"IAN!"
The red-head stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name. He had just crossed the road leading to the entrance of the old abandoned buildings, he turned cautiously to look around, trying to find the source of the interruption.
"Hey, wait up Ian!" Came another shout, still he couldn't place where the voice was coming from, but whoever it was was out of breath, they were obviously running towards him.
"God, how longs it been," said the voice, much closer now, much softer, right fucking behind him, he spun around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"The hell are you doing here?" He asked, probably more ferociously than was necessary.
The older man didn't seem to take offence though, "Not really the greeting I was hoping for," he laughed back.
"OK," the Gallagher boy drawled back, "Hey, how's it going? What the fuck are you doing here?"
Again the other man just laughed, taking the comments in his stride like they were playing some sort of cat and mouse game that Ian was more than unwilling to participate in.
"OK, so good talk, I'm going..." The younger boy stated resolutely, before pushing past his unwelcome companion and making towards the sanctuary of his and Mickey's one time hideout.
"No wait!" The familiar figure turned sharply to grab at Ian's shoulder, his eyes pleading as he tried again. "Just, can't we have a conversation or something... No strings... Just wanna know how you are...?"
Now it was Ian's turn to laugh. "Yeah sure, like you give a shit about anything or anyone else but yourself," he bit back sarcastically. He tried to inject a bit of malice or something into his voice, anything to ward the other man off, but the truth was he couldn't because he wasn't bitter anymore. Hell, he never really had been, he really just didn't care.
Unfortunately, the idiot in front of him took his casual tone as an invitation to start said 'no strings' conversation.
"You still in ROTC? Working at the shop? How's school Ian?" He enquired pleasantly, almost bouncing with excitement at the prospect of being let back in.
"Yes, yes, fine." He replied dryly, with a straight face and monotone. "Now if you'll excuse me, I got places to be..." Again Ian shrugged his arm away and turned to continue his journey, but once again he was halted from any real progress by a stubborn hand on his shoulder, a stubborn hand attached to a stubborn man from his past.
"Listen," the now stranger all but whined, "I'm sorry, OK, sorry for being a fucking idiot, sorry for taking off, sorry for leaving you behind..."
Ian laughed again, "You think I'm angry about that? Think I wanted to come with?" He snorted at the other mans affronted expression. "I'm doing well, OK," he explained tiredly, "Not angry at you, don't care enough to be, so I'm good, you're good... we're good!" He added, waving an invisible line between the two of them to demonstrate the point, in the hopes he'd be let go sooner if the other man believed there was no bad blood between them.
"Good," the ex-lover whispered cautiously, obviously startled at how this conversation was going. "So how about that conversation?" He asked softly, shrugging his shoulders and forcing out a hopeful smile. Ian, once again, turned to walk away with a small huff of his shoulders. "I just..." the man blurted out desperately, "I miss you, just wanna know about you life Ian, I used to know everything about your life..."
"Ha, not everything," Ian grimaced at the memory of the relationship he once thought meant more to him that it did the coward in front of him, now he was just glad it ended as early as it did so he was able to experience real emotion.
"We were good together though," the man was clutching at straws, digging for remnants of the boy he once knew, still wanted, "You gotta admit, we made a good team." He forced a smiled and looked into the deep green eyes he'd dreamed about for so long.
Ian inhaled and exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes and looking to the sky for just a moment. He ran his left hand through his hair and dropped his right hand to trace across the bottom of his spine, looking for Mickey's touch. Even though the ex-con wasn't there, wasn't the one putting the pressure on the now familiar spot, Ian still felt the strength thrumming through him. He collected himself and turned to the person he no longer knew, "Look," he said bluntly, "We were a mess, and a bad idea, and you leaving was probably the smartest thing you've done since I've known you." The other mans expression fell flat and Ian pinched himself for pitying him. "But," he added reluctantly, "We worked once, whatever the fuck we were, it was important to me once... Hell, I probably even thought I loved you on-"
Ian was cut off from his condescension by lips crashing on to his, he pushed back fiercely and immediately broke the contact.
"Kash, what the fuck?!" He yelled with anger already clouding his reactions.
