Fiona gave him some time to shower and change his clothes, and by the time Ian made it downstairs, breakfast was on the table. At first glance nothing had changed. There were still the mismatched chairs and piles of dishes by the sink. On the fridge were post-it note reminders of bills that needed to be paid, and errands to be done. But things had changed. The boy at the table was no longer a toddler in a highchair. And at the end of the table sat Fiona's husband drinking a coffee and talking to her about the newspaper. It seemed so intimate, and Ian felt like an intruder in his own home. He knew they meant no harm by it, but he felt out of place and awkward...things in Southside hadn't stopped because he was gone. That idea was certainly going to take some getting used to.
"Hey guys," Ian said clearing his throat.
"Ian!" Liam leapt up from his chair and ran to give his older brother a hug. He had only been five when Ian left, but the child was still eager to show affection towards his brother.
Fiona looked up at him, her eyes bright. "We're so glad you're back in town."
"Good to see you, Ian," Gus said, setting aside his newspaper.
Ian made his way over to the table as Fiona began setting out a plate and some food for him.
"Lip tells us you got a book coming out soon," Fiona said.
Ian nodded. "Yeah."
"My brother a famous author...if he didn't use a pen name," giggled Fiona.
"McBryan, Scottish isn't it?" Gus asked.
"Yeah..what?"
"Anyway everyone's real excited for it to come out," Fiona interrupted. "Course once it does, maybe you'll have more time to come visit your family."
"Fiona," chided Gus softly. "Writers often have to go on tour and do interviews and stuff…" He sounded like they had discussed this already.
"I know. It's just we don't get to see you much," Fiona sighs.
Ian looked over at his sister. "Why didn't you ever come visit. I sent plane tickets for Christmas, and before that for Thanksgiving."
"Ian," Fiona started delicately, "you know it's hard for me to get away from work. We don't have that kind of money to go to New York."
Ian huffed. "I know, but…"
"Ian we would have loved to visit, but what about your other siblings? Surely you couldn't afford to host all of them," Gus said earnestly.
Ian looked down, ashamed. In truth he had sent plane tickets to all his siblings at different times throughout the past five years but none of them had taken him up on his offer. They had valid reasons such as school or work...but still Ian had missed them more than he realized. He missed the home cooked food from Aldi, and the warmth and intimacy of the dining room table. So many memories had been made here. Good and bad.
"Thanks for the food, Fi. There's some errands I need to run," Ian said grabbing his coat.
"You'll be back, right? Unless you're going to go see Mick-"
"I'll be back," he assured her.
Once outside his childhood home Ian felt his head clear a bit. Everything had become so muddled in there. He had almost forgotten why he had left in the first place. The memories of that table were strong. Like when he first introduced Mickey as his boyfriend...and then fiance. All those announcements had been made in the presence of that table surrounded by all the people he loved. It was like ghost were haunting him. The sooner he got his divorce, the sooner he would be able to leave Chicago and get back to New York, back to Linus.
Ian shook his head and started walking to the bank. His car was still at Mickey's. It didn't take long for him to get there and when he did he was in for a nasty surprise. The ATM that had been out there long as he could remember was gone. He entered the bank and filled out a withdrawal slip before going to wait in line. When it was his turn to go speak to the teller he asked, "What happened to the ATM?"
"You haven't heard? Thought everybody knew," the woman said excitedly.
"Been away for awhile," Ian confessed.
"We had to get rid of it. One of those Milkovich boys found a way to hack it so that it would dispense money at the drop of a hat," she continued excitedly.
"Mickey...?" sighed Ian, almost afraid of the answer.
The girl giggled nervously. "Oh no. Mr. Milkovich is one of our loyal customers. It was his brother Tony."
Ian just nodded handing over his slip.
"Are you sure you don't want to make the withdrawal from your joint account, Mr. Gallagher?" she asked.
"What?"
"Your joint account...with Mr. Milkovich?" she asked looking up from her computer screen.
Ian let the words fall into place, a smile on his lips. "That would be great."
Ian found himself busy the rest of the day. By noon he was returning to the Milkovich home and was unsurprised to find it empty. He assumed that Mick was at a bar, or scamming people...and honestly he didn't care. The privacy would give him time to get the job done. He began by throwing out all the empty beer bottles as well as the layer of filth that covered the floor. By three the first of the deliveries arrived, a new couch and armchair for the living room and later came the new bed with its mattress for upstairs. There were sheets and dishes that needed to find new homes as Ian threw the old junk into the yard, sure that someone would pick it up at some point. The house was completely refurnished, the kitchen was freshly stocked and everything had its place.
