Mickey ignores all ten of Ian's text messages, and Ian can't figure out why. Maybe he wants to talk about the performance in person? But why then doesn't he just ask to meet Ian after school? It was Mickey's idea not to talk in public in the first place, and now he wants to meet in the busiest place in the whole school?
It makes no sense to Ian, but Mickey asked, and so Ian waits. He tugs impatiently at his satchel strap, chewing at his bottom lip. He's never been very good at waiting.
When Ian sees Mickey coming his way he smiles wide, tries to tamper down on his eagerness, it's just-
Mickey and...Karofsky? And Azimio and Puck?
Ian just looks at Mickey, doesn't say anything, gaze questioning.
Before he even realizes what they're holding, he's hit with four consecutive slushies. He gasps, it's so cold. So cold. Mickey...
"Do not. Fuck with me," comes Mickey's voice in a dangerous hiss, followed by a hard shoulder bump that sends him stumbling, slipping in the mess. He falls on his butt in the middle of the lobby, covered in slushie. He hears laughter and catcalls and pseudo commiserative groans and wipes desperately at his eyes. Part of him is waiting for Rachel to come help him with her towel, but no one's there. No one who has his back, anyway.
Shivering, shaking from more than just cold, Ian stands up. His eyes already sting, but he forces them open and looks around, having never felt so embarrassed. He's soaked, head to toe. He has a change of clothes in his locker, but he can't. He feels betrayed. It's not like Mickey ever promised to be his friend, but Ian did make him smile a few times, and. It's just. He doesn't know. It just hurts.
Humiliated, he leaves school. It's the first time he's ever skipped in his life.
ooo
His mom isn't home, thank god. Ian takes a long, hot shower and curls up in bed. A nagging part of him wonders if he should go back. He can at least make his last four classes of the day, but Mickey is in two of them, and...
He can't.
Ian looks at his bedside table where he has picture frame after picture frame filled with photos of the friends he grew up with and the friends he met at Dalton. Wes, David, Jeff and Nick, his best friends from the Warblers. He picks up his favorite, a photo from last year's Regionals. They'd lost, but god, it had been fun. He misses them with an almost desperate ache. No one at Dalton would have done this to him, and not just because of the no harassment policy.
With a sigh, Ian puts the photo down and checks his cell phone. He sees six new messages and, a little surprised, starts going through them.
Rachel: I heard about what happened! I can't believe it! Where are you now, are you okay?
Tina: Ian I'm so sorry.
Artie: triple slushies are the worst yo
Rachel: Did you leave school?
Mercedes: oh boo. hate to say I told u so. once a jerk, always a jerk. :(
Rachel: Call me later.
Ian texts them all back telling them he's fine, he'll be back tomorrow, he just couldn't rock a soaking wet multi-color stained look.
In the middle of answering Rachel he gets another text from...Unknown Number?
Text: shit son what did u do Mickey is PISSED at u
Ian texts bacMickey: who is this?
Text: Santana obvs
Moving beyond the startling fact that Santana Lopez has his phone number (the entire history of their relationship has been Santana either ridiculing him or trying to hit on him during glee club, which in and of itself is mildly terrifying), he can't believe what she's saying. What did he do to Mickey?Him? He hasn't done anything! Never once has he been cruel to Mickey!
He texts her bacMickey: I haven't done a thing. I'M not the school bully
S: watch ur back Gallagher thats all i'm saying
Ian: i don't know where it came from, but thank you for your concern
S: any time stud. so what r u wearing? ;)
Ian rolls his eyes.
Ian: bye santana
S: ur no fun
Ian sighs and tosses his phone on the mattress, burying his face in his pillow. Maybe a nap will help him feel better. Only, every time he tries to clear his mind it goes back to "what did you do?" and "watch your back" and the cold look on Mickey's face before he slushied him. He's done nothing, why should he have to watch his back?
No, he's not going to watch his back. He's not going to put up with this.
If Mickey Milkovich wants a fight, Ian will give it to him.
ooo
Ian makes sure to get to school late. He takes a different route than usual to get to homeroom just in case, and makes sure he's late for that, too. The door is open and he walks right in, not one shred of nervousness in him. He looks for Mickey, sees him right off, but first throws his group of friends a smile and a thumbs up. They look at him with wide eyes.
It isn't so much him, he's sure, but what he has.
Ian walks right up to Mickey's desk. Mickey is working on something and looks up as Ian's shadow falls over him. Before Mickey can say a word, Ian dumps an orange slushie over his head. It's the worst color and flavor they come in, and it's all for Mickey. Mickey gasps and sputters.
"It's on," Ian says, backing away with a smug smile. The class explodes into talking, laughter, disbelief. A few people even applaud.
"Ian Gallagher!" Mr. Abela starts, but Ian cuts him off.
"Principal's office?"
"Now!"
Ian gives Mickey a little wave goodbye, another smile for his friends, who look both parts worried and thrilled, before finally leaving the room. Sure, he's probably going to get into trouble, and yeah, he just gave the bullies a legit reason to mess with him, but he stood up for himself and Mickey finallygot a taste of his own medicine.
