#and mikhailo is so tired okay

[pillowbee]

Galladrabbles: Train.

First time participating!! :D @galladrabbles

---

Gallagher is flat on his ass, exhausted. Mickey, however, hasn’t budged from where he stands, eight feet away.

Mickey had agreed to train Gallagher because everyone had insisted that, “Ian really is the Chosen One!”

But Gallagher’s magic is chaotic. It’s strong, Mickey can feel it trying to come together – right now, though, it’s splintered into a thousand different pieces.

Time isn’t on their side. If he really is the Chosen One, then he has to be ready before winter.

“Get up,” Mickey says. “Go again.”

Gallagher groans, but does as he’s told.

“Focus. Come at me.”

And Gallagher does.

[nahcam]

look! it’s cambriel ‘cam’ slovak. they have been living in south kingsboro for two years. they say the twenty three year old can be impulsive but also loyal, but i just think he looks a lot like logan lerman 

this too me ages to do ajkvndfsjv but here is this trash bags intro ! i’ve had cam for probably almost a decade now ( yikes lmfao ), he’s a super old character of mine & i never thought i would be bringing him back but here he is, slightly revamped !!

tw: drug and alcohol abuse, abuse, mental illness, violence, mentions of miscarriage 

full  name : cambriel  mikhailo  eleazar  slovak

nicknames : honestly  just  cam , he’ll  probably  scream  at  you  if  you  call  him  anything  else  lmfao

gender : cismale

height :  6 ‘ 0

age : 23

birthday : october  21 ,  1996

zodiac : libra  sun  ( libra - scorpio  cusp , also  known  as  the  cusp  of  ‘ drama  and  criticism ’ ) , aquarius  moon , scorpio  ascendant

right  handed  or  left  handed : left  handed

eye  color : really  baby  blue , looks  darker  in  some  lightings 

hair  color : jet  black

piercings  &  tattoos : no  piercings , the  libra  symbol  on  his  right  ankle , the  name  ‘ eleazar ’  on  his  left  wrist ( grandfather’s name ) , this tattoo of an unborn fetus on his upper left bicep which represents him because his parents say he was ‘the abortion that got away’, but this also represents his unborn child with ellie, and these finger tattoos right here !

languages  spoken : ukrainian ( native  tongue ) , pretty  decent  hebrew , english

sexuality : tragically ? heterosexual / heteroromantic  ( 🤢🤮 )

place  of  birth : odesa , ukraine

last  3  songs  listened  to : stadium  arcadium  by  red  hot  chili  peppers , a  gondola  ride  in  paris  by  the  messenger , weight  of  love  by  the  black  keys

character  inspo : a  mix  of  lip  and  frank  gallagher  from  shameless u.s , james  cook  from  skins  u.k  ( huge  muse  from  this  one ! ) , a  mix  of  fezco  and  rue  bennett  from  euphoria , billy  hargrove  from  stranger  things 

soo cam was born in odesa, ukraine to a bulgarian mother ( danijla ) and a ukrainian father ( mikhailo ). now, to put it simple, neither mikhailo nor danijla wanted to have a kid at all. his mother had just turned sixteen when she found out she was pregnant and his father was barely nineteen. the only reason they even had cam is because they were literally told ‘you’re too far in the pregnancy to abort’. needless to say, he was not a wanted child at all

his first few years were mostly him staying with a terrible babysitter his parents hired to take care of him while they were out partying, since he was too young to attend school

he grew up in poverty. most of the time, his parents weren’t really around and there was nothing to eat. he grew up wearing hand me downs from his older cousins, basically broke AF tbh, and his parents cared more about getting fucked up then feeding their son ( and their only son, at that )

from a pretty young age, he remembers living in pretty shitty conditions. his house was always a mess, always scattered with empty bottles of alcohol and a lingering smell of weed, sometimes even meth, but he was too young to know the smell of that

things were never really okay for him, but he managed and learned to fend for himself early on. it wasn’t until he was around six, almost seven, that shit started getting real

his mother began cheating on his dad. when he wasn’t home, she would bring over the same guy and lock the door of their room, telling cam the man was her brother and also his ‘uncle’. cam, of course, was too young to see what was really going on. he never said anything when the man would leave minutes before his father would come home, mostly because he didn’t think it was important

