Chapter Twenty-one: Faggat

Sometimes Ian wished he had just kept avoiding Mickey Milkovich after their most recent fuck. Because they were spending more and more time together, and the more they spent, the more Ian longed for, well. . . more.

It was getting to the point that Ian couldn't keep himself away even when Mickey was being exceptionally cruel. Really, Ian didn't know why he was such a glutton for punishment. Mickey had said it more than once now, past and present: They were done. At least the sexual part of their relationship was done. Now Ian wasn't quite sure what was going on between them. The casual breakfasts had turned into all out high on ganja movie nights and races at the baseball field when neither of them could sleep, where Mickey got pissed even when he won. For some reason. He was a sore winner. Ian had even crashed in Mickey's apartment. Nothing had gone on between them other than watching the Scifi channel out of boredom and playing a few video games. Mickey had acted obnoxious, but had let Ian stay on his uncomfortable sofa, and Ian had pretended that he didn't know Mickey locked the bedroom door.

The whole friendship was weird and painful. At least for Ian. It seemed as though Mickey was fine with being around Ian, openly spending what was honestly a rather good time together. So long as they weren't fucking. So long as sex was never brought into question. So long as Ian didn't give him even the hint of a funny glance. Ian kind of got the feeling that Mickey wanted him around just as badly as Ian wanted to be. And Debbie, who had found out everything from a blabber-mouth Lip, told Ian that Mickey was probably just afraid for some stupid reason. But she was a teenager, and Ian knew just how much he had really known at that age. Not a fuck of a lot; not as much as he had thought. Still he wondered if, at least to some degree, Debbie was on to something. Although he was probably fooling himself. Because yesterday, Ian had caught Mickey on the payphone with a woman, and Mandy had told Ian that the woman was Mickey's girl. Sort of.

Ian paced the hospital lobby during the evening, after he and Mickey parted ways so that Mickey could get to the Alibi Room. Ian had been mean to Mickey on purpose when they parted because he was jealous of the woman in Indianapolis and openly admitted it to only himself. And he hated the fact. Wished he could just move one.

He just kept thinking that he knew better than anyone that Mickey was gay. Hell, so far as Ian was aware, even Mandy didn't know. And she and Mickey seemed close these days. So why the hell was Mickey fucking a woman? It dawned on Ian then that maybe Mickey swung both ways. It would certainly explain a hell of a lot. He growled to himself, ready to pull his hair out. Probably would have, if not for a hand landing firmly on his shoulder. He turned around to see Lip's smiling face.

"What's your matter?" Lip asked. And when Ian shook it off to be nothing important, Lip sighed. "Maybe you should stop seeing him," he said randomly. Knowing.

Ian just stared at his brother.

"It would hurt less," Lip continued. "It did before, after a while."

Ian scowled and ignored the odd glances the other people in the lobby were throwing in the brothers' direction. "Don't you lecture me on my love life," Ian snapped. "At least mine is honest."

Lip snorted and frowned. He crossed his arms and quipped, "Does telling yourself that help you sleep better?"

Ian blanched at him. A lump threatened his voice. Lip knew how to cut someone deep. A trait he had picked up from the late Monica. Of course, Ian guessed he, too, sometimes pulled the same card. Just had, if he was being honest.

Lip shook his head and sat down in a seat in front of Ian. He stared up with wide, in-your-face, eyes. "Mickey's a fucking complicated dick," he said, serious. "And I should know. I've been something close to friends on and off with the guy my entire life."

Ian couldn't really argue. Though he only vaguely remembered Lip and Mickey hanging around each other before Monica left when Lip was thirteen. Now they were hanging around each other again in that stoner sort of relationship. But Mickey was a dick. Ian couldn't argue that. And one of the more complicated people to waltz into Ian's life. Although, he had done more along the lines of stumbling in and tearing Ian's life to hell.

"Just leave it," Lip said forcefully firm. "It's not worth the heartache. I went through the same shit with Karen."

And Ian thought his face must have crumbled, then. Because Lip looked abruptly concerned. But kept on.

"You remember," Lip said, "because you were the one who knocked sense into me."

Ian closed his mouth and will away the tears that sat just beyond the border of his lids, ready to spring. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "No," he corrected, "you had to figure that one out on your own. That I remember." He paused, fighting with himself trying to explain away his heartache. "Maybe I just have to do the same," he said, trying to convince himself along with his older brother.