Now if he can just ignore the small voice of guilt in the back of his mind.
ooo
There's a reason slushies are given in the hallways. When your only witnesses are people who are too afraid of you to rat you out, and generally the people you slushie you are too afraid to rat on you, you get off scot-free. When you slushie someone in the middle of a classroom, especially with a teacher present, well, you're screwed.
Ian doesn't care. He bets Mickey and his 'friends' never had the balls, never had the courage, to play bully in a classroom like that.
Figgins says he's had complaints about Mickey before, and since Ian has otherwise been a model student, he gets detention for a week instead of suspension.
Ian secretly wishes it had been suspension. If his mother thinks he isn't getting along well at McKinley, maybe he'd be able to talk her into going back to Dalton. Is detention enough, though? He hopes it is. If not, maybe he'll just have to join Mickey and the others in their delinquency. Not bullying anyone, but maybe just tipping over trash cans and not handing in his homework on time or something.
Ian feels wild and untethered, he feels like he can do anything.
ooo
Ian has gym with Mickey, Karofsky and Azimio, so it's pretty much the worst combo ever. When Mickey walks into the gymnasium, Ian sees that he's clean and in different clothes. He's shocked Mickey didn't skip. He wonders if Mickey had to call his dad to bring him clothes, wonders what he told him.
He deserved it, Ian reminds himself.
Ian's one saving grace is that they aren't doing team sports today, they're doing basic exercise, so at least there's no possibility of being paired up with Mickey or the others.
He can't, however, avoid them in the locker room.
Freshly showered, changed, and ready to go, Ian shuts his locker, turns, and gets slammed into it. Hard. Karofsky has him pinned to the locker wall with Azimio hovering next to him. He can feel one of the locks digging into his back and winces, squirming.
"Not so fast," Karofsky says. "We need to have a word."
"Just one?" Ian replies, his voice coming out slightly wheezy from the force of the shove.
"New kid thinks he's funny!" Azimio says.
"He won't think it's so funny when he has my fist down his throat!" Karofsky snaps.
Ian squirms, tries to get away. He'd just rather not get punched in the face is all. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he says, struggling against Karofky's hold. It only tightens.
"Some privacy," Karofsky barks, slamming him into the locker again for emphasis. He glares around the room and its remaining occupants scatter.
"Better. Now, I'm gonna remind you of your place at this school." Karofsky pulls his arm back, gearing up to punch, when there's a sharp, "David!"
Karofsky jumps a little and turns. "Oh, Milkovich. Perfect timing-"
Mickey's glaring at Karofsky. "What is this? You don't think I can fight my own battles?" he asks, walking into the room.
Karofsky drops his hands, looking petulant. "We're just trying to teach the dork a lesson."
"No, you just like to hit things," Mickey says, contemptuous. His gaze lands on Ian, who juts his chin out, unafraid.
"I'm not going to fight you," Ian says, slowly edging his way away from Karofsky.
Mickey raises an eyebrow. "And what, then, will you do?"
Ian shrugs. "Nothing." Karofsky and Azimio laugh, so Ian continues, looking only at Mickey. "Because I like you."
Mickey's expression is unreadable, but he looks away. Karofsky and Azimio are really laughing now.
"Oh man, listen to this fag!" Azimio says.
"Dude, Mickey, he's got a crush on you!" Karofsky laughs.
"I knew he was a homo!" Azimio says.
Ian blushes in embarrassment, not for himself, but for Mickey. Mickey looks sick, trying to hide it behind an expression of anger, but Ian knows better.
"Thank you for the compliment," Ian says calmly, looking to Karofsky and Azimio. They stop laughing, clearly confused.
Azimio snorts. "Excuse me?"
"It's not a bad thing to be gay. I don't care if you say I am." Ian looks back to Mickey until their eyes meet, holding his gaze for just a moment.
Ian starts to back out of the locker room, taking his time, hands in his pockets like he hasn't a care in the world. Like if he walks normally enough he won't spook any of the three boys into stopping him. "I know why you're threatened by me," he says to Karofsky and Azimio. "I understand your anger."
"You hate me because I'm smart. Because I'm not a loser like the both of you," Ian continues, pausing in the doorway. They're just staring at him. "When I graduate, I'll go to New York, to Tisch or somewhere amazing, while you'll be here, serving the good folks of Lima their McDonalds." Karofsky looks like he's about to kill him, but Ian just smiles and strolls out the door.
As soon as he turns the corner he runs. He knows he pushed his luck back there, big time, and he won't be surprised if he pays for it later. For now, though, the looks on their faces is worth it.
ooo
Ian doesn't see Mickey at lunch, and surprisingly enough he's left alone. He has two afternoon classes with Mickey, and is ignored in both of them. Azimio tries to kick his chair out from under him in French, but Mickey cuts him a glance and Azimio rolls his eyes and leaves Ian alone. Mickey must have said something to them, and Ian can't help but wonder what. And why.
Wednesday is more or less the same, until after glee club.