he was going to school one day when he forgot to knock on the door to his parents room. he basically barges in and catches his mother having sex with the guy she claimed was her ‘brother’, and even though he was young, he knew better. luckily, they were too into what they were doing to notice cam walking in, so he quickly walked out and went to school. it’s a lot to witness your parent cheating on your other parent, and it’s even worse if you’re fucking six years old. cam was determined to tell his father, but he didn’t have to

that day, when he came home from school, he found his father drinking on the floor, tears in his eyes, claiming his mother had packed all her things and left. from that moment on, it was just cam and his father

you would expect things to get better from there on out, since mikhailo no longer had anyone to go out and party with, but things just seemed to spiral downwards. mikhailo became angry and began to drink and do drugs ( mostly just coke ). and, if you guessed it, he began to take out all his frustrations on cam

it wasn’t even that big at first, mostly just insults, him telling cam that they meant to abort him, but waited too long and found out too late to do so, petty, petty shit that obviously hurt cam, but he managed it, because his father was the only person he had left

after a while though, it became physical. cam began to notice how differently his father would act when he was sober ( almost never ) versus when he was fucked up. he became violent, little words setting him off. it was almost like he had a split personality of some sort, with the way cam would watch him switch off one moment then switch on the next

he became a victim of abuse, and of course, this led to pretty violent behaviors from pretty early on in his life. all the abuse he would endure, he would quickly take it out on anyone who crossed him the wrong way

this went on for quite some time, but, as sick as it sounded, cam didn’t have the heart to snitch on his father. he wasn’t a doctor, but he could tell he had some type of mental illness, and just add drugs and alcohol to that mix, and he was practically a mess. the only reason they weren’t kicked out of the house was because they owned the house, but most of the time, if not always, they were missing basic necessities like food, clean water or even toilet paper

his life was shit and he knew it, but again, he didn’t have the heart to snitch, even though he knew his dad didn’t love or want him, so, he put up with it. he took it ‘like a man’, as his father said. he did such a good job at hiding his bruises and avoiding talking about his private life

he basically mimicked what his father did to him and did the same thing to other kids. he knew it was wrong, because all the things his father did to him made him feel like shit, empty on the inside, the type of things you cry yourself to sleep with, and maybe that’s exactly why he was so fucking mean and violent to everyone – he wanted them to feel all the pain he was feeling. he didn’t think it was fair that kids his grade had such big houses, such great parents and loving siblings, pets, basically everything he wanted to have but lacked

the amount of times he was suspended from school before he was even ten years old was surprising. it was mostly just violence, but he also got in trouble for stealing and basic bullying. his teachers and basically everyone at school called him ‘the devils child’

he thought he could keep his secret going forever, but everything has to come to an end. he was being reprimanded by one of his teachers when she grabs him by the arm to take him out the room, to which he winces. long story short, but she found all his bruises, then realized he was covering up a bunch on his face with concealer

it was obvious he had a serious problem when she asked him ‘how did this happen?’ and his literal reply was ‘if you tell anyone about this, i’ll hurt you and your entire family’, before pushing her desk to the floor and running out before she could catch him

he thought it would all settle down after a while. he didn’t go to school the following days to avoid seeing her, but his encounter with her bought everything to light. after the fourth day of staying home, police raided his house and arrested his father, taking cam to a group home

instead of feeling relieved because he no longer had to put up with abuse, he got even angrier, if that was possible. he had to testify against his father and he was living with a bunch of people he didn’t even know. if his life was already shit before, it turned even shittier now

he basically became property of the government, a foster child, when he was thirteen years old. he was jumping from group home to group home, foster home to foster home, basically living a much more unstable life than he had with his father

he repeatedly blamed the teacher who snitched on him and even went as far as egging her house and slashing her tires ( crazy mf tbh ). he was getting into constant fights at his foster homes ( which resulted in him being transferred constantly ), stealing, and during this time, experimenting with drugs

as depressing as it sounds, but he was so young and constantly thinking about death. he fantasized the ways he would die, how it would happen, and he constantly asked himself what he did wrong in his past life to live the life he was living now. being a foster kid wasn’t a step up at all. if anything, the kids he lived with were more fucked up then he was. everyone had their own story and some serious trauma they carried with them. everyone acted out one way or another

for cam, it was drugs, violence, and crime. he was doing so much bullshit at such a young age, literally lived way more at his thirteen years than most people do by like, twenty five. his entire life was a fucking trip. he even went to juvie a good three times, and he was literally fucking thirteen

