Chapter 5
Ian was caught once again between a nightmare and consciousness the next morning, when a muffled sound and a mumble woke him. He pushed away the last vestiges of his bad dream – to push his hands away, to push him away – and found himself slightly less disoriented than the previous morning, because he immediately recognized the room. His eyes fell on Mickey, retrieving some keys from the carpeted floor where he had obviously dropped them accidentally.
Sitting up, face scrunched up against the bright glow coming from the window, he glanced at Mickey in dismay. "Where the hell are you going so early? You're not leaving me to have breakfast alone with your mother again."
Mickey startled, not having noticed that Ian was awake. He was fully dressed in nice thigh-hugging jeans and a maroon cardigan that looked great with his skin tone. Ian approved, even half asleep as he was. "Oh hey. Good morning. I wasn't sure if you'd like to come with me and you looked so tired, even in your sleep, so I thought…" He cut off his babbling at Ian's continuing glare. "I have to meet my brother at the airport."
"I'm coming with you," Ian muttered, kicking the blankets off.
Mickey looked annoyed, even though he tried to hide it. "You don't have to come with me…"
"I repeat, you're not leaving me alone with your mother again," Ian dropped his bag onto the bed to look for some clothes to wear.
"I can drop you off at a coffee shop or something," Mickey sounded a little desperate. Ian looked up at him with an arched eyebrow, wondering what his problem was. "I'm sort of really looking forward to seeing my brother. It's been a while."
"Well, you can see him with me by your side," Ian replied stubbornly. "You brought me here for a reason, Mickey. I'm not here to entertain your mother while you go out with your brother. I'm here as your goddamnboyfriend."
Mickey crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Ian in silence for a little while. "Well, someone's extremely bitchy this morning."
Ian grabbed his clothes with a vice grip. "Do not test me, Milkovich."
Without another word, Ian marched into the bathroom to get ready and Mickey let himself fall onto the couch, resigned to wait for Ian.
When they arrived at the airport, Mickey was relieved that Iggy's flight was delayed, because Ian had taken forever to get dressed. However, he couldn't help but groan in frustration, since this also meant that he was stuck killing time with Ian.
And there was nothing worse than trying to kill time with someone who refused to speak to you.
Ian completely ignored him, looking at shop windows and at the constant flow of people coming and going, while Mickey trailed behind him helplessly, until he suggested grabbing some late breakfast at one of the cafés. Ian shrugged his agreement and that's how they found themselves sitting at a table so tiny that their legs bumped under it.
Mickey picked listlessly at his bagel. He was divided between excitement about seeing his brother soon and the uncomfortable awkwardness of being around Ian. He supposed he would never understand the other man, never learn how to approach him without setting him off. Just a few more days and Ian and he would part ways, and Mickey would try for the rest of his life to forget that he had been pathetic enough to ever do this.
Ian sipped his coffee with his usual detached air, as if nothing happening around him was worthy of his interest. Mickey hated when Ian did that - it made him feel terribly insignificant. He couldn't grasp why Ian acted like that, but it was one more thing about him to add to the list of what he would never, ever understand.
"Is there anything I should know about your brother?" Ian asked once his coffee was gone, apparently bored enough to speak to him again. "You know, besides the whole acting thing."
Mickey took a bite of his bagel, thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so. I'm sure he'll tell you everything you need to know himself. Iggy loves talking about himself," he said, a trace of fondness in his voice, with perhaps just a tad of underlying irritation.
Ian nodded. "What about a date? Is he bringing one? Is he married? Please tell me he doesn't have kids, because adding kids to this disaster would just add another level to my personal hell."
Mickey rolled his eyes. He couldn't understand people who didn't like kids. Children represented all the good in the world. There was nothing more comforting and beautiful than seeing a smile in a kid's face. "Nope. No wife or kids. And I don't know about the date. Iggy is never serious when it comes to relationships. He likes his freedom and he likes to keep his options open. Or so he says," Mickey added with a little shrug.
That was just one of the many things that made the Milkovich brothers so different from each other. Iggy claimed to be a free spirit who couldn't be tamed, who would never settle with just one woman when there were so many others still out there. Mickey was sure his brother would be an amazing father - if he wasn't so terrified of compromise and commitment.