Oddly enough, during the cleaning process, Ian hadn't found Mickey's stash of illegal guns and firearms. Nor had he found any large stashes of drugs, just a few empty cigarette cartons and a joint or two. He brushed his curiosity away, reasoning that surely the Milkoviches had just found a better place to secure their illegal possessions.
Finally a little after five Ian heard the door open, and he knew that his husband was home.
"The fuck is all my shit doing outside," Mickey's voice could be heard from the hall, and then he stepped into his new living room.
"Hey Mick," Ian said brightly. "How's everyone doing?"
"The fuck is wrong with you, Gallagher? Are you off your meds again?" Mickey asked, watching as Ian puttered about the kitchen.
"I'm stable, thank you very much. I haven't been off my meds in five years, and I don't plan on going off them any time soon," Ian said curtly.
"So again. Why is all my stuff in yard? What's this junk doing here?" Mickey asked, losing patience quickly.
"Now, Mick, what kind of spouse would I be if I didn't take care of our home while you're out selling drugs and the like," Ian said cocking his head and falsely pouting.
Mickey opened his mouth, closed it, and stomped away only to come back. "You don't live here anymore. Now get me the spare key, and get out!"
Ian rolled his eyes. "I just got back."
Mickey brushed past him to open up the fridge. Inside of it were all kinds of fancy organic products that Mickey could barely recognize let alone name. "What is this, queer food?"
"Mickey, might I remind you that you too are gay," Ian sighed.
"What the hell is this!?" Mickey savagely pulled out a silver can from the pile.
"Light beer. Less calories," Ian sighed. "If you aren't careful Mick, you'll get a beer gut which will make it harder for you to run away from the cops...and we wouldn't want that."
"You go right ahead and spend your money on this crap," Mickey said, ignoring the comment about running from the cops. He didn't do that anymore.
"Nice try, Mick. It's our money," Ian said pretending to be innocent. "After all you were the one who suggested we get a joint checking account."
Mickey choked on his drink. He coughed before asking hoarsely, "how much did you take?"
"All of it."
"Jesus! Ian are you sure you aren't on your meds, cause you're acting pretty crazy to me!" Mickey screamed.
"How dare you?" growled Ian. He knew they were both thinking about that time not so long ago when he had stolen luggage from the airport or when he had done porn for cash just to blow it all the next day. "I've been careful, Mickey. I'm not that boy anymore, and that you would think I am makes me sick. Another reason we should get a divorce. Sign the papers, and I'll return the money and the furniture. Then you can keep living your shitty ghetto life."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Give me the pen," Mickey said hands outstretched.
"Hold on. What are you doing with all the cash? And in the bank too?" Ian asked eyes narrowing. "Even when you were a dealing you never had that kind of cash. Hell when you were a pimp you were never that load. What have you been doing, Mickey?"
"I'm not asking you about your fancy queer, New Yorker boyfriend or your life there, so what makes you think you can ask me about mine?" Mickey asked.
Ian's heart stopped. It felt as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. "Who told you?"
"Just cause I never finished high school doesn't make me an idiot," Mickey said, grabbing the papers from Ian's hand.
"Mickey, let me explain-"
"Nobody finds their soulmate when their ten years old," scoffed Mickey. "Not in this neighborhood."
"Yeah," Ian swallowed uncomfortably.
"I mean where's the fun in that?" Mickey said raising one of his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips. And suddenly Ian was reminded of everything good between them. Because for a time, things had been really good.
And suddenly the smirk became a grin. "Just remembered, I got myself a hot date. I'll deal with these tomorrow. Maybe send them over to my lawyer so he can look at them."
"What?"
"Sure you understand. Nothing but ghetto trash...there are words in that document I can even pronounce, besides I'd hate to keep him waiting." Mickey said flicking his tonuge across his lips. It was a gesture that Ian was very familiar with, and once it had even managed to spark lust for the other man in the pits of his stomach. But watching it now, knowing that Mickey was going out with someone else made Ian feel confused. So much must have changed if Mickey was going on a date, here in Southside. The boy who was afraid to kiss Ian in public, or private, because word might get back to his homophobic father was now openly gay and going out on a proper date. Something he and Ian had rarely done. God, Ian needed a drink. And so he went to the only bar he loved.