authorities deemed his father unfit to take care of him ( as if it wasn’t obvious ). however, it was revealed that his father had more mental health issues than cam thought. he had borderline personality disorder, or bpd, and was beginning to show signs of early dementia and possible schizophrenia, mostly psychosis. instead of putting him in prison, he was put in a mental asylum, which deeply depressed cam when finding out because he did that. even though it was probably the best thing that happened to him, he lived with constant guilt and blamed himself, despite knowing his father obviously needed professional help

it seemed like his life would remain crappy forever, like he would be stuck living the rest of his life in ukraine, probably in prison before he was even nineteen. luckily for cam though, authorities managed to track down a family member he had who was living in new york, his grandfather named eleazar, or his dad’s dad

cam didn’t even know he had a grandfather to begin with. he just assumed most people from his family were either dead, too old to care, or just didn’t want to meet him. he was even more surprised when he was told his grandfather wanted to take him to new york and legally adopt him, meaning he would leave behind everything he’s ever known

he was expecting his grandfather to be just as bad as his father was, but he would do anything to leave foster care, so he agreed to meet him

he was not expecting the man who wanted to adopt him to be the way he was. it was almost as if his father had been adopted, because he had absolutely nothing in common with his father ( or cam’s grandfather )

cam discovered a ton of things when he met his grandfather. for starters, he had absolutely no idea he was jewish at all. his father never practiced any type of religion and never told him anything about his family bg, so finding out his entire family from his father’s side was jewish was pretty shocking. he also discovered that his grandfather had been in ww2 ( literally ), in camp auschwitz in southern poland, from 1943 till the end of the war. he even had the tattoo he was forced to get when entering the camp when he was eight years old, basically a survivor. he was separated from his mother, father, and older sister and hasn’t seen or heard of them since, but suspects they’re all dead. when he was old enough, he moved from poland to ukraine

talking to the man fascinated cam in every sense of the word. it wasn’t just because he was his grandfather, but cam had truly never met anyone like him at all. he was basically everything that cam wanted to be, a survivor, a fighter, brave, genuine... the list of his good qualities were infinite. it took a while, but cam was finally moving to kingsboro, new york with his grandfather when he was fourteen years old, after he had officially become his legal guardian 

from there, life seemed to get a little better. he learned english and was taught hebrew by his grandfather, and he listened to his war stories every day and even asked him to repeat the ones he had already told. his grandfather was walking, living proof that the things cam had gone through were tough, sure, but they were nothing compared to what his grandfather lived through. in a way, the man gave him hope that things would eventually get better, and they definitely did

his bad ass tendencies never went away, but they certainly got a lot better since living with his grandpa, since his life was a lot more stable. he had a clean, spacious home, food, ac... could he really ask for more? 

with the help from his grandpa, he even agreed to go to therapy and speak with a psychologist about his issues. he was getting so much better, less angry, but there was still trauma there because how does one even get rid of that?

now, fast forward to high school and he’s, tragically, selling drugs for extra money, but not really doing anything hard, hard, mostly just dealing. on his senior ( or junior? ) year, he meets none other than ellie, basically the first girl he’s ever really loved, and of course, they start to date, fall madly in love, and she gets pregnant with his child

this is enough to make cam straighten out his act because unlike his father, he wants to be there for his kid. in his head, he’s thinking he’s going to marry this girl. he’s thinking they’re going to have a kid and live happily ever after, but, as always, tragedy hits and she has a miscarriage, which of course, devastates cam a lot

we all know how this goes tho 🤡  after some time, they seem to drift apart. cam really wants to make things work, but ellie throws herself in her school work and starts pulling away from him, resulting in their breakup six months after the miscarriage

he takes this harder then he should and goes to jersey to stay with a high school friend for a while, ghosting everyone ( minus his grandfather ) completely. this kind of triggers something inside him and he’s suddenly back to his old habits ( old habits die hard, huh? )

catch him selling drugs, fighting people and snorting ketamine like it’s candy, bitch! he hasn’t even hit rock bottom yet, but he’s definitely getting there. it was like the breakup and losing a kid makes him snap back to his old self. them drifting apart just further reminds him that everyone leaves him eventually for someone better, because he’s fucked up and unlovable. he constantly tells himself that his own mother and father never loved nor wanted him, so why would ellie? the most fucked up part is that he doesn’t even blame her for doing what she did, because he would have done the same if he was in her shoes

now he’s back in new york and he’s slowly but surely turning into a fucking ketamine junkie. he knows what drugs and alcohol did to his family, but he’s doing it anyways, because he doesn’t give not one single fuck tbh 😂