"Good," Ian relaxed and sat back in his chair. Then he frowned, studying Mickey with curiosity. "So... if it's okay for your brother to show up without a date, why isn't it okay for you?"
Mickey stopped pretending to eat his bagel. He pushed it away, and tried to explain. "My parents have accepted that Iggy isn't going to get married any time soon, or ever even have a real relationship. That's how he insists he wants it. But that's not me. I like being in a relationship and I love the idea of being married to one man for the rest of my life. Even if none of my ex-boyfriends seemed to be interested enough to stick around and give it a shot." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but he couldn't help it. It stung, being alone again, being rejected and unloved. "They've asked to meet my boyfriend a million times, but… Ian never had time because of school and his job, so we never managed to come here and do the whole meet-the-parents thing. This anniversary party was the perfect opportunity to introduce him, but he must have already known he was leaving, when he said he'd go. They were so excited that I was bringing Ian, so I couldn't show up without him, without explaining that he dumped me. I just can't face what would happen at that party if they knew, constantly pitying me and comforting me, when all I want to do is to get over him so it stops hurting..."
Ian was watching him intently, so with Mickey's last words still hanging in the air, he leaned over the table. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He asked him incredulously.
Mickey's eyes widened in surprise.
"You make all of this sound so goddamn tragic, as if not being able to bring your boyfriend home to meet your parents is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. Why don't you grow the fuck up?"
"I..." Mickey mumbled, shocked. He definitely hadn't been expecting that. But before he could react, Ian pushed his chair back and stood up, looking like this was more than he could handle. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," Ian answered in a sharp tone and was out of the café in three long strides.
Mickey sat there dumbfounded, not exactly sure what had just happened.
When Ian returned, they both had apparently decided not to say another word about the subject. Iggy's flight had landed while Ian was in the bathroom, so they stood next to each other at the gate waiting for him to emerge, silent and tense. Mickey wondered if he should avoid going to coffee places with Ian, because it seemed like they always ended up clashing and arguing.
Iggy saw Mickey before Mickey saw him. He stood in the middle of the sea of people, smiled his award-winning smile (Iggy's words, not Mickey's) and opened his arms. "Little brother!"
Mickey snorted at Iggy's constant need to make a spectacle out of everything, always looking for attention, as he pushed through the crowd to get to him. Iggy hugged him tightly as soon as they were within reach, Mickey's nose buried in his brother's shoulder. He crossed his fingers, hoping he would resist making height jokes.
"Hi B," Iggy muttered as he squeezed him.
"Hi, Coop. It's nice to see you."
"Same, little brother, same." Iggy pulled away enough to take a good look at him. "How are you? You look a little stressed."
Mickey was amazed by his brother's ability to sense when something was wrong and hoped he could hide the guilt eating at him. "I'm good, don't worry. I had a rough week at work, but the break's going to help."
"Don't let the little bastards make you old before your time, Mickey," Iggy said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He looked around the airport. "Well. I was hoping for a better welcome, to be honest. No paparazzi? No screaming fans? What the hell is this?"
"The show hasn't even aired yet, Coop. Maybe next time you come to Ohio there will be paps," Mickey laughed at his brother's crestfallen look. But Iggy's face lit up just a few seconds after that.
"Oh! You must be the boyfriend! Hi!"
Mickey had completely forgotten about Ian, focusing on how good it was to see his brother. He felt his stomach sinking as he turned to make the proper introductions, but Iggy didn't give him the time.
"Ian, right?" Iggy said, his most charming smile in place. "I've heard so much about you. I'm sure you could say the same thing about me."
"Uhm," Ian's eyes shifted between the brothers and he seemed a little unsure. Mickey understood - Iggy was a lot to take in the first time you met him. But he gave Ian a meaningful look anyway. "Yes. Of course. Mickey talks so much about you. Nice to meet you, Iggy."
Mickey decided to intervene before anything else went wrong. "So, Coop. You must be tired from the flight. If you have all of your stuff, can we go now? I think Mom was making something special for lunch to welcome you."