"Just..." His one time boss fumbled back, "I just... Let me..." And then he was kissing the red-head again with added further.
"What the fuck!" Iggy yelled, slamming a hand into Joey's chest and forcing him to stop in his tracks and take in the scene in front of them.
They had been at the derelict buildings almost the whole day. Eventually the target practice had stopped and Joey had gone on a beer run while Iggy pre-rolled a handful of joints. The two of them had sat in their old hideout after that, drinking, smoking and reminiscing about simpler times. The more they imbibed, the more open they were to their memories, the less painful it was to remember all of their brothers. The longer they'd sat there in that familiar old room, the easier it was to start to talk about Mickey again, to laugh about the stupid shit he used to do. By the end of the day the boys had been in stitches remembering the time with the dwarf at the swimming pool, they'd rolled on the floor laughing to the memory of Mickey threatening to kick the life guard in the shin if he didn't go along with their plan.
And that time they'd had their first shake-down for shop lifting. Running around the local Walmart and being very unsubtle in their attempts to steal the most expensive things they could fit under their coats. The store manager had collared them all and herded them into the office to pat them down and Mickey had kicked off in defence of them all. He'd yelled at the top of his 8 year old lungs that the man wasn't to touch them, that he'd sue the shit out of the whole store if the man laid a hand on his brothers. He'd yelled that he'd heard all about his type, the kinda guy who got his jollies from touching little boys. Iggy had joined in then, laughed and called the man a 'dirty fucking queer' and they'd all laughed until Terry had come to pick them up. Their father had clouted them all on the back of their heads for getting caught, but giving them all beer when they got home for making the effort.
The reverie had petered out after that, both boys silently remember those 3 words they'd all hurled around so fancifully for such a long time, such an easy insult and such a fucking honest one.
After a while of just going over all of it in their minds, separate inner monologues and individual ponderings, both boys had silently come to the conclusion that the trip down memory lane was over. With one last stone throw each, they both missed, and a final look around to say goodbye to the place for good, the two Milkovich siblings had left the empty shell of their old sanctity and walked back towards relative civilisation.
As they'd wandered around the final corner before the main road back into town, Iggy had looked up and stopped dead.
"The fuck!?" Joey had shouted at the sudden shove from his brother, before following his eyes to see the two figures just in front of them. Ian Gallagher. Kissing another man. A man that was not Mickey.
"Oh fuck no!" Joey bellowed as he hurled himself towards the figures in the distance.
Iggy charged after his brother, not knowing whether he wanted to stop him from doing something stupid and getting his ass thrown in jail, or doing the stupid thing himself and serving the time proudly.
Ian pushed Kash away for a second time, not as quickly as the first because Kash had managed to knock his arms out from in between them and he couldn't get leverage on the older mans body. He wasn't quick enough though, as one minute he was pushing away a panicked ex lover, and the next he and said ex were being barreled into by a pair of fuming Milkovichs.
"The fuck did I say to you, huh?!" Joey yelled as he landed on top of Ian and threw a punch at the younger boys face.
Iggy had tackled Kash and easily separated the withering fool from his phone in order to prevent any 911 related incidents.
"Joey wait..." Ian struggled to get out between defending himself from vicious blows. He finally managed to kick the enraged thug off of him and jump to his feet, Iggy holding his attacker off of him, probably just to stop the older boy from killing Ian before he got a few hits in himself. "It's not what you think!" He rushed to explain, arms in the air placatingly, imploring the brothers to give him a chance to listen.
"Like fuck it isn't," Iggy hurled back before Joey had a chance to speak. "Or does fucking kissing mean something different in fairy world?"
"Oh that's clever," Kash mumbled from his position still on the floor. He'd obviously meant to be a lot quiet though, because the horrified look on the cowards face as the three youths turned to look at him, showed just how much the shop owner wished he had just kept his mouth shut. Iggy stomped on the hand he had resting on the ground and knelt down to whisper into Kash's ear sinisterly.