Ian and Rachel are the last to leave, as Ian had promised to walk her out and she'd wanted to discuss her next solo with Mr. Schue after the meeting was over. She's on his arm, extrapolating the praises of Sondheim, when Ian looks to his car and sees Mickey leaning against it. Ian nearly stumbles off the curb. Mickey is waiting for him.
Mickey sees him and takes his hands from his pockets, crosses his arms but doesn't otherwise move.
Ian stops in his tracks. It takes Rachel a moment to realize, and she stops talking mid-sentence. She looks from Mickey to Ian, and jumps when someone beeps a horn.
"It's my dad," she says, looking at Ian with concern. "Do you want to come with me? Or I could stay?"
Ian glances around, but he doesn't see anyone else. He doubts that if Mickey has Karofsky or Azimio or Puck or whoever with him they'd bother to hide behind the few remaining scattered cars in the parking lot to ambush him or something.
"No," he says, clearing his throat a little. "Go on, he's alone and he won't do anything to me."
"How can you be sure?" Rachel asks, fingers tightening their grip on his arm.
"I just am," he says, giving her a reassuring smile. "Seriously, it's okay. I promise."
Rachel gazes at him, eyebrows drawn up in worry. "If you say so. Call me if anything happens, okay?"
"I will." He gives her hand a squeeze.
She smiles uncertainly and leans up, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. As she lowers from her tip-toes she looks over at Mickey, expression cold. One last smile to Ian and she runs off to her dad's car.
Ian feels kind of bashful now and slowly crosses the distance to his car, and Mickey.
"Don't you two make a cute couple," Mickey greets him, his comment anything but friendly.
Ian ignores it. "Are you here to get back at me?" he asks, watching Mickey's face.
Mickey rolls his eyes, glances upward before settling his gaze on Ian. "I came to talk."
Ian waits. "Well?"
"I'm waiting for Berry to leave," he says, nodding his head toward her car.
Ian looks over. Rachel's sitting in the passenger seat of her dad's car, glaring at Mickey. He's touched by her concern, and smiles a little, waving her off. He can see her sigh and say something to her dad. The car slowly reverses; she gives one last wave as they leave the parking lot.
Ian looks back to Mickey when there's no sign of the car.
"You could have just called," he points out, coming to stand next to Mickey.
Mickey finally seems to relax some. He shrugs a shoulder. "I don't like talking on the phone much." He looks over at Ian, smiling faintly. "My dad thinks I'm being bullied now. Ironic, isn't it?"
Ian knocks his shoulder into Mickey's.
"Hey, abuse," Mickey says, smoothing a hand down his shoulder.
"I wouldn't want your dad to be wrong," Ian says. "How does the saying go? Dads are always right?"
"I think that's mothers."
Ian's mouth twists momentarily. "I hope not."
Mickey raises an eyebrow at him.
"I'm sorry about the slushies," Mickey finally says. It comes out a bit fast, but it sounds genuine enough. He clears his throat, eyes fixed on some point across the parking lot. "I thought you were making fun of me."
Ian hardly has a chance to process the apology and frowns, confused. "When?"
"At the assembly." Mickey looks toward the ground. "I thought you were getting me back for the way I treated you, and. You know I'm gay." His cheeks redden and he slants a look at Ian, not meeting his eyes. "And you sang that song," there's a brief pause, like he's trying to find the right word, "at me? In front of everyone?"
Ian blushes, mouth parting as he realizes how it must have come off. "Oh, no. No. I only...it's just." Now he can't find the words. "You're my only friend here, aside from the people I was doing the performance with. I guess I just wanted someone to see it. My parents don't care about this sort of thing, and I don't often get to perform for someone whose opinion I care about." He knows he's rambling now, and stops. "I wasn't...I didn't pick the song."
Mickey just nods, back to not looking at him. He doesn't say anything at first, and then, "You care about my opinion?"
Ian lets out a breath, glancing over. "I thought we were friends."
"Well then." Mickey clears his throat and stands a little straighter. "You sounded shaky at first, pitchy during the chorus, and you make the most ridiculous faces when you sing."
Ian doesn't expect that, and it must show because Mickey sighs dramatically.
"Oh I'm kidding. Except for the part about the faces. You really do make ridiculous faces."
Ian mock pouts, though he can't help but feel pleased. "You liked it?"
Mickey rolls his eyes, but he's serious when he answers, meeting Ian's gaze. "You sounded great."
Ian has to look away when he smiles, because he's afraid he's smiling too much. "Thank you."
"God, you really are such a dork," Mickey says, but he's smiling, too.
"Friends?" Ian asks.
"Fine. But. On the downlow. I'm having a hard enough time keeping the guys off your back after what you pulled in the locker room."
"Oh my god," Ian says, fully turning toward Mickey. "I'm really sorry about that slushie."
"As you should be," Mickey says, drawing himself up and facing Ian. "Orange, Ian? I know that was on purpose. And I had dared to wear Paul Smith. Paul Smith, Ian."
"Don't even, I was wearing my favorite Lacoste shirt on my first day," Ian says.
"Well." Mickey huffs. "I suppose, in a way, I deserved it. A little."
"In a way?" Ian says, raising his eyebrows.
