Hello!

Here is part two of Mickey and Cole's friendship!

You could read this as a stand-alone but I highly recommend you read the first story 'All My Friend's Are Getting Married' so see how the unlikely friendship unfolded.

So please enjoy

Love Squiggle

Ian jolted awake when he heard the front door crash open followed by quick 'shh' sounds. He would have assumed it was Frank breaking in if he wasn't aware that his husband would be arriving home from Boystown right about now. Sure enough, heavy booted feet stomped up the stairs, soon after Mickey tried to quietly tiptoe into their bedroom.

"It amazes me, you used to break into people's house," Ian grumbled, rubbing his eyes, "and get away with it."

"Hey!" Mickey said in a stage whisper, still trying to be quiet, Ian had no idea why when everyone in the house was probably awake now.

"Good night?" Ian asked through a yawn.

"The best!" Mickey slurred, sitting down unceremoniously on the bed, sitting on his husband's legs in the process as he began taking off his boots.

"I still don't understand how you two are friends," Ian said with confusion, rescuing his legs from under the other man.

"Cole's like mold," Mickey said matter-of-factly, "he grows on you."

"Oh my god you are so drunk," Ian chuckled as he watched the other man struggle to take his shirt off over his head. He continued to watch on, the brunette finally managing to wrestle the shirt over his head and throw it across the room, he eventually rid himself of his jeans and climbed into bed next to his husband.

"Hey!" Mickey slurred excitedly, slapping Ian's cheek to get his attention.

"What?" Ian asked, mildly annoyed. It was 3 am on a Saturday night, playing 20 questions with his drunk husband was low on his list of priorities.

"You should come with us! It'd be fun!"

"Fun? For who?"

"Come on," Mickey goaded, "scared you might have a good time?"

"Scared I'd witness your bizarre relationship with Cole," Ian muttered.

"Come on," Mickey goaded again, pushing at Ian's shoulder repetitively, "come on, come on, come on- "

"Alright! Stop!" Ian snapped in annoyance, "I'll do it, just… go the fuck to sleep."

Mickey laughed into the other man's shoulder as he nuzzled his face against it, grinning wickedly at his success. Ian ran his fingers through the other man's hair and sigh in exhaustion, what the hell had he gotten himself into?

It was 10 pm the next Saturday night, Mickey and Ian were walking up to the third-floor apartment in Boystown, meeting with Cole before they headed out for the night. While Mickey had assured him, it would just be a normal night of drinking, Ian was unconvinced.

When the couple arrived at the blonde's apartment, Mickey pounded his fist against the door and smirked as Ian pointed at the doorbell. Moments later the door opened to reveal Cole standing there in a pair of skimpy black briefs covered by a black sheer marabou robe.

"Boys! Come in!" Cole greeted enthusiastically, ushering them inside. "Ian so good to see you!" Cole said, catching the redhead off guard as he placed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Um, yeah hi," Ian return, subtly wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket.

"And Mikhailo!" Cole said, trying to place a kiss on his cheek to which Mickey violently pushed him into Ian, glaring at him and pointing.

"Keep your syphilis infected mouth to yourself," Mickey warned, "and what the fuck have I said about using my name? I'll beat your ass if you call me that again."

"How'd you even find out?" Ian asked curiously "took me like two years before I found out and that was only because I heard a cop read him his Miranda Rights."

"He was drunk off his ass and kept calling me Michael," Mickey explained, "I told him if he was going to insult me, at least do it properly, I thought you would forget."

"I never forget darling; I have a memory like an elephant."

"Yeah, you look like one too," Mickey teased, poking at the blonde's nonexistent fat on his stomach.

"You bitch," Cole gasped, tugged his sheer robe tighter to try in vain to cover himself, "I've never been so insulted.

"Just go put some clothes on you fucking queer."

"Takes one to know one," Cole replied, walking towards his bedroom.