i feel like the only person he has that’s actually there for him is his grandfather, but the man is 86 years old. cam knows he doesn’t have long, and honestly? the day his grandfather dies is probably the day he actually does hit rock bottom, but we’ll wait for that day to come by lmfao

libra-scorpio cusp with hella more scorpio tendencies!! he’s a sneaky little fuck, and he can be super manipulative when he wants to be. also curses like a fucking sailor, saying ‘fuckin’ at least 6 times in one sentence LOL

he plays guitar and is actually really fucking good at it ( think like, john frusciante , david gilmour , dan auerbach, or even jimi hendrix ), he also writes poetry and short stories as a way to let out his frustrations, but he keeps this super lowkey. most people think he makes all his money from drug dealing, but a good amount of his money also comes from publishing guitar covers on youtube. he never shows his face and goes under the alias, trickfinger. he has 3 million subscribers on his channel, but no one knows its him

this is already superrr fucking long so i’m going to end it here, but i’m going to put his birthchart below this for some extra #tea

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

130lb of Ukrainian Courage (pt3)

Svetlana pulls up outside the old house and sets her cigarette in the cars ashtray. She checks her reflection in the mirror and reapplies her lipstick. She does not need to do this, the house contains two homosexuals and her son but she likes to look her best at all times and what little charm she wields over Mickey will come in handy today.

She presses the doorbell and smiles at the excited cry of ‘Mama!’ that comes from somewhere inside a moment before the door is flung open and Yevgeny crashes into her middle, hugging her tightly.

“Hello sweet one! Ah! You get bigger every day! I have missed you very much.”

Svetlana wraps her arms around him and peppers his dark hair with kisses. She had hoped the blonde hair he was born with would stick but alas, he appears to be becoming as dark and short as his father is. One cannot have everything though.

“Hey.”

Mickey appears from the kitchen and she sees his eyes flick over her carefully made-up lips and lifted breasts, appraising but not in the least bit lustful and a twinge of something that Svetlana refuses to call regret, catches her.

“You goin’ out or something?”

“No. I dress up for myself and for my most wonderful man only.”

She smooths Yevgeny’s hair as she says this and he looks up at her with the simple adoration of small children. Mickey frowns and purses his lips

“You’ll give him a complex.”

“Two fathers? He is already complexed.”

“That doesn’t make any … you know what? Doesn’t matter. You coming in?”

Mickey is holding the door open in invitation and Svetlana is grateful. Things will go smoother if he is in a good mood and he clearly is. He looks tired but healthy, she had been worried he would get fat when he and Carrot made a nest together but if anything, he is leaner than he used to be. Most likely drinking a little less.

“Please.”

Svetlana detaches Yevgeny, who barrels back into the house past his Papa to resume a video game with his Dad.

“I like your shirt. Blue is a nice colour on you.”

Mickey glances down at the fitted t-shirt he is wearing and back to Svetlana. His look of patient good humour instantly replaced with watchfulness. Shit! She has played too nicely.

“Your pants look awful though. Too tight on your ass.”

His expression softens and Svetlana thinks, not for the first time, that he really is the most peculiar man she has ever encountered. Not all bad by any means, but so very strange.

“You want a coffee?”

“No, thank you. I will not stay long.”

“Hi Svet!”

Ian waves from the living room, craning his head over the back of the sofa.

“Hi.”

She smiles and watches as Yevgeny bounces all over Ian in sudden excitement over something the blue hedgehog is doing on screen.

“I’m gonna win, Mama!”

He yells and Svetlana laughs, happy to see him so happy.

“Good luck!”

She calls and follows Mickey into the kitchen, which is always agreeably clean. A world apart from the house they shared together when Yevgeny was a baby. Terry’s house was always filthy, even when Terry wasn’t in it. Carrot is clearly a good influence in some ways.

Mickey is drumming his fingers against his leg and doing that fucking annoying thing of chewing the inner corner of his lip. Svetlana things it makes him look like a retarded chiwawa. It also probably means he has either done or is about to do, something stupid. She sets her face into a mask of readiness and folds her arms.

“What foolishness have you done?”

Mickey’s expression changes to his familiar look of long-suffering contempt for the world and Svetlana relaxes a little.

“I haven’t done shit! Why the fuck you asking me … and get that look off your face! You’re his Mom not mine.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders and scratches his upper lip with his thumb.

“Fine, you have done nothing. What is it then?”

Mickey peers over her shoulder before stepping forward furtively

“I just … I wanted to ask you if we’re … you know … if we’re properly divorced?”

