his motel and eat at fast food places for about a week.
With a sigh, Ian decided it would be best for him to see if Linda would re-hire him after he bailed so fast. He could just tell her the truth: that he almost enlisted and decided not to, but he was sure she would see through it. Linda was too smart and too present in his work schedule to not notice how he and Mickey looked at each other. "Whatever." Ian thought, stubbing out his cigarette and pulling on a t-shirt.
On his long walk to the Kash N' Grab, Ian thought about him. Ian hadn't been able to get him off of his mind; Mickey was there every time he closed his eyes for bed and every time he opened them in the morning. Ian hadn't gone this long without sex in a long time, which seemed pretty pathetic, when he thought about it. A week wasn't a very long period of time at all, but Ian was used to getting laid or blown at least once a day. When Ian thought about it, he realized he hadn't really gone without for about two years. He had started with Kash when he was fifteen, met Mickey and they became fuckbuddies, and when the whole "snickers bar incident" happened, Ian did without for the period Mickey was in juvie. But then he had met Lloyd, so he was doing it with him and Mickey for a period of time. And then when he and Mickey got hot and heavy, there was only Mickey. Looking back on it, Ian realized he was a little bit of a man-whore.
He chuckled at his sexual escapades as he continued strolling through the Southside. You could always tell someone was from the South by their nonchalance when they were in it. Ian didn't even blink when he saw two homeless guys fighting over a porn magazine on the side of the road, or when he saw a woman get mugged at the ATM in front of him. These weren't alarming things to him; they were normal, almost homey things. The smell of dumpster juice and old cigarettes that seemed to penetrate the entire area like a thick smog brought back childhood memories for Ian.
Ian was still thinking about his sex life when he stopped at a bench to light up. Sucking the nicotine down into his young lungs, he though about the taste of Mickey. The second time they had kissed, Mickey tasted like Marlboros and cherry vodka. Even though they had only French-kissed once, Ian could remember every detail about that smooch.
Ian barged through the door, tears shining faintly in his eyes. Mickey stared at him, his hand; holding a lit cigarette, fell down to his side. Mickey stood in a cheap black rental tux, smirking slightly and radiating nervousness at Ian. Ian remembered absentmindedly thinking he had been pacing. The basement smelled like mothballs and old cheese, the fluorescent lighting not helping to make the dismal place look better.
"You call me a punk for wanting a boyfriend or whatever, but you're gonna marry someone who screws guys FOR A LIVING?" Ian shouted, hurling all his anger and rage at Mickey with those words.
"Who gives a shit, it's a fuckin' piece of paper." Mickey snarled back, hurt by Ian's hostility.
"Not to me." Ian replied softly, feeling his heart constrict at the thought of Mickey standing before an altar.
Ian turned, finally giving up on the fucked up man he loved so dearly. "I don't need this shit." He thought as he started to walk out.
"Hey, c'mon!" He heard Mickey say behind him, panic rising.
"Just 'cause I'm getting' hitched doesn't mean we can't still bang, okay?" Mickey said, and if Ian didn't know it, it sounded like there was desperation in his voice. Ian couldn't take this any more, couldn't take what this sad man behind him was doing to him. His anger all came hack, and as he turned to face his ex-lover, he began to think he hated him.
"If you'd give half a shit about me." He spat, lumbering towards Mickey, towering over him. Mickey saw the flash of rage in his eyes and put his hand on his chest, defensively saying "Hey, hey hey!" Trying to get Ian to back off.
"Half." Ian said softly, tears coming back. "Don't do this."
Mickey just searched his face for a minute, staring at him urgently. Suddenly, he pulled Ian into him and put his hand on the back of his neck as he captured his lips. His tongue slammed into Ian's and Ian felt his cock harden. Twisting their mouths together in a tangled massage, the two hurled themselves into the next room. Ian could taste blood on his lips, but couldn't tell if it was Mickey's or his own. They were always like this; getting their pleasure from their pain. Ian could feel the heat from his groin rising, flowing up to somewhere in the back of his throat. This kiss wouldn't be enough, not enough for him to just walk away. He felt Mickey's hard-on through the front of his slacks and pressed against it, getting a slight moan out of Mickey. Grinding their hips together expertly, Mickey started taking off his jacket, his mouth never leaving Ian's.
Ian threw his cigarette onto the ground, stubbing it out with the tip of his converse. He glanced down and blushed when he saw his own hard-on, desperately trying to get it to go back down. Ian hadn't been able to control his lust, and now it was getting worse. Just thinking about a kiss he had shared was getting him horny. Ian crossed the street to his old workplace, smiling fondly at the memories. He noticed the "back in five minutes" sign was up, so he walked around back. Still thinking about those passionate moments they had shared in the basement of the reception hall, Ian turned right to walk down the hallway.
"Linda, it's Ian," he shouted, walking into the store. His mouth dropped when he saw Lloyd bent over the counter with Mickey inside of him.