"You listen to me asshole," he spat dangerously, "You just crossed a Milkovich, you're this close to me just putting a bullet between your fucking eyes right now and putting you out of our misery," Iggy raised a hand and pinched his pointing finger and thumb together to highlight just how close he was to loosing control. "You say another fucking word and I you'll go from this close..." He sneered, closing the gap between finger and thumb until there wasn't even a space for air, "To already fucking dead, you understand me?"
Kash just cowered and sank into the floor some more.
Iggy raised himself and took his place next to his brother, in front of the red-head who still had his arms raised protectively. "Unfortunately you ain't so fucking lucky Gallagher, any last words before I rip off you shit-stain head?"
"Just wait a minute," Ian implored but he was saved from having to say anything else when another fist flew at his face.
Mickey was pumped up with energy and adrenaline, yet he was exhausted at the same time. He'd been storing up a lot of hatred for the man he blamed for Danny's death. A hatred he was so desperate to cling to because hatred was something he knew, something he could deal with and understand. But now, Charlie had seemed so lost, in a way Mickey would never understand because he'd been there. When Danny had left their lives for good he'd had no regrets because he'd been with up right up until the end, he'd visited the guy in jail the day before and they'd laughed and joked about Mickey stealing his car to enter into a demolition derby for a bit of extra cash. Well Mickey had laughed and joked, Danny had only laughed between glares. They'd separated as they'd lived, friends of some sort, more than friends actually, family. He'd loved Danny in a way he hadn't ever understood before, and Danny had loved him in a way he'd never known he'd needed.
But Charlie would never be able to feel that peace or reassurance. Every day for the rest of his life would be a guessing game as to what his father was thinking when he died, whether he'd forgiven him or whether he'd finally pushed too far. He'd never feel the security of knowing that person, who was so important, was proud of the person you were and had no doubts about the man you'd grow up to be despite the myriad of doubts you had yourself. For all intents and purposes, he was broken, and desperate and trying so hard to be someone that he needn't be trying to be.
Mickey pitied him, he felt so sorry for him and so relieved to not be him. And he was relaxed in a way he hadn't been in so long, having finally got some of that hatred and pent up anger off of his chest. Having said a part of what he wanted to say. He'd go back maybe, he knew it was possible, that one day he'd remember some other insult, or maybe he'd be the better person and think up some kind of reassurance. Either way, the chance was there that he'd go back and more would be said and he may feel even lighter from lifting an age old burden even further off of his shoulders.
For now though, his veins were coursing with the feel of this new found freedom for a grudge that had been so intrinsic within him. He was exhausted from the emotional battlefield he'd just navigated, but he was happy to have come through it with such a powerful new purspective. Because he was the one with the power now, the power to decide if he would forgive and forget, or hold onto the grudge without having to really participate in it anyway.
He was pumped, his pulse racing, and his mind running as he sped down the road towards the old ruins he'd always called home in some form or another. He turned the last corner with a spring in his step, and then he looked up and his world shattered.
"Get the fuck off of him," he howled, sprinting across the empty road and hurtling toward the image of his brothers throwing punch after punch at the cornered Ian.
He grabbed Iggy and threw him off the red-head who had been pinned to the floor. He push Joey away and reached for his lovers hand to pull him back up onto his feet. Then he positioned himself between the man he loved and the brothers he so missed so desperately.
"What the fuck!" He yelled at no one in particular.
"You sure do know how to fucking pick 'em Mickey!" Joey snarled back before turning on his heel and making to walk away.
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" He shouted back, grabbing his brother's arm and spinning him back around.
Joey violently shook off Mickey's hand and then recoiled his arm as if he'd been burned. Mickey internally flinched at the thought of bein that disgusting to someone he cared to deeply about. But externally he schooled his features and tried to remain calm.
"Mick, it's OK," Ian pleaded, instinctively reaching a hand up to Mickey's lower back.
"Don't say another fucking word, you lying sack of shit!" Iggy roared before he could stop himself, he couldn't help it, he didn't want that piece of shit touching Mickey.
"What the fuck is going on?" Mickey demanded, looking between all three of the men in front of him.
"It doesn't fucking matter," Joey stated bluntly, once again turning to leave.