"We in middle school now?" Mickey said, both of them flipping each other off before Cole disappeared into his room and closed the door. Ian watched the exchange in confusion, they were like, actually friends, weren't they? Ian only saw this playful side of his husband when it was directed towards him, otherwise, Mickey was stoic, brooding or menacing. It wasn't personal but after years of Milkovich conditioning, it was his default setting.

Mickey made himself at home, moving around Cole's apartment until he found a silver tray with a glass whisky decanter, pouring himself a large glass and sipping on it. He played with the décor on the shelves, rearranging things just because he knew it would piss off Cole, he walked off when he pulled a leaf off one of the indoor plants.

Mickey sat down on the couch next to his husband and sighed with exasperation.

"Come on! I ain't standing in line all night," Mickey complained.

"Patience!" Cole told from behind the closed door.

"Sounds like you almost want to go, Mick," Ian smirked, placing his hand on the other man's upper thigh.

"Sooner we go the sooner I can get hammered drunk."

"What? And pay $10 a drink?" Ian rolled his eyes.

"Good point," Mickey said, draining his glass before moving across the room and returning with the whiskey glass decanter.

"I just think you can't wait to spend the night dancing with Cole," Ian smirked.

"Fuck off," Mickey told, sipping his drinking side-eyeing the other man.

It was another ten minutes of waiting for the pair, sharing the glass and talking about their weeks before Cole finally emerged with a flourish. He was dress in a pair a tight black leather bondage pants with straps, shiny latex black high heel boots, a white lace long sleeve shirt with a corset belt. His hair was immaculate as always, with a beautiful smoky eye and a vibrant red lip.

"Let's go bitches!" Cole cajoled, looking at his phone before placing it into his clutch, "the uber is almost downstairs, it's time to go find some good dick!"

It was nearing 1 am, Ian was sipping his third vodka soda for the night, he wasn't sure if it was mixing his medication with alcohol or what he was seeing that was making him feel this confused. His husband, THE Mickey Milkovich, south side thug, notorious gangster, a man who would beat you for looking at him the wrong way, was currently dancing, shaking it with all he had on the dancefloor to a remix of 'Barbie Girl' by Aqua.

Cole was there with him, in between a group of sweaty dancers, through the laser beams and artificial fog, doing that weird fucking twerking that Ian did not find attractive, like, at all. Ian cocked his head to the side as he watched them dance, not because it turned him on, no because he was utterly befuddled.

Is this what Mickey had been doing every time he came to the club? The many nights he had gone out with Cole 'for a drink' he expected it to be just that, sitting at some dive bar that his husband felt comfortable at, drinking cheap liquor, talking shit until the early hours of the morning. Not whatever this freakshow was.

Lip, the dick that he was, had put ideas into his head that Mickey might be cheating on him with Cole. He pushed the thoughts aside until his husband turned down plans with him to hang out with Cole instead, they fought about it, one of their biggest blow-ups since getting married. The argument went on for hours, Ian's insecurities shining through while Mickey was defensive and outraged at the accusations. it all ended when Mickey yelled 'he's a bottom, I'm a bottom, why the fuck would I cheat on you with him? It would never work!' Ian couldn't hold back and they both laughed uncontrollably before reconciling by fucking on the kitchen floor.

Mickey fell onto the couch, sitting in the space next to Ian and leaning on him, smiling up at him.

"Hey!" he greeted enthusiastically; his eyes unfocused.

"Hey," Ian returned, looking curiously into the other man's eyes, noticing the glazed over nature, "you take something?"

"Shh!" Mickey whispered, holding his finger to his lips and smirking deviously. Ian wrapped an arm around the other man's shoulders and rolled his eyes.

"That explains the dancing."

"You don't like my dancing?" Mickey asked offended.

"Just never realized you had to be drunk and stoned to get you to dance, you never wanted to with me."

"That's because if you start dancing around me, I'd never be able to keep my hands to myself."

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," Mickey grinned, leaning in to kiss the other man.

"You're so full of shit," Ian laughed as their lips touched.

"Eww, mommy and daddy are kissing," Cole teased, sitting opposite the couple as he downed a shot.

