Ian watched Mickey walk away and he didn't understand. Sure, Mickey was the type to walk away when situations weren't to his liking, but not quite like that. He'd walk away after punching someone in the face or after dropping a snide comment. This felt almost as though he was giving up.

Ian had been watching Mickey all night, he didn't want to admit that, but it was true. He seemed different. He didn't know quite what it was. Mickey seemed calmer. He smiled at things, smiled when he was walking Mandy down the aisle, when she was saying her vows and he was laughing even while he was bright red when she made him dance. He kept expecting Mickey to storm off the dance floor, to hit something, but he just looked embarrassed and yet determined to dance with his sister.

He seemed more like the Mickey that Ian expected to see when him and Mandy were doing shots, knocking them back like it was juice rather than vodka. And the way that he had been sitting on the sidelines, just talking to Kev and nursing a beer, that had been Mickey-like too. But then he'd baffled Ian again by not throwing Lip off when his brother drunkenly lounged on Mickey. No, instead of throwing him off Mickey had handed him a pretty disgusting looking drink and he hadn't laughed when Lip had thrown up, he'd looked sort of grossed out and sort of concerned.

That had been what had made Ian go over, because it had confused the ever-loving hell out of him to see Mickey acting like a normal person. It made him a little bit sad, because he'd kind of liked the erratic side of Mickey. And it pissed him off because it seemed like Mickey could be civil to everyone other than Ian.

He'd gone over to see Mickey the first time that he'd gotten leave and Mickey had looked at him like he didn't even know him. Mickey was good at pretending, he'd always known that, but he'd thought maybe now that Mandy knew he was gay, it wouldn't be so hard for Mickey to admit that they had a thing going on. Or at the very least that they'd fucked. But no, apparently, for Mickey Milkovich, that was too much to ask.

He couldn't even lie about how much that had hurt. He'd spent his entire deployment panicking and worrying about Mickey and then it turned out that Mickey didn't even give two shits about him anymore. He supposed he should have seen that coming. He'd just been tricking himself into thinking that Mickey felt anything; at least he'd finally realised that.

And he had Toby now anyway, even if the guy did sort of annoy him sometimes. He was sweet though and he wasn't afraid to admit that he wanted Ian. So that was fine. Even if Mickey always had been a better fuck.

"Good job," Lip said, glaring at him and Ian blanched.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, "You're not honestly expecting me to believe that he actually worked an honest job to help Mandy buy that dress. I hardly even believe he helped at all."

Even though maybe that was a little harsh. If Ian knew one thing for sure, it was that Mickey cared about Mandy. Nobody else could probably say the same thing.

Lip shook his head at him, looking incredulous and a little disgusted, which Ian wasn't used to. "Just forget everything you ever knew about him," Lip said, seeming even more sober than he had before; and even more angry that Ian had seen him in a long time, "He worked his ass off at the construction site, painted some old lady's living room and cleaned out a man down the road's gutters to pay for that dress and all because he didn't want Mandy to have to return it tomorrow."

Even though Ian was taller than his brother, Lip seemed to tower over him when he stood up. "He's been through a lot, Ian and he doesn't need you making the situation worse for him," Lip said and his eyes were practically on fire, "He doesn't know who the hell he's supposed to be, who he even wants to be and so he's trying to be everything all at once to make everyone else happy and do you have any fucking idea how much that stresses him out."

Ian opened his mouth to say that in fact, Mickey seemed more relaxed that he had ever seen him – except after they'd fucked, but Ian didn't want to think about that – but Lip was already walking off.

He walked over to Mandy and spoke to her for a second and Ian actually flinched under the weight of Mandy's death glare. Lip caught her around the waist when she moved to come over to him and Ian was sort of glad about that. He hated dealing with Mandy when she was pissed off at other people, which meant he knew he would like it even less when she was pissed at him.

Especially when he didn't really know what the hell for.

Mickey was a big boy, he was a Milkovich, he could handle a little criticism.

He didn't say anything to anyone when he left, he just walked out, because he couldn't deal with the accusing way that his two best friends were looking at him, one of them his own brother. He couldn't deal with the fact that he thought maybe he should be feeling guilty, because that didn't make sense. Mickey hadn't even had the courtesy to say anything to him, he'd just pretended like they'd never been anything. So why the hell should Ian feel bad about upsetting him a little?