"Yeah, yeah, let's go. But you can walk ahead of me and pretend to take pictures on your phone if you want. You know, it makes me look good…" Iggy grinned, sort of, kind of, not really kidding.
Mickey ignored him, rolling his eyes, but gosh, he had really missed his brother, gigantic ego and all.
The first few minutes of the car ride back to the Milkovichs' house was filled with Iggy telling them about his job. Mickey knew their parents would ask him about it, too, but Iggy would gladly tell the story a million times over, so he allowed his brother to fill what otherwise could become a very awkward silence. And Mickey was tired of awkward silences.
Eventually Iggy turned to Ian, who was riding in the backseat, apparently glad to be off the radar for a while. Mickey could see him from the rearview mirror, bracing himself for whatever Iggy was about to say.
"So, Ian."
"Iggy." Ian said, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"I've heard a lot of extremely admirable things about you from Mickey, but he tends to be a biased idiot when he's in love, so… tell me something about yourself."
Mickey glanced in his mirror at Ian again, and could see panic rising in his eyes. "Iggy…" He mumbled quietly. "Don't be a dickhead."
"I'm not being a dickhead. I'm entitled to inquire about the man who has the power to build or destroy my little brother's happiness," Iggy replied, his face completely serious.
"First of all, I'm twenty seven, so stop talking like I'm five. And second, you're being a drama queen again," Mickey shared a quick, meaningful look with his brother, who rolled his eyes.
"Fine, fine. But there's nothing wrong with making sure he's the right man for you," Iggy stage-whispered, as if Ian wasn't there at all. "I don't want to see you heartbroken again."
Mickey was unable to stop his face falling a little.
"Well, you can run a background check if that makes you feel better," Ian commented lightly from the backseat, quickly coming to his rescue. Mickey wished he could turn and thank him, but Iggy was right there. "Or you can trust that your brother is an adult who can make the right choices for himself."
Iggy's eyes narrowed a little. "So does that mean you have nothing good to say in your favor? You're not even going to try selling me with the whole I love your brother so much I'd die for him speech?"
Mickey knew Iggy's intentions were good, but he was certainly pushing all of Ian's buttons, and he had no interest in seeing him explode. "Iggy, cut it out. I mean it."
Iggy grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out of the window.
Mickey suddenly wanted to put him back onto a plane and send him back to Los Angeles.
It was a very, very long day. Iggy asked Ian prying questions at every opportunity. It seemed he wanted to know everything about Mickey's boyfriend –his job, his relationship with Mickey, his aspirations for the future. He tried to disguise the questions with a soft voice and an innocent smile, but he wasn't fooling them. He was clearly interrogating Ian – Ian – and it was only a matter of time until something went off the rails and Mickey didn't want to stand there and watch the trainwreck as it happened.
No matter what he said, though, Iggy was unstoppable.
Ian managed to reply to most of his questions with grace, but Mickey could tell he was getting extremely annoyed. His knuckles actually turned white as he gripped the fork and knife during dinner that evening and the smile on his face was so forced that even their parents were starting to realize something was going on.
Mickey distracted Iggy by asking about filming his new show, his character, anything that would put Iggy off track. It worked, for the most part, and at least it gave Ian enough time to calm down, and not throw his knife at Iggy's face.
Once dinner was over, Ian quickly offered to help Grace with the dishes, desperate to avoid Iggy. Mickey watched him go into the kitchen with his mother and felt bad for him. Ian had nothing to lose here – if things went downhill, Mickey was the one who would look like an idiot in front of his family, and Ian would walk away with the money he'd been promised – but he still felt bad about putting him through this. Everyone had a limit. He sure as hell didn't want to find out what happened when Ian reached his.
He glared at Iggy pointedly, not wanting to say anything in front of their father, but making a mental note to give him a piece of his mind later, when their parents weren't around.
"Hey Ian."
Ian closed his eyes without turning around, rinsing one of the last dishes. Iggy must have seen Grace leave the room to answer her cell phone. He should've known Mickey's asshole brother would use it as one more chance to make this night even worse.
Iggy appeared next to him, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and picking a kitchen towel to dry. Ian kept his mouth shut, feeling his jaw so tense it hurt, and didn't even acknowledge the other man's presence.