"Maybe the quadruple slushie was a bit much..."
"You are a terrible person, Mickey Milkovich."
"And yet, you keep insisting on our friendship," Mickey counters with a smirk.
"I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment."
"How very masochistic of you."
"You have me all figured out," Ian says, and spins his keyring on his finger. "Want a ride home, sadist?"
"I was hoping you'd say that," Mickey says, moving to the passenger side of the car. When they get inside, he continues. "I didn't think you'd forgive me."
"I said I like you," Ian points out, starting the ignition. "Not liked."
"Such a Hufflepuff," Mickey says, flicking the bowtie Ian's wearing. Ian bats his hand away and laughs.
The car stereo starts up as Ian reverses and cuts into their conversation. "-we will never be, never be anything but loud and nitty gritty!-"
Ian can feel Mickey judging him.
"Pink?" Mickey asks, and yep, there's the judging.
"What? It's fun!" Ian protests. Mickey starts searching the car. "Are you looking for a seat ejection button?"
"I'm looking for your CDs," Mickey says, running a hand between the roof of the car and the window visor.
Ian lifts the arm rest. "Help yourself."
"Thank you," Mickey says primly, and starts flipping through the sleeves. "Ian, do you own anything that isn't played on the radio?" With a sigh he finally finds something, and switches CDs.
Familiar music starts playing, and Ian smirks, chancing a glance over at Mickey. "Mickey, do you listen to anyone other than The Beatles?"
"I will smack you down like the imaginary hand of God-"
"When I was younger, so much younger than today," Ian starts to sing along, cutting Mickey off, "I never needed anybody's help in any way... Come on, I know you know the words."
With a dramatic sigh, Mickey begrudgingly joins in, his voice starting out much quieter than Ian's.
"Help me if you can, I'm feeling down, and I do appreciate you bein' round, help me get my feet back on the ground, won't you please, please help me?"
Gaining confidence, both of them are full-out singing by the end of the song, and jump right into The Night Before. However, as Ian gets ready to launch into You've Got To Hide Your Love Away, Mickey skips to Ticket To Ride.
At Ian's curious look, Mickey just shrugs. "It's not a favorite." He stops any further conversation by singing. "...She's got a ticket to ride, she's got a ticket to ride and she don't care..."
Ian joins in, and they get through about half the song before they arrive at Mickey's house. He pulls up in front and turns the radio down as Mickey climbs out of the car.
"Wait here," Mickey says, leaning against the open window for a moment before jogging up to the house and letting himself inside. He returns a minute or two later and thrusts his hand through the window. In it are several CDs. "Do yourself a favor and listen to something pre-1990, hm?"
Ian takes them with a smile. "Hey, what do you think we were just listening to?"
Mickey snorts and waves a dismissive hand, backing away toward the house. "Everyone likes The Beatles."
"See ya, Mickey." Ian waves.
"Uh-huh. Thanks for the ride." Mickey returns the wave and turns his back, returning to his house.
Ian keeps the Beatles CD in and sings along the entire ride home, smiling.
ooo
Mickey is the first to text Ian since their fight. Ian is filled with an odd sort of warmth, and he wonders what's wrong with him that he likes someone who is so often rude and prickly. He always takes to people fast, always assumes the best and trusts before it's earned. Mickey dented Ian's trust a little, but Ian knows deep down he's already forgiven him.
Mickey: What is this hideous monstrosity on Katie Fisher's head?
Ian glances up at Mickey, sitting a few rows in front of him during French. Mickey looks over and tips his head subtly toward the girl in the aisle next to him, smirking.
Ian: you are terrible & i'm not playing along
Mickey: But I think she's murdered a fox and a duck, sewn them together and made it into a hat. I'm concerned.
Ian: be nice!
Mickey: But I'm against hunting. And crimes against fashion. Mostly crimes against fashion.
Ian: and i'm against failing my french exam
Mickey: 1) Aren't you the one usually bothering ME in this class? 2) It isn't an exam, it's a test. 3) Do you really need help?
Ian: 1 touche 2 still. 3 yes
Mickey: I know I'm going to regret this, but my Thomas Engel Hart boots came in the mail and I've been in a good mood ever since, so, would you like my help?
Ian: yes! :) :) :) thank you Mickey!
Mickey: How about tomorrow after school?
Ian: i have glee club. after glee club?
Mickey: Fine. Your house or mine?
Ian: my parents wont be home how about mine? :)
Mickey: Alright, text me your address.
Ian texts Mickey his address, unable to keep the smile off his face. Their friendship feels so much easier now, like maybe Mickey had to test how genuine Ian was before he could really let himself be himself. Ian can't wait to find out just who that person is.
ooo
When Ian pulls up into his driveway the next day, Mickey's already there, sitting in his car and waiting.
"You're late," Mickey says, getting out of his truck and crossing the yard.
"Sorry!" Ian says, looking as apologetic as he can. "Rachel was talking to me about this Wicked song she wants to do and I actually knew what she was talking about because of the CD you lent me and I totally lost track of time-"
The annoyance on Mickey's face dissolves. "You listened to it?"