His voice is low and eye contact is urgent and swift. Svetlana sighs and smiles

“Yes, you signed. I signed. We are divorced. You are planning to re-marry a new whore?”

“No … yeah … maybe. Not a whore. Don’t say anything, Okay?”

Svetlana’s eyes open wide in surprise and she claps her hands, clasping them before her chest delightedly

“You are planning a proposal for Carrot?!”

“Shhh… keep your fuckin’ voice down!”

Mickey snaps although Svetlana has in fact been whispering so low even he can barely hear her. Svet cups his anxious face fondly between her hand and kisses his lips exuberantly

“Good for you.”

“Ugh. Never do that again. Jesus.”

Mickey pulls away, roughly rubbing the lipstick from his mouth but there are two high spots of colour in his cheeks and he is clearly at least a little pleased by her reaction. Svetlana’s smile disappears as suddenly as it bloomed and she steps back from him.

“I have news that is not as good.”

“What?”

Mickey is still faffing with his mouth, trying to ensure all traces of crimson have been removed and Svetlana takes advantage of his distraction, taking a deep breath before saying

“Yevegny will not be coming to stay next weekend.”

“No? Why not?”

Mickey glances up and Svetlana sighs heavily

“He is going to meet his grandfather.”

Mickey grins and raises his eyebrows in surprise

“No shit? Your Dad’s coming state side? I always kinda thought he was dead!”

Svet presses her lips together and shakes her head sharply

“Not my father. Yours. Terry is being released and he wishes to meet Yevgeny.”

She watches the colour slowly drain from Mickey’s face and the intrigued smile falter and then disappear.

“Fuck.”

The word comes out in a hushed whisper. Fear is written plainly across his features and it makes him look younger, more like the boy she first met.

Mickey stares at her for a moment and then drives his fist painfully down onto the counter top, a jagged, reflexive movement that Svetlana expected. It is good to release tension swiftly, and she knows that this is how men like Mickey tend to do it.

“FUCK!”

“OK in there?”

Ian’s voice carries back to them and the initial tug of fear in Mickey’s heart freezes into a lump of cold terror.

“Dropped something.”

His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away as he answers Ian and kicks the door shut. He closes his eyes to try and blot out the images swirling through his head.

A dusty old car pulling up outside the house ...

Ian, alone and unprotected, eating cereal over the sink ...

A knock at the deep blue door Ian painted so carefully...

Ian setting his breakfast aside with a cheerful expression, ready to welcome a guest, and going unsuspectingly to the door …

Svetlana lays her hand gently on top of Mickey’s fist but he snatches it away, turning his back on her and pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, trying to maintain control.

“When does he get out?”

“Friday. He will come with Yevgeny and I to the park and then he will head to Canada to stay with your uncle.”

“What?”

Mickey comes back to reality a little at this. Yevgeny. Terry is making a beeline straight for the kid for fuck knows what shitty reason but it sure as Hell isn’t a game of catch in the park. Mickey shakes his head tersely.

“No! Fuck no! Don’t let him near Yevgeny! Jesus, Svet.”

“Geny is his only grandson. He says he wishes to give him some money, for college.”

Despite the absolute horror churning in his brain, Mickey can’t help but laugh a little at that.

“You think you know my Dad? If you had the first clue about him, you’d know that he thinks college is for fags, pussies and clever fucks in need of a beat down. There is no way he wants Yevgeny in college.”

Svetlana flicks her hair over her shoulder and shrugs.

“He has been changing. He is older now, tired. He wants to see what family he has left.”

She is trying to make it sound as if she is cajoling him but Svetlana knows that his answer will eventually be yes. Mickey has never denied his father anything he wanted. Fuck the whore. Marry the whore. Raise a child. Whatever Terry has asked of him, Mickey has done.

The only thing strong enough to change that pattern a little is what Mickey feels for Ian, and it got him disowned by the Milkovich patriarch so irrevocably that his name is no longer allowed in Terry’s presence. Not a great loss by any imagining but Svetlana knows how much it wounds Mickey all the same. Her ex-husband would never admit it, but he is a deeply sensitive man and despite it all, he still loves his father. It is his weakness and she leans on it heavily now.

“You are dead to him, Mikhailo. You know this?”

Mickey nods, licks his bottom lip and his eyes, dark with hurt, flick away and then back to her.

“Yeah, I know.”