"Don't call me daddy," Mickey snarled, glaring at the blonde.

"You love it," Cole smirked, "speaking of daddy. Need to get me some of that!"

"Who?" Ian asked with mild interest, Mickey turned on him nonplussed and slapped his chest.

"Him," Cole jutted his chin in the direction of the bar, delighted by what he saw. There stood a mountain of a man, Ian would guess 6"6 or even 6"7', sandy blonde hair, short manicured beard and he was huge, jacked, his muscles had muscles.

"Mmm," Ian sighed unintentionally and Mickey slapped him again, harder this time.

"Hello? Husband sitting right here," Mickey complained, giving the redhead his best 'what the fuck' face he could muster.

"Sorry," Ian chuckled, pulling the other man closer to him and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Like you have a fucking chance with him," Mickey said turning to Cole, "And even by some weird twist of fate, imagine if he fucked you? His dick would probably cut you in half, turn you into a shish kabab!"

"You think?" Cole asked excitedly, "that's so hot."

"You fucking whore."

"Be my wingman?" Cole asked, "come on babes, I didn't squeeze this thick and juicy ass into these pants for it not to get the attention it deserves!"

"Pass," Mickey snorted.

"Come on!"

"Fuck off!"

"Free shot?"

"Four"

"One"

"Three"

"Two"

"Fine," Mickey conceded, draining the remains of his whiskey and following the blonde towards the bar.

Ian watched the pair fondly, Cole striding too confidently towards his prey while Mickey grabbed the back of his shirt and steered him towards the bar, the redhead couldn't hear what they were saying but he knew his husband would be asking for his payment upfront. The bartender made the drinks and placed them on the bar and Mickey stared at them in disgust. Ian squinted to see what they were and he cackled to himself. In place of his husband's standard bourbon, scotch or vodka was what Ian knew to be a 'Blow Job' shot, topped off with whipped cream and all.

Scrunching up his face like it physically pained him, Mickey licked the cream off both shots first then proceeded to drain them, he moved to hit Cole when he said something, the blonde laughing at his own joke.

As the next few minutes passed, Mickey worked his magic with the giant. Cole hung back before he made his presence known in a very 'Cole' way. Mickey stood around for another minute before he was not so subtly shoved away while the blonde pulled out all his moves.

Mickey made his way back to his husband, trying to sit down on the couch and almost missing it completely.

"Woah," Mickey laughed, "I think I'm a little drunk."

"A little," Ian snorted, curling into the other man. "so how were your shots?"

"Stupid fucking fairy," Mickey rolled his eyes, "can't drink something normal. Who the fuck names it a Blow Job shot?"

"I hope it's not the only blow job you're up for tonight," Ian smirked, playing with the collar of Mickey's shirt.

"Oh really," Mickey grinned in surprised, his hand cupping the back of Ian's head.

"Uh-huh,"

"Let's get out of here," Mickey breathed.

"What about Cole?" Ian asked. The couple looked over to where he had previously been, only to see him heading for the door, the giant following behind him.

"Fuck him, let's go."

Ian wished he knew what the fuck Mickey had taken. One second, he's red hot, rearing to go, groping and practically molesting him on the L ride back and now Ian is hauling his ass into the house, the brunette almost completely dead weight against him. He unlocks the door, drags him through, locks the door again and approaches the stairs wondering how he is going to get him up there.

He unloads his husband on the bottom step and watches his body sag against them, completely passed out at this point. Ian takes this time to get ready for bed, surmising that it'll be easier without him.

Ian comes back about ten minutes later to find Mickey had slid completely down the stairs, now laying on his back on the landing. Sighing heavily, the redhead crouched down and lightly slapped the other man's face to rouse him.

"Mick,"

"Ugh," Mickey grunted, turning his face away.

"Come on, up and at 'em," Ian cajoled, pulling his husband into a seated position.