As far as he was concerned Mickey deserved it.

After everything he'd ever said, after everything he'd ever not done to make all the sneaking around and the lying worth it, Mickey deserved it.

He didn't know why he went to the baseball field where he and Mickey had used to get high before fucking in the dugouts, but he did. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all, maybe it was because he hadn't really been focussing on where the hell he was walking to. Maybe it was fate if he believed in that sort of thing. He didn't know. All he knew was that he sort of regretted it when he saw that he wasn't the only one who'd decided to go there.

Mickey was sitting cross-legged on second base, a cigarette trapped between two of his fingers, but he didn't really seem to be smoking it. Ian only saw him take one drag before it burnt out and he flicked it away. He stood behind him, just watching him and maybe that was creepy, but he couldn't help it.

He'd never seen Mickey like that before. He looked weirdly calm, but stressed out like Lip had said all at the same time. He kept scrubbing his hands through his hair and Ian half expected him to tear it out or something. He thought maybe that action had replaced the ones he did with his mouth, pushing his tongue into the corner and rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip. Ian didn't know why that thought sort of upset him, maybe it was because he'd always liked those little habits of Mickey's.

When Mickey started humming softly under his breath, Ian was surprised, because he'd never heard Mickey sing before. He remember Mickey always telling him to stop singing, but had always got the impression that the ex-con didn't mean it. He'd never thought of Mickey as actually being able to carry a tune, but him sitting there, the humming turning to singing under his breath. Ian didn't know the song, but it was about remembering as far as he could tell. It wouldn't have mattered what he was singing, just hearing Mickey's voice made him shiver.

He walked over to Mickey then for some reason and sat beside him and he could feel the older guy tense up in response to him being there. "I can go if you like," Ian offered, thinking it was only fair since Mickey had been their first.

"No, it's fine," Mickey muttered back, not looking at him and Ian sort of wished he would.

And Ian was used to be the one that always had to speak, so that was why he said, "I'm sorry about before." It was to break the silence, it wasn't because he was maybe feeling slightly guilty now for absolutely no reason at all. He put it down to Mickey acting distinctly un-Mickey. He kept waiting for the ex-con to snap out of it and tell him to fuck off.

"You don't have to apologise for anything," Mickey said after a minute and he sounded strange, "I get it."

Ian didn't completely understand why there was a sense of finality in that statement, but it was there nevertheless. "Lip says you have a job at the construction company," he said because he couldn't think of anything else to say, "That's good."

"It pays the bills," Mickey said, still not looking at him.

"If you don't like it, you could go to community college and get some qualifications or something," Ian suggested, even though he didn't really know why, they'd had this conversation before, "You could get something better then."

He shifted uncomfortably for a minute before he admitted, "I actually already did that, but the construction company pays well and I don't really want to risk it trying to switch jobs." He shrugged, seeming to need to move rather than needing the shrug to insinuate anything in particular.

Ian just stared at him, "You went to community college?"

"Yeah," Mickey said, his tone slightly clipped, obviously not liking the surprise he heard in Ian's voice. But he couldn't help it, he was used to the Mickey who wouldn't have been caught dead going to school when he didn't have to. "Mandy went as well, did this hair and beauty thing."

Ian didn't know why Mickey was telling him that. He normally wasn't one to give additional information. But Ian got the impression that maybe he was just proud of Mandy for that. Or maybe he just needed to talk. He supposed probably the latter.

"That's great," he said, sort of numbly.

Mickey snorted, "You weren't the one she decided to practice on." He turned his had slightly and pointed to the black stud in his left earlobe that Ian hadn't noticed before. He didn't know how the hell he hadn't noticed it, maybe because he was always a little busy trying not to get a hard on around Mickey.

The ex-con turned away quickly again and Ian wondered what he'd seen in his face.

Mickey lit up another cigarette and took a deep drag, letting his hands hang down in between his legs, his knuckles brushing the ground. Ian didn't know why, but he felt like he wanted to reach out and touch Mickey. Like maybe Mickey needed some sort of comfort. Or maybe he did. He didn't know anymore.

