When Ian and Mickey had met, it had been summer. The boys were ten and knew nothing of one another save the reputation that came along with their family names. For whatever reason, Frank had needed to speak to Terry, and Fiona had been off at a track meet. Begrudgingly, he offered to take Ian on a special field trip to a "very exciting place". When they'd arrived at the Milkovich house, Ian had been less than impressed, but he had been promised a popsicle for going along with whatever scheme Frank was running this time, so he decided to hide his disappointment.
They climbed the rickety steps, and Frank banged on the door. A thirteen-year-old Iggy gave his best impression of toughness and intimidation when he answered with his body blocking the doorway and an inquisitive glare. Ian had rolled his eyes and looked around at the yard. As he examined the dead yellow grass and abandoned yard toys scattered around, his eyes locked onto something far more interesting, a young boy his age throwing rocks towards the L tracks that crossed near the yard. He watched for a minute while Frank argued his way inside, strangely entranced by the other boy. At that age, he'd never been able to place the feeling, but he felt drawn to Mickey in a way he'd never felt. Before he had a chance to properly get a look at the other boy's face, Frank snapped at him to come inside. He jerked his eyes away from Mickey and obediently followed, still hopeful for the promised popsicle that had become more and more appealing every second they'd spent in the sun.
When they entered, Ian went to sit on the couch and wait for Frank while he spoke to Terry. He sat there, staring at nothing, considering what kind of popsicle he would want and whether Frank would actually keep this promise. The longer he waited the more he decided that it was likely not going to happen, and he began to think of ways he could convince Fiona to get him one. As he sat thinking, the front door swung open to reveal the boy who'd been out in the yard. Ian jerked his head up in surprise, stunned by the force of the entrance and the anger permanently etched in Mickey's young face.
"The fuck do you want?" Mickey snarled as he sized up the kid sitting in his living room.
Ian could barely get a sentence together but managed to stammer out he was just waiting for his dad. Mickey glared but said nothing else and went on into the house. Ian's heart hammered, and he decided whatever draw he had felt for that boy had been misguided. There was no way they would be friends.
Ian sat in the Milkovich living room for nearly an hour before he started to get restless. He could still hear Frank talking, so he hadn't been abandoned, just probably forgotten. He decided that if he was supposed to be here he could at least have a drink. Rising from the couch, he made his way to the refrigerator to see what he could find. After a moment of looking inside, he chose orange juice, as it was the only thing sitting on the shelf that wasn't curdled or expired. He set it on the counter and grabbed a glass when he was interrupted again by the sudden presence of the youngest Milkovich boy.
"What do you think you're doing?" He asked, arms folded accusingly.
"I'm getting a drink." Ian quipped back. "I've been here forever, and I'm bored."
Mickey looked at Ian for another moment, seeming to truly see the other boy for the first time before he dropped his arms and went to the counter beside Ian. "You're drinking orange juice? Gross, what are you a baby?" Ian shot him a glance, thoroughly annoyed by Mickey's decision to not only prevent him getting a drink but criticize his choices. The shorter boy went over to another cabinet, pulling down a bottle of brown liquid. "Look, this is how my dad makes it. He says it'll make you tougher if you drink it." He poured what Ian now identified as Jack Daniels into the cup of orange juice.
Ian grimaced and looked uneasily at the new concoction. "Are you sure?" He asked as he reached for the cup.
"Yeah, Jack and orange juice is the best combination in the world." Mickey said, obviously trying to sound cool. Ian took a sip and coughed hard after it went down. Mickey laughed at him and took a sip himself, clearly fighting the urge to spit it out as he did. After he made it through without any repercussions, he smirked. "Guess you're just lame." He said and went to claim the couch Ian had vacated.
As Ian stood in the kitchen blushing furiously from the combination of embarrassment and coughing, Frank came back out saying it was time to go. They left quickly with Frank casting a look over his shoulder every few feet until they were blocks away. Ian briefly considered bringing up the popsicle he had been promised but thought better of it as he saw how agitated Frank was. Instead, he preoccupied himself with thoughts of the strange boy he'd met, wondering why he'd been so rude and why he'd been so fascinating at the same time. The only thing he asked as they made their way home was the young boy's name. Frank had stopped for a second in thought before coming up with Milton which Ian was fairly certain was wrong. He resolved to ask Lip when he got home.
As he got older, Ian had laughed at that day many times. He wondered what had made the young Milkovich the way he was and pitied him when he found out. He wondered what had piqued his interest in that same boy and why every so often he thought of him when his mind drifted. The answer to that question alluded him for much longer, never knowing that he was not alone in his confusion.
Mickey thought about Ian many times as they grew up. When they'd first met, he'd immediately had the strangest feeling come over him. It startled him, and he resolved to lash out. Whatever it was, it meant the other boy was weird, and he didn't want to be around a pussy. As Mickey had aged, he had noticed Ian at school and had always gotten that same strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It made him nervous, and he avoided the other boy like the plague. It was a feeling he never wanted to unlock, a feeling that only became more dreadfully clear as each year passed. That fateful day when he had realized his true feelings for Ian. The stone that he'd felt in his stomach for years in Ian's presence had melted away. Everything had melted away, and when they kissed, all he could taste was the sweet mix of jack and orange juice.