On his way he received a call from Linus.
"Hey babe," Ian murmured huskily.
Linus chuckled, "do you really miss me that much?"
"God, yes. Dealing with these people is a nightmare," Ian whined a bit into the phone.
"I'm sorry, Ian. Hurry home so we can spend some time together," Linus said.
Ian grinned. "So why did you call?"
"Wanted to hear your voice."
"Anything else?" Ian asked.
Linus laughed again. "God, I am not fucking you through the phone, Ian. Come home and then we'll talk."
"Just talk?"
Linus sighed. "No. You know what I mean. I'll see you soon."
Ian smiled. "I needed this. Thanks, babe."
In the five years he had been away, The Alibi Room was a little worse for wear, although nothing had changed. Ian found comfort in the thought as he entered the room. The regulars were seated at their respective tables or stools, including his father, Frank Gallagher.
"The prodigal son returns!" Frank cheered, raising his glass.
Ian rolled his eyes. "Hi Kev. How's Vee doing?"
The bartender smiled broadly. "She's doing great! So are the twins, Amy and Gemma."
Ian wanted to smack himself in the head. Of course the twins! They had only been one when he left, and although he had watched them a few times he hadn't really gotten to spend much time with them.
"So Ian, successful fruit of my loins," Frank began his speech.
"Uh he's not actually your son," Kev interrupted.
"Well I raised him, didn't I!? Provided a roof over his head," slurred the old man, "claimed him as my own even when-"
"Frank, I'm not giving you money," Ian said.
"Bullshit. I wasn't going to ask for money," protested Frank.
"Really?"
"Course not," swore his father. "I just wanted to declare that my favorite son is home. He's a writer with his first novel coming out. Big success this one."
Ian frowned.
"What can I get you," Kev asked wiping down a glass.
"Long Island iced tea," Ian said distractedly. He had spotted Mickey entering the bar with another man, and he needed to get drunk fast.
"Oh my god. IAN?!"
Ian turned just in time to see a girl with long dark hair come running at him. She pulled him into a tight hug, before releasing him and punching him in the arm. "You didn't tell me you were back, asshole!"
"Mandy? I thought you left for..." Ian thought back all those years to when Mandy had been a scared teenager who left home with an abusive boyfriend. "When did you get back?!"
"Been back for years, dummy. You would know that if you had kept in touch," there's a sad look in her eyes.
"And your boyfriend?"
"Left him for the piece of shit he was." Mandy said. "I can't believe you're here. God, you look good, Ian."
"You too, I like seeing that you're hair is back to it's natural color," Ian confessed.
Mandy laughed. "Now that I don't have a man telling me he prefers to fuck blondes, I felt like going back."
"Who's that guy Mickey is with?" Ian asked gesturing to where the two of them were standing by the pool table.
Mandy shrugged. "Don't know. Don't think it's serious. Hey Ian, where you going-"
Ian, drink in hand, was going over to find out. "Mind if I join you two?"
"Actually, Firecrotch-"
"You mean the carpet matches the drapes?" Mickey's date had hipster glasses, and hair a little too slick for Ian's liking.
"What? Yeah." Mickey was confused that he was interupted with such a stupid question that he forgot his retort that he had been planning to say.
The man whistled appreciatively. "Names Malcolm, and you are?"
"Hi I'm Ian, Mickey's husband whom he refuses to divorce even though I'm engaged to someone else," Ian said in a falsely cheery voice.
Malcolm merely looked Ian from head to toe before saying, "can't blame him, honey. If I had something as delicious as you I would want to hold on for as long as I could."
"Why don't you get us some fucking drinks." Mickey said holding cash out. "Now, shit head."
Malcolm just raised both hands in surrender before shimmying between them, making extra sure to brush up against Ian.
"Talk that way to all your dates?"
"Him?" Mickey asked. "Just someone I slept with and he won't leave me alone. Claims he likes the rough type. What fucking ever."
Ian huffed. "Why do you make me be mean to you? To be humiliated in front of all your friends?"
"C'mon Ian. We were your friends too," Kev says in passing. Ian felt like a deer in the headlights, but before more could be said he heard his name being cried out.
"Ian!?"
"Tony?" Ian was shocked, this was the idiot who hacked the ATM? "If it isn't the best man of the apocalypse."
"And what are you trying to imply," laughed the older Milkovich.