"You heard from your Dad at all?" Ian asked, trying to drag a reaction out of Mickey, because he knew how to deal with a pissed off Mickey. He almost needed to see it, to see Mickey treat him like he used to. Because when Mickey got angry, he actually seemed to acknowledge Ian more than he ever normally did. Definitely more than he acknowledged him now.

Mickey didn't get angry though, he hardly even reacted. Although he maybe did look a little surprised. "No," he replied after a minute, his voice dead-sounding.

"I kind of expected you to take off," Ian admitted when it was obvious Mickey wasn't going to say anything else, "Thought you'd be scared of someone else finding out and just running." He'd honestly thought he'd come back and find out that Mickey had disappeared, or that he'd get a letter from Mandy saying that he'd bolted.

"I wouldn't leave Mandy," Mickey said and there was a seriousness in his voice that Ian had never heard before. Mickey was only ever serious when he was scared, but he didn't seem scared now. He just seemed stressed, like something was eating him up inside.

"Glad there's someone you'd stick around for then," he said before he could stop himself. The words just seemed to trip off of his tongue before he could stop them. He thought maybe it was the old sourness bubbling up, the sourness that stemmed from Mickey bolting and running off to juvie at the first sign of trouble. He'd never quite gotten over that, even though he'd let Mickey carry on as though nothing had happened.

There was a long silence and Ian considered leaving. He even stood up, but that was when Mickey spoke. "He loved you, you know," he said and his voice was sort of dead-sounding again, but nervous as well, panicked. Yet still dead. It didn't quite make sense. "Even when he pushed you away, he still loved you."

And Ian thought that had to be hands down the weirdest thing that Mickey had ever said to him.

"What?" he asked, staring down at Mickey who still wouldn't look at him. He was chewing his bottom lip though, hard enough to draw blood. "Mickey, that made no sense, whatsoever."

And yet some small part of him thought that maybe Mickey had just told him that he loved him. Or maybe that he had. He didn't even know. He wondered if Mickey knew, or maybe he was just saying words without really thinking

Mickey laughed, but the sound was hollow. "Yeah I guess it didn't did it?" he muttered, staring off into the night with a small frown on his face. "Did you know I think I'm jealous of him sometimes," he said after a minute, when Ian was planning on just walking away again because he thought maybe Mickey was on something, "Sure, nobody liked him and he was a dick, but he had you."

He snorted.

"And then I think that actually I sort of hate him, because he was too much of a coward to open his mouth and tell you that he didn't just think you were some quick fuck. He didn't have the courage to tell you that you were everything," Mickey's voice was bitter-sounding. Ian thought he looked like he was about to be sick. "I keep thinking that if I could go back in time, I'd make it all change, I'd make him say those words that he always thought, but then I think that maybe that wouldn't be a good idea, because then he would still be a dick and I wouldn't be here at all."

Ian frowned, still not knowing what the hell he was on about. He was talking like he was two separate people, except there wasn't. There was just him and it didn't make any sense.

"I know you probably hate me and everything and I don't even know why I'm saying this," he carried on, scrubbing a hand through his hair again, "Maybe it's because I don't want you to hate me, because I'm not him, but I feel like him and I remember what it feels like to be in love with you and I probably still am a little bit, but more than that I don't like the idea of you believing what he said about you being nothing but a warm mouth."

And that was a sensitive subject, those words, Ian hated them. He hated that memory, the anger he'd heard in Mickey's voice. Sure, a part of him wanted to talk to Mickey about that. Wanted to sort all of that out. And Mickey had definitely admitted to being in love that time, he'd definitely said I love you, but Ian couldn't cope with that. He knew from the way Mickey was talking about himself like he was two different people that he was on something. Maybe he'd been on something for the entire wedding, probably.

Either way, Ian didn't want to have to deal with Mickey when he came down from his high or whatever the fuck he was experiencing right now.

"Mick, I don't know what you're on," Ian said and Mickey still didn't look at him, like he was afraid to, "But just go home okay, you're not making any sense." And then he just walked away, because he could deal with war and killing and God knows what else, anything else, but he didn't think he could deal with Mickey Milkovich's weird moods anymore.

He couldn't deal with the way it made his heart hurt in his chest. He just couldn't.

In case anyone cares, the song Mickey was humming/singing halfway through was Joshua Radin – Winter. Or at least that's what I intended it to be. I was listening to that at the time.