"Mick, they just-" Ian started to explain but was cut of by a volatile and incredulous Iggy.
"He was practically fucking some guy out here in the god damn street, that's what's going on!"
Joey stopped dead, but didn't turn. Iggy gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes closed. Ian's mouth dropped open in desperation as Mickey's eyebrows shot up his forehead, the tattooed ex-con turned slowly to face his lover with a questioning look etched into his features.
"Mick, I swear to god-" the red-head started again, only to be cut off once more.
"Swear to whoever the fuck you want," this time it was Joey who interrupted, "It doesn't change shit, you're still scum." The oldest boy slowly turned around to look straight passed his brother and into the eyes of the man he hated more than anything for taking Mickey away, only to betray him so fucking brazenly. "I fucking told you, I said it wasn't fucking enough... You weren't enough... And I was fucking right," Joey approached dangerously, snarling out his words with a calm sort of aggressive that seemed to be instilled in all of the Milkovich children.
"What?!" Mickey asked no one in particular, stunned silent from everything his brain was trying to process. Ian reached out to touch his lover again and that was the last straw for Joey who hurled himself forward again to break the contact between the dirtbag he detested and the brother he was trying so hard to not care about.
Iggy pulled Joey back as quickly as he could, before a fight could break out. He knew that until Mickey understood the truth about the asshole he was protecting, that that was exactly what he'd do. He'd protect Ian with his life and he couldn't handle another fight with his brother, not one designed to actually hurt each other.
"You don't understand..." Ian protested desperately, angry and frustrated.
"Fuck you!" Iggy responded with a venom that shocked even himself.
"Someone better tell me something quick or I'm gonna lose my shit..." Mickey all but begged for some sort of closure to this mess.
"He was in the middle of the fucking street dry humping with the towelhead from the Kash'n'Grab!" Iggy explained aggressively, thrusting his arm in Ian's direction with nothing but disgust.
"Kash was here?" Mickey yelled, eyebrows once again reached up his forehead.
"Fucking coward bolted soon as he got the chance, you picked a real fucking winner there asshole!" Joey hurled to the panicked red-head.
"He back now?" Mickey asked angrily, turning to Ian for answers.
"Mick he just fucking turned up out the blue, I tried to walk away but he kept fucking pulling me back. I basically told him to fuck off but he wasn't get it. He fucking kissed me Mick and I pushed him away, but then he kissed me again and they musta seen it cause next thing I know I'm pushing Kash away again then they're on us like a tonne of fucking bricks."
"Oh likely fucking story!" Iggy scoffed sarcastically.
All four boys were breathing heavily, chests heaving with barely contained anger and resentment, desperation and uncertainty clouding their uncertain minds. Silence reigned for a few moments as Ian and Mickey stared into each others eyes, one pleading to be believed and the other searching for any hind of a lie.
"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Mickey shouted into the silence, rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb before clenching his fists and pacing a few minute steps up on the pavement.
"Mick," Ian whispered cautiously, raising his hand to the other boys back slowly, three sets of Milkovich eyes were on him, "Just don't get caught." He muttered with a reassuring smile. He could have begged Mickey not to do something stupid, but he was all too aware of the other eyes on him, waiting for him to show one single sign that he cared for Kash's well being. He knew how easily they would mistake his desire to stop Mickey from becoming a murderer for his desire to protect Kash.
Mickey just scoffed and nodded humourlessly.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" It could have been either Joey or Iggy who'd asked the question, both boys looking incredulously between Ian and Mickey, their tempers both rising rapidly again. "You're buying this shit?" Joey added.
"He aint lying!" Mickey responded matter-of-factly, once again standing in between his brothers and his lover, practically daring them to try attack the red-head again.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Iggy yelled, "He's taking you for a fucking fool, man, he's fucking laughing at you!"
"You think so?" Was the ex-cons only response, calm and collected.
"I fucking saw it with my own eyes!"
"You don't know what you fucking saw," of this Mickey had no doubt.
"Oh, fuck you, man!" It was Joey's turn to shout. "He's a fucking lying sack of Gallagher piss! He's Frank's son for fucks sake, you gonna believe a word he fucking says? He's not fucking worth it!"