"Yeah, about ten times," Ian says, grinning, and hops up the porch steps to unlock the door and let them in.
"There's hope for you yet," Mickey says, and though it comes out snarky, Ian can tell he's pleased.
Ian rolls his eyes and ushers Mickey inside. "Welcome to my home-" There's barking and a flurry of excitement coming from the kitchen that Mickey's staring at, wide-eyed, so Ian leads him over. "These are my dogs. My wittol baybees," he says, breaking into baby-talk. He can't help it, it's like a disease.
The two Pomeranians are bouncing up and down behind the gate keeping them out of the living room, yipping their tiny little heads off. Mickey reaches down to pet them. Or tries to, as they seem determined to be everywhere at once to lick and lick and lick.
"What are their names?" Mickey asks, withdrawing his hand.
Ian steps over the gate and starts to usher his puppies toward the back door to let them outside.
"My mom named them Coco and Chanel," he says, "but one is a boy so I re-named them Lord and Lady Gaga. She doesn't know. I may be giving them an identity complex, but they still come when I call them."
Mickey's just staring at him.
"…What? You don't like Gaga?" Ian asks.
"No," Mickey says, straightening, "I love Gaga." There's a pause followed by an amused smile. "Are you sure you aren't on my team, Ian?"
Ian's eyebrows go up. "You are the second person to ask me that. Should I be worried?"
Mickey grins, teasingly. "Maybe."
"To be honest, I-"
Mickey's grin fades, and Ian can feel Mickey's eyes like a weight on him.
"Nevermind," Ian says quickly, returning back over the gate. Mickey doesn't move much, so he has to squeeze past him, and for some reason it feels more awkward than it should. "You know, that's unfair stereotyping, by the way."
"No, you're right. Sorry," Mickey says, looking genuinely apologetic.
Ian smiles. "I forgive you. Come on, then, let's go up to my room."
There's hesitation, and then Mickey seems to perk up. "Can I look through your clothes?"
ooo
The thing is, sometimes Ian isn't sure if he knows just what he is. He doesn't think he's gay, but there were some moments at Dalton when he found himself watching some of the other boys. He never thought too hard on it, after all, he was surrounded by boys all the time. He didn't go out much, he didn't know many girls, so it was just...they were just there.
He doesn't think about people like that, really. He just doesn't.
His eyes drift to Mickey's ass as the other boy leafs through the shirts in his closet, trying to gauge if he's interested or not, but he just gets embarrassed and looks away.
God, he's going to be a virgin until he's forty.
"What's wrong with you?"
Ian looks up to find Mickey looking at him. "Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm- did you find anything you like?"
"Well," Mickey says, holding a dress shirt up to himself. "I don't think you are particularly fashion-minded, but you do have some very fine things." He drops down in front of where Ian's sitting on his bed, and takes his hand. "Ian, my dearest friend. Can I borrow this?"
Mickey's looking at him with such a funny, doe-eyed expression that Ian can't help but laugh. "That? Sure."
Mickey lets out a tiny squeal and stands, setting the shirt by his backpack.
"Okay, French." Mickey takes his books and notes from his backpack and starts setting up a study area at Ian's desk. He pulls up a second chair and sits, patting the one next to him. "Viens là mon petit avocat."
"...Did you just call me your little avocado?"
"Very good!" Mickey smiles.
Mickey goes over their homework, the chapter, the vocabulary. Mickey makes Ian repeat every word and sentence, correcting him when his pronunciation is off and praising him when he gets it right. He drills him with flashcards and creates phrases for Ian to read and translate. Mickey is a great tutor and seems to have a grasp of the language that extends far beyond their class.
When Ian is supposed to be reading and familiarizing himself with the text, he notices Mickey looking at the photos on his desk.
"They're from Dalton," Ian says.
"Hm?" Mickey seems to come back to himself. "Your old school? Oh, of course. You miss your friends?"
Ian frowns, his gaze moving from one photo to the next. "Yeah," he says, quiet. "Especially Wes and David." He motions to a picture of the three of them taken after Sectionals during his sophomore year. "They were my best friends for three years."
"Aren't they still?" Mickey asks.
"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course. It's just tough, Westerville is hours away, and mom pitches a fit every time I ask if I can take the car out there. That leaves the phone and the computer," Ian says, trying to keep his mood from dropping.
"Still..." Mickey looks at the photos for a long time, and Ian almost thinks the conversation is over, when Mickey speaks back up. "I would hate to have to wear a uniform."
"Don't you, though?" Ian asks, the words out of his mouth before he has a chance to think them through.
"What do you mean?" Mickey's asks.
Ian shifts uneasily, but continues. "You don't wear the clothes you really want to wear to school. Probably hardly at all."
Mickey doesn't look pleased, his mouth forming a tight line and shoulders going tense. He looks at Ian down his nose, which Ian knows is a bad sign. "Do you want to pass your French test, or not?"
"Yes," Ian says, returning his attention back to his book. If Mickey doesn't want to admit he's making things awful for himself, then that's his prerogative.
