Part Thirty-Four: Caught

Ian Gallagher is sneaking out to spend the night with me. I tried to clean up the house some, but I took one look at the place and said "fuck it". Yeah, that's going to take an army to clean. I rent stupid Spider-Man for Ian because I promised him we'd watch it.

He should be here anytime. It takes me forever to get Mandy to leave. She keeps wondering whose coming over. I insist I just want to kick back and watch Steven Segal movies in my underwear but she doesn't believe me.

Ian is punctual. I should have anticipated that. Did I brush my teeth? I quickly sniff myself before I open the door. I hesitate. My heart is pounding rapidly, I can almost hear it. Dude, you're losing it. I open the door.

He puts his bag down on the chair and plops down on the couch like he owns the place. I give him beer and put the chicken nuggets in the oven. I can't cook much, but I can make fucking nuggets.

"So, Officer Tony and I had some good sex today," Ian says. I know he's joking. I glare at him. That's not fucking funny. "Come on, Mick. Lighten up. It's only a joke."

"If I catch that blond haired goody-two-shoes talking to you or looking at you longer than a fucking second I'm going to slash his tires then his neck," I tell Ian.

"He's in love with Fiona."

Yeah, right. I want to punch something. I had just gotten over that asshole putting his arm around Ian during lunch today and the little smug fucker has to bring it back up. I grab a knife and stab the counter top. It has a million cuts in it one more couldn't hurt. Ian is mine. I'm going to have to pay Tony a visit.

"Jesus, Mickey."

When the nuggets are done Ian agrees to watch my pick first. He goes on about how much he likes Van Damme. I don't want to hear about fucking Van Damme. He sits about a foot from me on the couch. I take the opportunity to stare at him. When he stares at me I look at the TV.

Halfway through our first movie Ian does something unexpected. He spreads out and leans against me. I am not sure what this is or what I'm supposed to do. He bends his neck to look up at me. I kiss his forehead. When he smiles his dimples show. I kiss him again.

"It's called cuddling, Mickey."

"Pass," I say.

"Come on," says Ian.

"I'm not your snuggle buddy," I tell him. But the damn bastard, like that fucking cat in juvie, snuggles me anyway. I am left with no choice. I put my arm around him. He has his head on my chest. He has his hand between my thighs. "Happy now, Princess?"

"Yes," says Ian.

When my choice is off Ian pulls himself out of my arms. That side of my body is warmer than the rest of me. I check out his ass as he puts in Spider-Man. Ian sits back down and sits with his legs over me and his back against the arm of the couch. He's half on me and half not. I don't know about this. He's so long. How does he bend this way?

"Okay, so James Franco plays Harry Osborne. He's the one I like," says Ian.

"You're such a girl sometimes," I tell him as I rub his leg. I realize I have been doing that since he sat down. He doesn't seem to notice until I stop doing it. Ian leans over and kisses me then settles back in to his spot to watch the movie. "Is there any way we can blow this off and fuck?"

"We'll fuck later. Why is everything about sex?"

I finally know what the Franco fucker looks like that Ian likes. Ian kind of drools a bit over him. I wish I could punch that guy in the face. Instead I stake my claim on Ian by pulling him into me. I kiss his mouth and touch his hair. I lay him back on the couch and take my time. Mine.

"We should watch more James Franco movies," says Ian as we start to get very grabby. I shut off the dumb movie I had no intention of watching anyway. I smack Ian on the ass and nod toward my bedroom.

We haven't done it in an actual bed in a long time. Ian doesn't go slowly nor is he gentle. I like it hard and rough. We do it several times before either of us actually falls asleep. I wake up and Ian isn't in my bed. Panic sets through me. I fumble out of bed. Ian is rummaging through the fridge. I feel better. I thought he might have left or my dad came home.

"You have nothing but beer in here," says Ian.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I was going to make pancakes."

"I have a better idea." I smile at him.

Ian smirks and follows me to the living room. We strip down. I get an idea and share something with him that I haven't before. I bring out my beads. Ian is confused about their purpose.

"You put them in my ass and then pull them out real slow," I explain.

"How is that fun for me?" He turns me over.

"Careful on the cheek," I tell him. It's still sore from when I got shot in the ass.

"I'll go on the other side," Ian says and he prepares to enter me. I relax as he works me from the back, until fear and panic set in. I hear the door of the house open and my heart stops beating. My father has returned.

My dad attacks Ian. My response is automatic. It's as if protecting Ian is hardwired into my brain. I jump on my dad to pull him off Ian. I want to give Ian a chance to escape. He tries but my father pulls a gun on him.

I don't care what he does to me. Don't hurt Ian. I try to grab my father's gun, but he takes it and starts hitting me repeatedly with it. I can see Ian bleeding from where my father hit him. I want to throw up. I'm sorry.

"I'll kill you," my father threatens. He is back at Ian's face again with the gun.

"Don't touch him," I say. Dad hits me with the gun. "No son of mine is going to be an AIDs monkey. No Milkovich is going to take it up the ass. Never. You fucking hear me. Fucking Gallaghers. You're all degenerates."

He gets on the phone with someone asking about a Russian. He's going to have someone kill us? Or worse, he's going to have them kill Ian. Fear sets up camp inside me as we wait. I try not to look at Ian and he certainly doesn't look at me. I don't blame him. I just want him out of this.

But the Russian is a woman; a thin woman with dark hair. My father forces me to fuck her in front of Ian. No. No, I can't. He points his gun at Ian and I have no choice. Ian looks broken. I reach a point where looking at him while fucking this whore is no longer an option. I flip her over so I don't have to see the pain on his face. Forgive me.

When I release inside her my father is unsatisfied but he lets Ian go. He doesn't let him get dressed first. Ian is sent away in nothing but his boxers. I am on the couch. I want to escape, but there is nowhere to go where he can't get me.

"If you ever go near that boy again I'll kill him in front of you. If you ever speak of him, or he ever comes into my house again he's dead. I'm fucking serious, Mickey. You know I'll kill him. I know what prison is like."

"Please," I say. It gets me another whack with the pistol across the face. I hold back the tears that are coming.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You're disgusting," my father says.

I leave. I retreat to my room to lick my wounds. I hold back the tears until I have no strength left to fight them. I let them come. I'm sorry, Ian.