Mickey didn't respond, just stood his ground between the people he loved.
"He's fucking scum Mickey!" Iggy tried to get Mickey to understand, he all but begged him to see sense. By his side Joey was all but pulling his hair out.
"He is gonna fuck you over, again and a-fucking-gain!" Was Joey's next contribution.
After more silence from Mickey, the other Milkovich's started talked over each other to hurl insults Ian's way, promises of fucking heartbreak and misery for Mickey if he didn't get smart quick.
Mickey tried to drown the voices out, tried to calm his frayed temper and just drown out the sounds of his brothers ripping his world apart. He tried not to hear them, to focus on Ian's hand on his back. He tried to let it all brush over him. But their voices just got louder, their words crueller, their promises more vivid and more horrific until Mickey couldn't take any more noise and he just lost it.
"What the fuck do you care!?" He shouted to both brothers.
Ian grabbed his shirt to stop him from moving forward towards a fight.
"Your our fucking brother!" Joey shouted before he could stop himself, Iggy for his part, just shook his head in incredulous agreement.
"I don't have any brothers!" Mickey returned sharply, painfully for everyone involved. "Remember, I ain't one of you anymore! Just the four of you now, I'm nothing, fucking no one... REMEMBER?!" He boomed, a desperate sort of anger consuming him from every fibre of his being. "Why the fuck do you care?"
Another pause, where both Iggy and Joey seemed to contemplate everything that'd happened so far that day. The memories flashing through them both as Mickey stood there in front of them, so close yet far to far away to touch or even really feel.
"Fuck you!" Joey spat when he couldn't come up with anything else to say, his mind clogged with the things he was supposed to feel and the things he actually felt. He stormed off without a single glance back and Mickey could feel a tear sting at his eye at the renewed loss. Iggy stayed in front of him for a few moments longer. Either looking at him properly for the first time in forever, or simply looking through him like he was nothing, Mickey hated that he couldn't tell which. Then, as sudden as this had started, it was over. Iggy turned and walked away, following the footsteps of his older brother, who was already halfway down the block and almost entirely out of sight.
Mickey exhaled the breath he'd be holding in for dear life, he sagged where he stood and all but fell to the floor in built up emotion and stabbing disappointment. Ian caught him and pulled him into his arms. "I'm so fucking sorry Mick," he whispered into his hair. "So fucking sorry."
Ian told him everything, as they were walking home. He told Mickey about what had happened with Joey a couple of days before, what he planned to do, why he hadn't say anything, his own doubts about how undeserving he os of a man who has literally given up his life for him.
Mickey just listened and acknowledged what was being said, umming and ahhing in the appropriate places. His face didn't betray any of the emotions that Ian knew were bubbling under the surface.
It was only when they'd walked through the front door of their house that Mickey allowed himself to breath, allowed himself to slump to the couch and all but hyperventilate in his desperate attempts to control the feelings boiling up under his skin. He didnt cry, tears leaked and his eyes stung through unshed moisture, but he didn't cry. Ian sat beside him and said nothing, he was just there, right where Mickey needed him, whenever Mickey needed him.
After a long and almost stifling silence Ian heard a sound he loved more than any other, a sound he was more than a little surprised to hear tonight. Mickey was laughing, it was short and conflicted, not forced but unsure. Ian leant forward and reached to turn Mickey to face him, he raised his eyebrows as if to ask what was so fucking funny, a small smile forming on his own lips from just the sight of Mickey relaxing again.
Mickey just breathed for a few moments more, a conflict of emotions flooding his thoughts, an internal battle between hope and desperation. "They fucking give a shit," he whispered with almost comical snort of confusion.
It could have broken Ian's heart to see the range of battling emotions in Mickey's eyes. The hurt and the confusion, daring to hope but being too scared to allow himself to believe it. It could have broken his heart to see Mickey so uncertain and so desperate. But instead Ian smiled brightly, a blinding smile that danced around his eyes when he looked into Mickey's piercing blue orbs and saw that, for now at least, seemingly insurmountable pain and doubts had given way to hope. Mickey was smiling too.