Lip frowned and stretched his feet out, touching his brother's shoe toes with his own. "Look, Ian, if you already know there's something negative to solve," Lip said softly, "then maybe you should just rip the Band-Aid off."

The twisting of Ian's gut did not let up, and the sinking feeling only worsened. He moaned and knitted his brow, rubbing his pursed mouth. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," he trailed.

That night, the eldest Gallagher boy got a little too drunk and ahead of himself. Lip apparently decided to be Ian's keeper. This went unknown to Ian, who was sleeping in Mandy's room while Lip stalked into the Alibi, sitting patiently waiting for his father's departure. After Frank left, Lip stared blank at Mickey for a long time. Mickey noticed this, easily, as Lip wasn't hiding his disgust. And Mickey didn't know what the hell Lip's problem was. The longer Lip kept glaring at Mickey, the closer Mickey came to tipping the scale; on side Mickey felt Lip's stare crawling under his skin and was so fucking nagged by it that he wanted to reach over and snap Gallagher in two. On the other Mickey was trying to brush it off because he hated to let someone get to him.

Kevin had stayed on for the night because he wanted to keep an eye on Elis. More booze had gone missing over the last couple weeks. May was ending, and Kevin made it known that his gross intake was less than it should have been for the month. Because someone, Elis he had blamed, was stealing shit. Veronica had blamed Mickey once right to his face, and Kevin had taken up for the younger man, foolishly. So since he was around, Kevin was doing most of the serving, leaving Mickey to work barback. Which Mickey hated. Because he fucking loathed cleaning up after anyone. Hell, even himself.

Kevin cocked a brow at Lip and stood in front of his view of Mickey's back. "How's Fi?" Kevin asked, having to speak a little loudly because of the ruckus.

Lip looked down at the bar, relaxing his face. "Terrible," he said. "She just keeps getting worse." Kevin handed him a shot or dark liquor and Lip slung it back. He sat the shot-glass down. "Her heart is beating irregular, and not the irregular that can be overlooked. Her kidneys are shutting down." He swallowed before he finished saying, "They have her on dialysis."

"Fuck," Kevin breathed and looked down at the counter, face drooping. "Veronica came home crying this morning over her," he commented. "I wish Fiona would stop."

"Yeah," Lip sighed. His eyes were pools of despair. "We all do. Even Frank to some degree. You know," Lip paused, smiling a little, "he actually came to see her a few days ago. This time he was polite. And I think he was sober."

"That's a fucking rarity," Kevin commented.

Mickey tried not to listen in, but found himself doing so anyway. He was glad when Kevin walked away to take an order across the room, as a new group of four walked in late. Glad because he didn't like that he was interested enough in Ian Gallagher's life to care about the other man's older sister. Well, perhaps care was a strong word. He had only met her on occasion years ago. So no, he didn't care, not for Fiona's sake anyway.

He stopped stacking glasses when he heard Lip call him over, asking for another beer. Mickey frowned and pulled one from the cooler. He walked the short distance to Lip and sat the bottle down offensively. Lip glared up at him and jerked the beer from Mickey's grasp. This action caused Mickey's temper to flare. "You got a problem with me?" Mickey demanded.

"Yes," Lip said honest and proper.

Mickey sneered.

"I want you to stop hanging around Ian," Lip said, sounding more like an overprotective father than Ian's older brother.

By this time, Kevin had come back to the bar and was mixing a drink off to the far side.

Mickey jumped at Lip's insinuating words. He reached out fast and grabbed Lip's face. His hands pushed hard into Lip's cheeks, bruising. Lip's eyes widened because, whether Lip was a tough guy or not, everyone was afraid of Mickey when he was grinning.

"You keep your god damned tone down, Gallagher," Mickey said calmly. "Don't fucking bring that shit in here."

Kevin was watching them over his shoulder. Mickey wasn't paying attention.

"And what if I don't?" Lip attempted to threaten, but failed because he was still looking at Mickey's grin with scared eyes. "What if tell everyone what a prick you are?"

"You don't have the balls," Mickey said, drone like as his grin faltered.

"Oh yeah?" Lip growled, growing brave. Mickey felt the other man's pulse beating rapid. His adrenaline was pumping into overload. Lip was in fight or flight mode, and Mickey though he knew which way Lip would swing. "Let go of my face," Lip said loudly, "faggat!"

And Mickey honestly wasn't sure what happened after that. Just that Kevin was suddenly on top of him and Lip was scrambling out the door. He figured he had blacked out and attacked Lip. It was the most obvious of scenarios.