By the time they end the lesson, the tension seems to have slowly seeped away. Ian feels much better about his chances on the test, grateful for Mickey's help. Mickey declines his offer to stay for dinner and leaves after Ian tries to convince him to duet on his karaoke machine.
When Mickey leaves, the house is quiet and still. Ian is used to being alone, it's not always a bad thing. Truth be told, most of the time it's preferable to spending time with his parents. But this time Ian feels ridiculously and inexplicably lonely. Maybe Mickey bringing up Wes and David hit him harder than he thought. He has friends here, especially Rachel, and now Mickey. But they're all new friendships, and the glee club already seems to have their own cliques that he doesn't feel as though he's truly a part of yet. And Mickey. He thinks he can count Mickey as a friend now, even if only when they're alone. Even if Mickey still feels like a mystery to him.
ooo
It's two a.m. when Mickey texts him. Three texts in a row, otherwise Ian probably wouldn't have woken up to get them in the first place.
Mickey: hey
Mickey: Ian
Mickey: Ian
Ian stares blearily at his phone, willing Mickey's texts to make sense.
Ian: did u sit on ur phone? its 2am Mickey wtf
He can't even bother trying to figure out how to type words, still barely awake. Mickey takes so long to reply that Ian almost falls back asleep.
Mickey: at puckks party
Ian does not care about Puck's party, feels such a flare of annoyance that he can't even explain, and slaps his phone down on his bedside table, turning in bed to resume the really nice dream he'd been having. He's almost there when his phone starts ringing.
"I am going to kill you," Ian groans, fumbling for his cell. It's loud on the other end and he holds the phone away from his ear. "…Mickey?"
"Ian! I needed to talk to you!" Mickey yells. His words are slurred, which pretty much explains everything.
Ian winces. "At two in the morning?"
"It's Friday, Ian. Oh my god."
"I still need sleep, oh my god," Ian mimics, because Mickey's seriously going to wake him up and then make him try to feel lame?
"I'm at a party! You wanna come?"
"Uh, no thanks, Mickey, Puck and I don't exactly get along." Ian fails to keep the acidic tone from his voice, too tired to care.
"Oh yeah…oh, Ian! I needed to call you. I called…I called 'cause I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I slushied you."
Ian rolls onto his back, rubbing at one eye. "Mickey, I know. We went over this already."
"Oh." There's a long pause. Ian can hear booming music and loud voices, and briefly wonders how much Puck's neighbors hate him.
"Mickey?"
"I just wanted you to know, y'know?"
"Okay, Mickey. Thank you."
"We're friends, right?"
Ian smiles a little, even if Mickey is being completely annoying. "Yeah, Mickey. We're friends."
There's another long pause, and Ian's about to speak up when Mickey suddenly exclaims, "There's people having sex right next to me."
"—Uh…"
"Gotta go."
Mickey hangs up, just like that, and Ian is left staring at his phone wondering what the hell. Ian supposes it was sweet of Mickey to apologize again, though, even if while drunk, maybe especially while drunk. He burrows back down into his blankets and pillows to fall back asleep, smiling to himself.
ooo
Ian doesn't see Mickey that weekend, but doesn't push it, not knowing quite what this friendship is yet. Monday morning Ian slips Mickey a coffee in homeroom, hopefully without anyone noticing, "for my alcoholic friend" scrawled across the side in Sharpie. He was listening to the Dresden Dolls on the way to school and he couldn't help himself. Mickey smiles in thanks, but neither the topic of the party or the two a.m. phone call comes up.
Ian finds out that Mickey's been having trouble in his Trigonometry class, and their tutoring sessions suddenly become mutually beneficial. They meet at each other's houses, taking turns between the two. Ian loves Mickey's house. Mostly he likes when Burt makes dinner, or they help Burt make dinner and he gets to eat over. Dinner at Ian's house is always formal and quiet, but it's quite the opposite at the Milkovich household. Though it's just the three of them, they never seem to run out of things to talk about. Mickey and his father feel like a real family, like how real fathers and sons should be. Ian is admittedly jealous, kind of lives vicariously through Mickey when he comes over. Not that he'll ever say so.
He can't remember the last time his father said anything to him that wasn't required. But it's always been this way. Despite Ian's many attempts to please his parents, he doesn't measure up to whatever predetermined idea they had of a son. Straight A's, lead soloist of the Warblers, always well-groomed, always on time, mannerly and polite. None of it makes much of a difference.
Burt says things to him like, good job on the lentils, they don't taste like paste for once; Mickey told me you got an A on your French test, good job; thanks for helping bring in the groceries; thanks for helping with the dishes; thanks for helping Mickey with math, I never went as high as Trigonometry in high school. Ian soaks up Burt's praise without dwelling on it, just knows if he has the choice, he will choose Mickey's house over his every time.
Tutoring soon becomes hanging out, and Ian finally gets Mickey to try out his karaoke machine. They sound good together, really good, but when Ian tries to bring it up, Mickey rebuffs him. If Ian tries to make it into anything other than nothing, Mickey will stop or Mickey will leave, and Ian wonders just how many things Mickey denies himself in the name of pride.
ooo
Ian is about to send Mickey a text to see if he wants to do something after school. Just as he's typing 'Do you,' a notification flashes over his screen for a new text.