"I think you know," Ian said dryly.
"Just get a stick and play," Mickey said. "And if you can't find one just pull the one stuck up his ass."
Ian's jaw dropped as he glared at Mickey. "And what if I wanted to play?" he purred after regaining his composure. "Do you boys think you could handle that?"
Mickey's jaw tightened a bit, as did his grip on the pool stick. "Fine, but don't expect us to go easy on you."
Ian rolled his eyes, "why should I expect that? I never went easy on you when we were together."
From around the circle came a collective 'oooooh'.
"Shots for everyone!" cried Ian looking to Kev, as everyone in the bar cheered.
The game continued as Ian and Mandy played against Mickey and Tony. It wasn't long before Ian was very drunk, since he had ordered multiple shots.
"Don't you fucking miss this, Mands, okay?" slurred Ian before bursting into giggles.
Mandy rolled her eyes. "It would seem you can take the boy out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of the boy."
"So, Mick, you gonna divorce this redhead or what?" Tony asked.
"He's waited five years. Another few nights won't kill him, unfortunately."
"Not like it's gonna make a difference," Ian snapped.
"You never know," started Kev, who had come over to watch the game. "You might be surprised to learn-"
"Stop, Kev. Let him think what he likes," Mickey said. "He made up his mind a long time ago. And if there's one thing I know, Gallaghers are as fucking stubborn as a mule when they've made up their mind."
"Some things never change. For instance Mickey here is a Southside thug, born and raised," Ian said. "Nothing could ever change that."
The room grew tense at that, people looking back and forth between the pair, unsure what to say.
"Or Tony, stupid as the day is long, manages to hack an ATM," laughs Ian. "Course Milkovichs always do whatever the fuck they like. Or who. Isn't that right Mands?"
Mandy frowned. "I think you should stop, Ian."
"Why? Everyone here knows everything about each other. Bet you didn't know that Mickey is such a bossy, needy bottom-"
Mickey's eyes flashed. "That's enough, Ian. You're drunk."
"Kev!" Ian cheered, as if noticing the man for the first time. "How about another round of drinks for me and my friends."
"Mickey's right. I'm cutting you off, Ian." Kev said heavily.
"Ya know what? You're right, Kev. I mean how do you people live like this? Did you know that there's a great big worl' just outs-"
Mickey sighed. "That's enough, Ian. C'mon, I'm taking you home."
Mickey grabbed Ian's bicep and began to pull him away and outside. "Jesus, do you realize how much like Frank you sounded back there?"
Ian stumbled a bit over his own feet.
"Even fucking Christ knows we don't need another Frank. Shit Ian. You can't just go around acting like you're better than everyone else-"
"I am better." Ian interrupted. "I got out. After I failed high school, failed the Army after all that I got a new dream, Mickey. One that took me far away from this shit hole, and yeah I am better."
"They're your friends and family, Ian. You don't treat family that way. You really think you're so much better than Fiona? Or Debbie? Or Lip?" Mickey asked tightening his grip on Ian's arm.
"I'm better than you."
Mickey froze.
"I'm better than Frank, and Tony and even Mandy. And I'm better than you. I got out, Mickey. I got out."
Mickey sighed. "Get in my car. You're too drunk to drive like this."
"Guess the dates over, huh, tough guy," Malcolm sighed coming over to Mickey.
"Follow us back. He's gonna be pissed tomorrow if his car isn't home." And at that moment Ian decided to puke in Mickey's car.
Once they arrived at Fiona's, Mickey carried Ian up to his childhood bedroom. Not much had changed since all those years ago when Mickey spent time sleeping beside Ian on that narrow bed as he tried to recover from episode after episode of depression and mania. It hadn't been so long ago that Mickey would have stayed the night, arms curled protectively around Ian's chest as he slept...maybe things had changed. Too much.
For a few minutes Mickey watched Ian sleep, making sure that he wasn't about to choke. Then he got up, leaving behind him the divorce papers, his name signed clearly on the lines.
Omigod! I'm so sorry it took this long to upload. I was at a conference for 10 days, and had no time and when I got back I was swamped. It's extra long as an apology. Speaking of which, if there are any typos I'm sorry, but I wrote this at 2 AM so what can I say. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I hope they aren't too OOC as I am trying to fit it in with the movie's plot. Also Noel at the table read? Jesus. So yeah hope this cheers y'all up. Thanks for the support. Loads of love ~T.W.o.W.