Done To Death

A selection of one shots; each an Ian/Mickey cliché

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Mickey Gets Sick

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Milkovich is a good name for Mickey, whose pale skin is a milky white next to his dark hair.

But he has never looked as pale as he does now, stretched out on his bed, his breathing shallow and his veins shining through his skin.

Ian stands in the doorway to Mickey's room and takes in the sight of the boy on the bed, something akin to a smirk forming on his lips. He thinks he has never seen Mickey look this vulnerable.

When he had first come to the front door he had been unsure just what excuse to give to get inside, but has the decision stolen away from him when Mandy comes running out of the house and barricades into him.

"Move, move!" She yells, dragging him back down the steps with her.

"What's happened?" He asks as he reaches the pavement, arms on Mandy's shoulders.

"Just trust me when I say it is not safe in there."

Ian lights a cigarette for her, "Mandy, you're worrying me." He checks her over for fresh bruises or wounds but is satisfied that he can't see any.

"Mickey's sick," Mandy explains, relaxing into the pull of the nicotine. Relief that it is not something of Terry's doing, Ian throws his head back and laughs. Mandy just sneers at him.

"Well go on in if you think it's so funny – Mickey's a real bitch when he's sick."

"Yeah?" Ian tries to supress the grin crawling up his face. "Linda asked me to check on him," He suddenly adds, surprised he hadn't thought of the excuse before, "She kinda regards him as a pit-bull or something."

"Yeah, well it's your funeral," Mandy mutters, pulling away from him and strutting down the street in her heels.

Certain she's not about to turn around and come back to question his true intentions, Ian runs the steps back up to the house and slides in through the door.

It is eerily quiet inside and for a second Ian wants to savour it – it is not a sound that usually frequents the Gallagher house – but then the smell of weed, stale beer and vomit attack his nose and he can't get out of the room fast enough.

Which is when he ignores the instruction to 'STAY THE FUCK OUT' and walks in on Mickey anyway.

He stands for a couple of minutes, watching Mickey's back rise and fall, and wishes he could climb in with him – though Ian is pretty certain he would lose a limb if he tried. They haven't been fucking that long, not counting the stint in juvie, and Ian has quickly learnt the rules when it comes to Mickey.

He is just about to turn and leave (all body-parts still intact) when Mickey groans in his sleep and the sound he makes sounds suspiciously like the word 'Firecrotch'.

And then all rational thought is ripped from Ian as the grin he has been trying to supress takes over his face completely. He drops his jacket to the floor and steps closer to the bed.

Ian can feel the heat radiating off Mickey even from this distance, and for a fleeting moment he hopes he won't catch anything, but then Mickey moves again and Ian can't help but sit on the edge of the bed.

Feeling a dip in the mattress, Mickey goes to mutter 'fuck off' when he feels the hand at the base of his spine – soft and cool to the touch.

And that's when he really needs to tell them to fuck off, because there's only one person in the world who makes Mickey's skin react like that, even if he is loath to admit it.

But maybe he has just dreamt Ian being there, for the dip in the mattress lifts and Mickey figures if he is having hallucinations can't Gallagher be fucking him rather than all this gay shit? Then a cold flannel is swept across his shoulder blades and the dip in the mattress returns and Mickey figures he's too sick for sex anyway.

Which isn't fucking fair if you ask him.

"Fuck off," He manages.

"Nope," Ian grins, moving the cloth up and down Mickey's sides and across his pale arms. Mickey must ache too much to move him because he stops objecting and instead curls further into his pillow.

How long he lays like that he is unsure, but he is aware of the spell being broken when Ian moves away from him and tells him he has to leave.

And Mickey really wants to tell Ian to keep doing that flannel thing, or drop more of those kisses along his spine that Mickey pretended he hadn't noticed.

But he says nothing. No force in the world would ever make Mickey ask Ian to stay.