It only lasted for a few more seconds until Iggy sighed and leaned his hip against the sink, facing Ian.
"Listen, I know I've been nothing but a dick to you today…"
"Oh, so now you're admitting it…" Ian mumbled, unable to stop himself.
Iggy rolled his stunningly blue eyes. "Yes. I knew what I was doing all along, and I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm actually not."
Ian arched his eyebrow and passed him another dish. "I'm not sure I understand the point of this conversation, then."
Iggy put the dish and the cloth down and ran his fingers through his (also stunning) wavy dark hair. "It doesn't have anything to do with you, I promise. You seem like a good guy. I know you are, because Mickey has told me so a million times and my parents obviously adore you." He waved a hand in the vague direction of the dining room. "But you have to understand… at the end of the day, the only thing I really care about is Mickey's happiness."
"I don't think that's up to you to decide…" Ian said, turning the water off once he was done, and also leaning against the sink to look at Iggy.
"No. But if I can stop him from getting his heart broken, then I will," Iggy shrugged. "He's my little brother. I love him and I hate seeing him upset because of assholes who don't appreciate what a great guy he is."
"You can't choose for him who he falls in love with," Ian crossed his arms over his chest, feeling defensive, and desperately wished someone would walk in and save him from this conversation.
"I know I can't," Iggy seemed genuinely sad. "But I can't help worrying about him. I can't help feeling like I have a responsibility to do something to keep him from getting hurt." Iggy glanced at the doorway, as if making sure no one could eavesdrop. "You know how he is. You know how hard he falls, how big his heart is. I'm tired of jerks walking all over that heart. I'm tired of seeing his hopes and dreams crushed. He's not like me; he doesn't do well on his own and he definitely doesn't appreciate the perks of being an attractive, single man. He wants someone to love him, and he wants to love them back. He dreams of a family of his own." At this point, Iggy's eyes seemed to glaze, seeing something that wasn't there. "When he was a little boy, he would run into my room with a crayon drawing he'd made. It was always the same picture, different variations of the same theme. It was him, his husband and their children. Sometimes they were on a beach, sometimes they were at a fair, sometimes at their own place. He always looked so excited talking about it. He knew what he wanted when he was five years old. And he still wants those things." Iggy took a deep breath and his eyes returned to Ian. "So I don't know if this means the same for both of you. I don't know how you really feel about Mickey. I look at you and I want to believe you love him, but I just don't see it, and that scares the shit out of me, because it means Mickey's heart could get broken again."
Ian was silent. He had no idea what to say. On one hand, he couldn't stop thinking that Ian – the real Ian – had already broken Mickey's heart, had already walked away, and Iggy's words of warning were too late now, even though he didn't know it. And on the other hand… it sent a pang of nostalgia all over him, listening to Iggy talk about his brother like this. It reminded him of that sensation, that feeling of family that he had lost so long ago and that he had almost forgotten completely by now.
"I won't break his heart," he finally said to Iggy, and it really did sound like a promise. A promise Ian knew he would be able to keep, because to break someone's heart you have to mean something to them.
And Ian hadn't meant anything to anyone in a very long time.
The next morning, Iggy woke up feeling like he was ready to stop being a douche to Ian. He had already been honest with him, told him not to mess with Mickey, but now there was no reason to keep things tense and awkward any more. Mickey would never forgive him if he ruined this week for all of them.
As he stretched his arms over his head, Iggy admitted to himself that he still didn't trust Ian a hundred percent, but he was willing to give him a chance for Mickey's sake. There was something about him that made him doubt this guy. Ian was right, though. He couldn't make that decision for Mickey. His brother was a grown up and he could freely choose who to be with.
Iggy figured the best thing for him to do was spend time with Mickey and his boyfriend, to see them interact together. He wanted to see with his own eyes that happiness Mickey had talked about in all of his phone calls since he met Ian. He needed to see it so he could believe it and feel reassured. And he really needed to get to know his brother's man, because everything Mickey had said during those phone calls had led Iggy to believe he would soon be his best man.
