Sweat likes to roll off the skin, like its got a mind of its own or something. It likes to bead and pool in every crease of fabric and make your clothing shrink a size or cling to your body like it wants to become a part of you. It's funny because sweat is a lot like alcohol. The first whiff you get smells fucking disgusting and you think that there is no way you'll ever like it, but then you get an expensive bottle and you're down a fifth before you even realize you can't walk.
With sweat, you start to realize that if it's falling off the right body and leaving sighs and staggered breaths in its wake – you kinda love it.
Ian was practically glistening under the lights of the club. His tshirt a darker gray than Mickey knew it really was and he just knew if he reached out and touched, he'd feel it - sweat.
Mandy was laughing open mouthed and looked more carefree than he could remember seeing her in years. It reminded him of how Ian and his sister were best friends. Mandy had been harboring Ian's secret so close to her chest she practically consumed it – hiding it from him and from the world. Even now, even knowing all she knows she still so loyally speaks in hushed tones.
Ian noticed him and broke into the biggest shit-eating grin he'd ever seen. He was drunk, he could already tell. Ian doesn't smile like that anymore on his own.
"Mickey!"
Mandy turned and her hair narrowly missed whipping Gallagher in the face. Her eyes were all at once foggy and clear because she'd adopted normalcy in this state long ago. "Big bro where did you come from?"
He growled and made to sit down in the empty seat next to her and not the one near Ian. "Fucking babysitting your kid."
She hiccupped. "Oh, did you have fun?" Not a trace of sarcasm could be found in her voice, it was all genuine curiosity.
"No."
Ian tipped back a drink and signaled for another before he even had the glass back on the bar.
There are a total of 6 bars in the Southside. Out of them only three are halfway decent and out of those only the Alibi actually let's you fucking drink all you want. After leaving Fiona to eat her own words Mickey checked each one of those 6 bars. He'd grown bitter enough to smash a bottle the moment he saw that Ian and his sister weren't at the Alibi and by the time he'd struck out at all of them he'd looped right around to not giving a shit anymore.
He wasn't even sure what had inspired him to walk into the no name club; and that's what it was, it wasn't a bar. Thanks a fucking ton for that false information Fiona.
Sure there was a blonde busting out of her shirt serving up that nights regrets but still it wasn't a place full of drunks sitting around and getting more drunk. It was full of people making fools out of themselves. Dancing and puking and fucking in the bathroom – he hated clubs.
"Please come with me!" She pushed him along his spine down the street toward a half lit up neon sign.
He moved away and caught her before she fell into a puddle. "It looks like shit and you've got awful taste anyways."
Stella pushed out her bottom lip in a pout and laced her arms around his neck. "Pleaseeeeee."
Mickey shook his head no but somehow ended up sitting on a chair watching her dance all night. He somehow paid way too much for drinks for the two of them from another pretend bartender.
He somehow ended up holding her hair later that night over the toilet anyways.
He let the whiskey slide down his throat and it burned. It was the cheap stuff, the stuff you drank to hurt. His fingers drummed on the counter and Ian watched them with a laser vision glare.
They locked eyes for seconds before the middle Gallagher pushed off his stool and made his way to the center of the floor. The song that was playing sent the bass vibrating through his whole body and he watched glued to every move Ian made.
One girl with long blonde hair matted with sweat dragged her hand across his shoulder blades before wrapping her other arms around his waist.
Mickey couldn't look away, couldn't blink and he felt his eyes become drier and drier by the second. Mandy glanced at him like she was watching some sort of experiment unfolding before her.
The eyes that woke up to Mickey's that morning closed and no – he had to be fucking with him.
Ian wrapped two firm hands on the girl's hips and the bruises on Mickey's began to ache. He was doing this to him, this was for him.
Stella writhed and pushed the hands off of her as the guy knotted his fist in her hair. She had tears starting to form under the heavy eyeliner and Mickey lost it because – because that look.
The makeup showing his sister and the pleading showing Ian and he needed to do one good thing for them, even if they weren't actually there.
He practically flew from his chair feeling the whiskey starting to come back up. Mandy's body tensed and jumped in surprise and Ian opened his eyes from behind the girl - now grinding hard into his dick - just in time to see him disappear behind the bathroom door.
His vision started to blur and leave him while he white knuckled a grip on either side of the sink. Where was he? His mind rearing from the memories of Stella in New York and Ian with the girl on the floor.
"Mickey?"
Ian placed a hand on the jumping muscles beneath his shirt and Mickey turned to face him feeling his eyes beginning to water to alleviate the burning.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Vodka was practically oozing from Ian's skin. He smelled like his fucking dad, or Frank. "You're fucked you get that right? Look at you."
Ian chuckled and pushed forward so that Mickey's lower back arched over the sink toward the mirror. "Still jealous huh?"
He raked his nails over Ian's chest and didn't know if he was trying to hurt him or keep up with him. "You're wasted"
Their lips were inches apart and god he really did reek. Mickey couldn't distinguish one of them from the other anymore. And skin on wet skin just made everyone wet so why would he even need to know whose fault it was?
A tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip and Mickey really thought about how much he fucking hated clubs. How much he hated the cliché and he wanted to fuck Ian but not in this bathroom.
"What's the matter Mick?"
His hands found their way back to where they last left their mark and Mickey groaned further into Ian pushing and clawing to get some sort of friction. He just wanted to fucking light them up already. Why waste time?
With closed eyes and heavy breathing he leaned his forehead against the younger man's. "I hate you for being so broken."
"Promise me that you'll tell me about him one day." Stella mumbled before falling asleep with her head on Mickey's lap. He'd taken off her clothes and wrapped her in a blanket so that she wouldn't smell like vomit anymore.
"Not much to tell."
She scoffed at the idea, "You're a terrible liar."