"…No," Mickey groaned in protest, his head lolling about. Ian dragged him to his feet, mostly carrying him up the stairs when the brunette didn't want to cooperate. Eventually, they made it to the bedroom. Ian dumped the other in a heap on the bed before he sat down next to him and took off both of their shoes. The brunette sat up suddenly, gagging into his hand.

"Don't you fucking vomit in the bed," Ian warned.

"It's cool, it's cool, I swallowed it," Mickey assured with a slur.

Ian undressed his husband, well, tried too. It was like trying to wrestle a drunk octopus, every time he would move the brunette's limbs they would sprawl about, fighting him at every opportunity he had. Eventually, he just removed the brunette's jacket and jeans, leaving him in a pair of briefs and a cotton tee, too much of an effort at this late hour.

He climbed under the covers and tried to sleep, the night's events starting to catch up with him. But Ian wasn't so lucky, Mickey rolled over and slapped his cheek, his movements not as calculated or soft in his inebriated state.

"What?" Ian groaned.

"Have you ever… like… thought about space?" Mickey asked, looking down at his husband with a faraway look in his eye.

"No Mickey," Ian told, "I don't care."

"Trees are like, really tall," Mickey said philosophically.

"Anything is tall compared to you."

"How much water do you think is in the ocean?"

"Oh my God, shut the fuck up," Ian groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. Mickey smiled drunkenly at him before resting his head on the redhead and curling against his husband.

"I think Cole is my best friend," Mickey stated matter of factly, snuggling his face against Ian's muscled chest and sighing contently.

"I thought I was your best friend," Ian said curiously, wrapping an arm around the other man.

"S'different," Mickey explained, "Cole's like an actual friend. You're my best friend and husband, you outrank him."

"I should hope so."

"I think I'll keep Cole around," Mickey surmised, his voice becoming tired as he closed his eyes.

"I think it's good you have a friend," Ian said truthfully, "didn't think you were capable of making friends."

"I didn't, he just kinda came in and like… adopted me," Mickey laughed sleepily, "imagine the look on Terry's face if he ever saw us together."

"I dunno," Ian smirked, his eyes closed, stroking Mickey's hair as he falls closer to sleep, "the hair and makeup Cole wears. Probably take him a while to realize he's a dude."

"Sounds like that could be a fun afternoon."

"Go to sleep Mick," Ian chuckled, pressing a kiss into the other man's hair. Mickey quickly fell asleep or passed out, Ian wasn't sure which.

Ian was rudely awoken at 7 am the next morning, he strained his eyes as he tried to locate the source of the continuous buzzing sound. He looked over to see Mickey's phone vibrating on the bedside table where he placed it last night. Roughly, he shook his husband's shoulder, receiving a glare in return. Ian pointed to the phone and Mickey begrudgingly answered it.

"What?" Mickey snapped.

Ian couldn't decipher much of the conversation but he heard a frantic, shrill voice, Mickey's face morphing as he listened to the conversation with mild interest before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

"Alright, I'll come by, calm your tits," Mickey told before hanging up and laying back down in bed.

"Well?" Ian asked when Mickey didn't immediately explain.

"So, Cole went home with a guy from the bar?" Mickey asked, to which Ian nodded. "I don't remember, it's all fuzzy. Anyway, they must have been using some toys and doing some kinky shit because now Cole is handcuffed to his bed by his feet and hands, plug up his ass and the guy left him there!"

"No!" Ian laughed.

"Yeah," Mickey chuckled, laying back in bed and pulling up the covers.

"So, are you going to help him?" Ian asked, wondering just how bad the situation Cole had gotten himself in was. Mickey smirked evilly at his husband, adjusting himself to lay in a more comfortable position in bed before closing his eyes, Ian couldn't help but shake his head.

Eventually, Cole was rescued by the pair, Mickey bitching that he needed to bleach his eyes after the scene he had walked in on. Once Cole was cleaned up, he took the couple out for Brunch to thank them.

As Ian watched his husband and his best friend get ready for brunch, (something he never thought Mickey would ever do), he couldn't help but smile. He was glad Mickey had a friend, even if it was fucking bizarre as hell.

So tell me what you think!

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