Tina: Rachel got slushied! Can you bring her things from her locker to the girls bathroom on the 2nd floor by the art room? locker combo 5-19-3
His jaw drops. Mickey? Ian sends a quick text back and changes the direction he was walking. It's between periods so it takes him a little longer to get Rachel's spare clothes and up to the bathroom.
"I can't believe him," Ian says, pushing the door open. Tina's with Rachel at the sink, who's dripping blue all over herself and the floor. "I can't believe he did this to you!"
Rachel shivers and takes the towel from him with a grateful smile. It turns bitter as she answers. "Why not? They've always done this to me."
"It was Karofsky," Tina says, helping Rachel rinse the syrup from her hair.
Ian pauses, feeling bad for jumping to the conclusion that it had been Mickey. Still, though, that Mickey lets this happen. "Man, I'd really like to just-" He clamps down on his own thoughts, keeping them to himself.
"Ian, no, you'll just get yourself hurt. It's fine. I'm used to it," Rachel says, looking as resigned as she sounds. "Go ahead to class. There's no reason for all three of us to be late."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, go. Thank you for bringing me my clothes." She makes a shooing motion, and Ian reluctantly leaves the restroom.
He's late to French, and gives Mickey a good long glare as he walks into the room. Mickey's expression seems to say what's your problem?, but Ian ignores him and sits. All through class Ian's anger grows, and as soon as the bell rings he stalks out of the room.
Mickey, perhaps surprisingly, catches up with him, tries to pull him aside where it isn't crowded and stop him. "What is yourdeal?" Mickey asks, as thoughhe has a right to be angry.
"What is my deal? Mine?" Ian jabs a finger at Mickey's chest. "You and yourfriends slushied Rachel. I asked you not to!"
Mickey looks downright affronted and pushes Ian's hand away. "I didn't do anything!"
"You're still one of them."
Mickey glares like he wants to burn twin holes right through Ian's head. "And?"
"You like them, don't you?" Ian barrels on. "You hang out with them outside of school. You don't have to, but you do!"
"I thought you understood me," Mickey says, his voice unusually low.
Ian stops, because, though he's felt like Mickey's begun to trust him, here's the first real admittance. And Ian does, he does understand Mickey, at least mostly. He just doesn't agree with it. He's tired of this bully act. What's worse is that Mickey actually gets along with Karofsky and the others, even if just a little. It makes Ian furious in a way he can't explain.
"I do," Ian says. Amends. "I want to."
"I can't control them, Ian," Mickey says, jaw muscles clenched. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep them from killing you?"
Ian swallows. "You could get them to stop-"
"They would turn on me. In a heartbeat. And then the both of us would be screwed, and not in a fun way." Mickey's words have bite, and he steps back. "I have to go to class."
And just like that, he disappears down the staircase.
Ian glances around, but the hallway has cleared, more or less. There's a hallowed out feeling in his chest, and he walks dejectedly toward his next class.
ooo
Rachel's waiting for him at his locker after the last class of the day.
"Hey, Rach," Ian says with a smile, "what's up?" He spins the lock and opens his locker, still looking at her.
"Ian Warbler," Rachel starts, adopting Brittany's nickname for him. "I was wondering if you had a date to Homecoming."
Ian blinks. "I- no. I hadn't even thought about it. We didn't have Homecoming at Dalton."
"It's only the most important dance, second to prom!" Rachel says, looking up at him with her own brand of intensity. "And, well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me..."
"What about Finn?" Ian asks, voice gentle. At the mention of his name, she looks so fragile and sad that he wishes he could take it back.
It's only a fleeting look. Rachel seems to gather herself up. "He's going with Quinn, of course. I'm over it, I can't wait around for him forever. He's not worth the heartache." She glances down. "And...I like you."
Ian knows he's blushing. He doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He dated two, briefly, from Dalton's neighboring school - Crawford Country Day. His first girlfriend, Jennifer, was nice enough. They saw a movie on their first date, and she'd even kissed him good night, but he just wasn't that interested, and he thought she could probably tell because she ended up dumping him. The second was this past summer, but not long after they'd started dating he found out his family was transferring, so he broke up with her. He figured it was better to just cut ties before they fell in love. Or whatever.
So yeah, he kind of sucks at dating. He likes the idea of it, he just feels so awkward when it's actually happening.
He does like Rachel, though. She's nice and they have fun. And he does like dancing...
"Sure," Ian says, smiling again.
"Really?" Rachel's whole face lights up. Ian feels a rush of happiness that he can have that effect on anyone, and feels his own smile widen. "Alright," she says, taking his arm, "I'll call you this weekend with the details of my dress so we can coordinate for the wrist corsage and boutonniere, and we can take your car, right? My dads will probably want to take lots of pictures, so don't be scared! And I think everyone in glee wants to meet up before or after for food, okay?"
"Yes?"