Iggy really wanted to be Mickey's best man. It was the most important person at a wedding, the one who got all the attention. Well, after the grooms, of course.
Since there was no better time than the present, Iggy slipped quietly out his bedroom, still wearing his snug blue boxers and white t-shirt. He padded down the hall towards his brother's room and grinned mischievously as he stopped at his door. He wondered if he would find them having a morning quickie or maybe even sleeping naked after getting dirty the previous night. Either way, this was an ideal chance to embarrass Mickey. And what were big brothers for, if not to embarrass their little brothers?
So Iggy carefully turned the doorknob, delighted to find it was unlocked, pushed the door open and yelled, "Good morning, lovebirds!"
But then he stopped, and his grin was replaced by a frown as he took in Mickey and Ian, who had woken up abruptly with his entrance, but they weren't naked or tangled in each other's arms or doing anything remotely normal for a young couple in love.
They were actually sleeping across the room from each other, completely separate.
Ian was sitting up in bed with his hair disheveled, exasperation and annoyance darkening his face. Mickey, previously sleeping on the couch, had rolled to the floor with Iggy's yell. Now he was scrambling back to his feet, wide-eyed with fright.
"Iggy! What the hell are you doing?" He exclaimed, pissed off.
Iggy ignored his brother's question, his brow crinkled in bewilderment. "What exactly is going on here?"
"Nothing's going on! Get out of my room!" Mickey yelled.
"Why aren't you two sleeping together?" Iggy scowled at Ian. Had he forgotten their conversation already? What the hell had he done to his little brother? "Did you two have a fight?"
"No, we're not fighting," Mickey said tiredly, rubbing a hand down his face. "Iggy, please, can you just…"
"No. I want to know what's wrong," Iggy said with his arms crossed stubbornly, trying to look menacing as he stood in the doorway in his underwear.
Ian groaned in frustration. "I have nightmares, okay?" He snapped, sounding incredibly upset. "And when I do, I tend to kick and hit, so Mickey had to move to the couch last night to avoid getting kneed on the groin."
Mickey turned to look at Ian. Iggy let his arms fall to his sides, once again feeling like a dick.
"Really? That sucks, man," He muttered in an apologetic tone, then stared at Ian curiously. "What kind of nightmares?"
"That's none of your damn business," Ian answered, teeth clenched and eyes flaming dangerously.
Iggy put his hands up defensively. "Just asking. I didn't mean to startle you, guys." (Which was a complete lie. That was exactly his plan). He looked between the two men. Mickey was still looking at Ian, and Ian was avoiding both of their eyes. He seemed a little embarrassed, maybe. Iggy was curious about these nightmares, wondering if there was some kind of story there, but realized it would be rude to insist. "I'll go downstairs and start on breakfast, okay? You guys can join me whenever you want."
Mickey simply nodded and Ian stayed quiet. Iggy closed the door softly behind him, determined to find out exactly what was going on with those two.
As soon as the door was closed behind Iggy, Mickey buried his fingers in his messy curls, shaking his head from side to side, desperately. "Fuck, fuck, shit," he muttered.
Ian fell back against the pillows. "That's a really nice vocabulary for a kindergarten teacher."
"Shut up," Mickey turned to him, instantly irritated with him again. "Don't you realize how close he was to…?"
"To nothing," Ian interrupted impatiently, waving a hand in dismissal. "He bought it."
"You don't know Iggy like I do," Mickey scoffed. He dropped on the edge of the bed and looked at Ian. "He's stubborn. If he thinks something's off, he won't leave us alone until he finds out what it is."
"Your annoying brother is your problem, not mine," Ian said, stretching. "I had to deal with him yesterday. Now it's your turn."
Mickey sighed, feeling trapped. What was he going to do to calm his idiot brother's suspicions? Then he looked at Ian, who had his arms over his head and his back to stretch the muscles on his long lean body.
"Thank you," he whispered. Ian tilted his head to the side to look at him, questioningly. "For saying that, about the nightmares. I panicked and had no idea what to say."
"It was the first thing that came to my mind," Ian admitted with a slight shrug. "I'm glad it worked."
