Ian had spent the first two weeks of his summer vacation working with Lip in the ice-cream truck. Lip and Kev ran a small summer business out of the old truck. Yeah, they sold some actual ice cream, snacks and drinks out of the truck, but their main goal was selling beer and joints to anyone over the age of fourteen. Lip had rigged a machine to detect when the cops or patrols were nearby, and it kept their illegal business relatively safe. (His older brother was a genius.)
Ian had only just managed to convince Lip to take the afternoon off and come play ball with him. He was so happy to be on the baseball field again. All of the Gallaghers had come along, bringing their friends, and Ian had arranged two roughly equal teams by adding some stray neighborhood kids into the fray. The game was decent. Ian played first base as usual, but also doubled as the umpire. He even hit a few good pitches, scoring his team 3 runs.
He was sitting with Lip in the dugout after their game. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still in full force and the park was full of kids, families and even pets. They were passing a joint back and forth. Ian relished these moments; he only smoked when he was in Chicago.
"So, you got a girlfriend yet?" Lip asked him.
"No, not yet..." Ian answered. "I'm concentrating on school and baseball," Ian explained. It was a lie, of course. He and Lip were close, but he still didn't feel comfortable telling his brother that he was gay. Lip didn't really need to know. "You?"
"Not really. I've been seeing this chick from school, but it isn't anything official. She's crazy in bed, though. Gives the best fucking hummers I've ever had." Lip went on to describe the blowjobs, but Ian started to zone him out. His attention was drawn to a guy sitting on the bleachers on the opposite side of the field.
"Who's that?" Ian asked Lip when the older boy had finished talking.
"Who?" Lip looked around.
Ian cocked his head in the guy's direction. "The guy sitting on the bleachers. He was watching the game, right?" Ian thought he had noticed him before, but he had been distracted by the game, so he hadn't given the guy a second thought. It was weird that he was still sitting there now that the game was over.
"Oh, that's just Mickey Milkovich. Don't pay attention to that fag. He just got out of Juvie and works in the park... probably so that he can be near all the little boys or something. The asshole called the cops on us twice last week when we were here with the truck." Ian tried not to flinch at Lip's derogatory description of Mickey. Surely Lip was joking about Mickey being a pedophile, right?
They sat for a few more minutes before Lip got up. "I gotta go meet Kev and help him take a closing inventory of the truck. Wanna come?"
Ian shook his head. "Too hot in that truck. I'll meet you at home later."
Lip shrugged and walked away, taking what remained of the joint with him.
Ian stayed in the dugout for a while before making up his mind to head over to the bleachers. As he got closer, he saw Mickey more clearly. He wasn't very tall, but Ian could tell he was built by the way his biceps stretched the sleeves of the gray maintenance uniform he wore. Mickey was very pale and his body was covered with smudges of dirt. He had short, jet black hair and bright blue eyes that Ian could see clearly despite the fact that the guy was squinting from the sun. He was smoking a cigarette and blew the smoke in Ian's direction as the redhead approached him.
Ian sat down on the bleachers a few feet away from Mickey.
"Hi," Ian said. It was all he could think of to say.
Mickey didn't answer.
"I thought your name was Mickey...?"
When Mickey raised an eyebrow at him, Ian pointed to the name tag on his uniform. It said "Raoul" in black script.
"Old uniform," Mickey said, as if that explained everything. Ian expected him to ask how he'd known his name, but he didn't. He just kept casually puffing on his cigarette.
"I'm Ian."
"Good for you."
It was obvious that Mickey didn't want to talk, but Ian couldn't help it—he felt drawn to the guy. He scooted closer to Mickey.
Mickey eyed him apprehensively. "You're a Gallagher, right?"
"Yeah, sort of. I mean, yeah. My last name is Gallagher... but Lip and all of them are my half-siblings. Or cousins? I dunno... my dad is their uncle. Same mom though." Ian was rambling. He didn't know why he was being so honest with Mickey. He didn't usually tell people about his whole freakin' family tree.
Mickey let out a small laugh, and that made Ian smile. "That's pretty fucked up..."
"Yeah, I guess," Ian conceded. "So..." Ian realized he was fidgeting with his glove and put it down on the bench beside him. "You work here?"
"No, I just like to wear this fucking outfit for fun."
Ian grinned. Mickey was joking with him... that had to be a good sign, right?
"When do you finish? Want to go get something to eat?" We can get pizza... my treat."
Ian tried not to blush. He wasn't any good at this. He had never tried picking up a guy before, and he knew he probably sounded like an idiot. The fact that Mickey wasn't answering him wasn't helping calm Ian's nerves. Maybe Ian was completely off base and Mickey wasn't gay... He'd definitely been attracted to Mickey, but just because Lip had called him a fag didn't mean that it was true.
"I finished about an hour ago," Mickey finally answered, breaking the silence.
"Oh? So why are you still here...?" Ian wondered.
"Got nothing better to do... Figured I'd watch the game. Plus, you're pretty good at this. That last one you hit almost went over the fence."
Ian smiled at the compliment, and tried not to blush at the thought of Mickey watching him play. Ian didn't know what else to say. Mickey hadn't said anything about Ian's offer to go eat. "So... pizza?" Ian eventually asked again.
Mickey finished his cigarette and crushed it against the metal bench. He got up, and Ian's heart sank.
"Lead the way," Mickey said.
Ian looked up, surprise obvious in his eyes. A grin spread across his face, stretching from ear to ear. He grabbed his glove and started walking down the bleachers. Mickey followed him.