"Perfect! See you later, Ian!" Rachel leans up to kiss him on the cheek and traipses down the hallway. Ian watches her go, and spots Mickey walking the opposite way. Mickey gives Rachel a dirty look when she passes. Ian tries to subtly wave Mickey down.
Mickey rolls his eyes, but leans up against the wall near Ian. "What do you want?"
Ian fiddles with the dial on his locker. "Sorry for acting like a jerk earlier," he says, and means it. He glances over to look at Mickey.
"Fine. I'm sorry your manic, librarian, schoolgirl friend got slushied," Mickey says, not sounding sorry at all, really.
Ian gives Mickey a frank look. "No you aren't."
"Well, maybe not," Mickey admits. "But I'm sorry it upset you?"
Ian rolls his eyes, pulls his Calc book from his locker, and heads down the hallway. Mickey falls into step. Not too close, though.
"I'm taking her to homecoming."
Mickey's mouth opens a moment, but nothing comes out. Ian can't read his expression, but can clearly tell his reaction is not a good one. "What a perfectly short couple you'll make."
"Just because you don't like her-"
"No, I mean it. You're very suited for each other," Mickey interjects. "Dark features, similar height, very well-to-do families. Mutual friends. The-" He waves a hand. "Singing. Finn. You're both two of the most irritating people I've ever met. It's perfect."
Ian can tell Mickey isn't happy, even if he's trying to sound like he's teasing, but he doesn't understand why. "Finn?"
"Nothing."
"You could come with us, if you want," Ian tries.
Mickey stops to stare at him. "Yes, that would be fun. Let me just go find a girl I can pretend to like so I can dance around like an idiot in a gym full of people I hate-"
"Maybe there's a guy-"
"Oh, okay, I'll just play a nice game of gay Pokemon-"
"Geez, Mickey. What the hell is your problem?" Ian snaps.
"Nevermind, Ian. You wouldn't get it," Mickey says. "Clearly."
Mickey gets like this sometimes, rude and snarly, and it always seems to come out of nowhere. Usually Ian can charm Mickey out of his bad mood, he just wishes he knew what caused it, because half the time he has no idea.
Ian lets out a long breath. "Just..." He grabs Mickey's hand to pull him down the stairs after him.
"What are you doing?" Mickey all but screeches, yanking his hand away.
"I'm trying to take you to a movie!" Ian says.
A few people passing by look curiously toward them. Two girls giggle and descend the stairs with their heads tilted close together, whispering.
Mickey's face is red, eyebrows drawn, mouth in an exaggerated frown. He looks like he's a volcano on the verge of erupting. "You have lost your mind," he grits out.
"Going to the movies is not that crazy, Mickey. Maybe you need to get out more-"
"I hate you," Mickey says, and he's moving again. "I hate you more than anyone."
"Really? Even Hitler?"
"Hitler doesn't stalk me."
"I'm not stalking you!" Ian says, following him. "Have you gotten creepy notes in your locker? Flowers on your desk? Breathy phone calls in the middle of the night?"
"No, but I'm sure that's the next step."
Actually, it does sound kind of funny...
Ian hurries to catch up. "Don't be mad, Mickey."
"I mean it when I say I hate you," Mickey says, walking briskly.
"More than gym class?"
"Yes."
"More than Wednesday Bean and Burrito Day?"
"Yes."
"More than when you go to a restaurant and you see this old guy sitting alone and you know his wife probably died and he's alone and lonely?"
"Yes."
"More than Karofsky?"
"Yes."
"...Ouch."
Mickey's still walking with him, though.
"Well, I have a secret for you," Ian says. Mickey doesn't respond, so he continues. "You're my favorite."
Mickey stops walking and looks at him for a long moment. "Look, if I agree to go to this movie with you, will you shut up? You can't talk during a movie, right?"
Ian smiles sweetly, rocking back on his heels. "I'll even buy you popcorn."
"You're going to have to do better than that if you expect me to put out, Gallagher," Mickey says, heading out to the parking lot.
Ian's eyes widen a moment and again he hurries to catch up. "What?"
"I don't put out on a first date unless it's spectacular," Mickey says.
Judging by the amount of blushing he's doing, and the amount of smirking Mickey is doing...Mickey is teasing him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ian says, and tries to come across like he means it.
Mickey makes a rude gesture with his fingers.
"Are you trying to imply we should churn butter together?" Ian asks, feigning innocence.
"Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?" Mickey quips.
"Hey Milkovich! What are you doing with that homo?"
Ian's eyes shoot up in surprise and meet Karofsky's. Of course. Mickey looks ready to kill.
"I'm about to fuck him up the ass, what do you think?" Mickey shouts back, poised, a look of cold fury on his face.
"Have fun, ladies!" Karofsky hollers.
"Not as much fun as you'll be having at the Pick 'N Save, I'm sure!" Mickey flips Karofsky off and climbs into his truck. He reverses and drives off without another word to Ian.
Ian glances back at Karofsky, but he's talking to another football player. Ian's relieved, to tell the truth, and makes his way across the parking lot to his own car.
Ten minutes later Ian gets a text from Mickey.
Pick me up at 6. Wear something nice.