Mickey continued to watch him, considering what he had said. He knew Ian actually did have nightmares. He had seen him, thrashing around in bed, making faintly distressed noises. He wanted to ask about it, but knew he would meet nothing but hostility if he did intrude into his personal issues.
And then he got distracted with a slow realization.
"We're gonna have to act more in love," Mickey said in a revelation, making Ian's head snap up to face him.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ian asked warily.
"They have to see that we're in love when they look at us or Iggy is going to be convinced we're fighting, no matter what we say," Mickey felt frustrated. Why was everything so difficult? Why did he keep messing up his own life? "We should probably sit close together, look at each other more fondly, talk in whispers? Hold hands?"
Ian rolled his eyes, looking a bit revolted and uncomfortable. "This just keeps getting worse and worse."
"What other choice do we have?" Mickey asked him, lips curled in a sad smile.
"Well, you could try being honest. If you weren't such a coward, that is," Ian said icily, without an ounce of compassion. "But since I don't see that happening, then I guess I'll have to pretend I actually like you …"
They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, both delaying the moment they had to face Mickey's family again and start showing more affection.
Neither of them was exactly looking forward to it.
While they had breakfast with Iggy and their mother – Terry had already left for work – Ian and Mickey sat close together, thighs almost glued to each other under the table. Mickey spread jam on a piece of toast and handed it to Ian, and Ian refilled Mickey's coffee cup. To others' eyes, it might have looked like an effortless routine – a morning dance they did together every day, one more thing they shared in their life as a couple. But the two of them knew better.
Mickey was not only lying to his family – the most important people he had in his life – but he was also pushing the boundaries of this man he was paying to be here. He could see the discomfort in Ian's eyes as their hands brushed or when Mickey leaned close enough to nudge their shoulders. He hid it well, but Mickey could tell nonetheless. He felt disgusted with himself, knowing he was using Ian, making him do things he didn't want to do because he needed the money.
He disguised his self-disgust with what he hoped looked like a lovesick smile at his fake boyfriend.
After breakfast, Grace said she was going to take a shower and then go out to run some errands. Iggy had brought audition videos with him, and was bugging Mickey to watch them with him. Ian found himself being tugged into the living room by the hand.
"I can't believe you've never seen any of my commercials, Ian," Iggy said, pouting. "They're on national television. They show them on every commercial break during the Super Bowl!"
Ian shrugged. "I don't watch that much television. I don't really have the time."
"Still. I'm shocked that Mickey never showed you one," Iggy glared at his brother. "You're supposed to be my number one fan, Mickey."
"You're lucky I even like you half of the time," Mickey chuckled, as he sat down on the couch and pulled Ian down beside him.
Ian suddenly found Mickey pressed against his side. Within two more of Iggy auditions, Mickey was actually cuddling him, head on his shoulder and arm wrapped around his waist, grateful Mickey ignored his unwilling tension. Iggy kept turning to look at them with a twitchy smile, so Ian struggled to look relaxed and contented in Mickey's arms, even though he felt a little nauseous.
When was the last time someone had held him like that? No one ever bothered caressing his arm or his cheek, or looking for warmth in his embrace. Ian closed his eyes for a second, remembering the very last gesture of affection he had received: the morning his father died. Burt had squeezed Ian's shoulder, and said goodbye, as they parted ways to go to work and school respectively. If Ian had known that would be the last time he'd seen him alive, he would've clung to him and never let go of his father with every last bit of strength he'd had in his body.
Ian opened his eyes again, eyes falling unseeing on the television screen where Iggy was delivering a line in a commercial as if it was a Shakespearean monologue. He swallowed, hoping no one had noticed his moment of weakness.
Still, he found himself feeling more vulnerable than he had felt in years, so he allowed himself to burrow a little more into Mickey's arms, reveling in how nice it was to simply be held without any ulterior motives.
He could tell Mickey was taken off guard, but he merely tightened his arms around Ian a little bit more. Ian broke every rule in his book when he allowed himself to briefly fantasize, how amazing it would be if someone considered him worth holding. He imagined a pair of loving arms wrapping around him, keeping him safe and warm, and never letting go.
He imagined it wasn't all fake. He imagined it was real.
Just for a little bit.