Svetlana notices a nerve near Mickey’s eye starting to twitch. It trembles just above the small white scar that remains from the pistol whipping Terry gave him and guilt gnaws uncomfortably at her.

Her mother was a person like Mickey, Natania Tarasov was a woman of few words but her face was a colourful story book of emotions. Each nerve seemed capable of telling all that was in her heart if people only bothered to learn her unique language.

Mickey lacks Natania’s subtlety of character and his tics are more pronounced but somehow he can be more difficult to read. Svetlana supposes it is because she never bothered to learn him. Ian did though. Ian would know that the little twitching scar is shame and regret and loss and the beginnings of another defeat to the whims of Terry Milkovich.

“Why the fuck do you want to let him see the kid anyway?”

“Family is important. So is money for college.”

Svet shrugs with her usual pragmatism. She allows a few seconds pause and then lays her final playing card

“I have told your father that if anything happens to you, he will never see Yevgeny again. He promises there will be no trouble.”

Mickey looks at her sharply, his eyes wild and full of protective fear

“I don’t give a shit about me. What about Ian?”

Svetlana suppresses a little smile and feigns nonchalance as if this is not the reaction she was waiting for.

“I can bargain for Ian too if you want me to.”

“If I …? Of course I fucking want you to! Ian is the whole fucking deal, tell that old prick to stay the fuck away from him! You hear me, bitch?”

Mickey takes a single,threatening step towards his ex-wife and then catches himself and stops, turning to grip the underside of the counter, hard, using it as an anchor. He keeps his eyes trained on her though and his gaze so furious Svetlana holds up her hands, nodding hastily. She always underestimates the pull of Carrot Boy.

“Of course. Ian will be safe. That is the deal? Geny gets money from his Grandpa and you have your Carrot?”

“There is no way this is all he wants. He doesn’t even fuckin’ like kids.”

Mickey says softly, almost to himself. He is breathing a little easier now and he makes himself let go of the counter, dimly aware that the sharp edge of the wood has raised blisters across his palms.

“It is one afternoon, Mikhailo. Then he will leave.”

Mickey rubs at the tiny quivering scar by his eye irritably. He hates it but if it is what it takes to extract a promise for Ian’s safety...

“You’ll be with him the whole time? Yevgeny, I mean.”

“Of course. Your father does not want to babysit. Only meet.”

Mickey is slowly nodding to himself. His Dad is a horrible old bastard but if Svetlana will be there … Mickey knows she would never let anything happen to Yev … and maybe she’s right. Perhaps after all this time the old man is starting to mellow a little. That’s not impossible to believe, not even for Terry. Maybe he’ll even be able to forgive Mickey a little … not that he cares but, you know, it’s his father ...

“Ok. Yeah OK. But don’t leave Dad alone with Yev. He’s got a fuckin’ short temper and Yev can be a little mouthy.”

“I will stay close.”

Svetlana smiles, touched by Mickey’s obvious concern for their son.

“Alright. Can we have him Saturday night though? Ian will still wanna see him.”

Mickey is staring into the middle distance and Svetlana knows better than to try and talk to him much more when he is wound up so tightly. Terry is the stick. Mickey needs his Carrot. She lifts her purse a little higher on her shoulder.

“I will bring Yevgeny on Saturday before dinner. You’ll feed him.”

“Thanks.”

Mickey mumbles and barely notices when he is suddenly alone.

*

Ian finds Mickey in the kitchen. He heard him say goodbye to Yev but then he’s been so quiet, Ian wondered if he’d gone out.

“Hey! There you are! You OK?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey’s lip quirks upwards but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes which are large and dark with worry.

“You’re not. What’s wrong?”

Ian is in front of him in an instant, large hands resting on his shoulders, peering intently at him, reading him.

“Babe, what’s happened?”

Mickey drags himself back from the swirling white noise filling his head and swallows dryly. He sniffs, glances up at Ian and suddenly lunges forward and presses an urgent kiss against Ian’s mouth. It is harsh and quick and Ian doesn’t have time to respond before it is over and Mickey is moving away.

“Nothing. I’m good. Hey, listen, ah, Yev isn’t going to stay here next Friday.”

“How come?”

Ian’s lip is stinging a little where Mickey crushed it against his teeth but he ignores it. Mickey is a ball of nervous energy and it is giving Ian jitters just watching him prowl around the kitchen. It reminds Ian of how he used to move, furtive and angry, like a caged animal.

“Mickey. What’s going on?”

Ian grabs his boyfriends arm and enfolds him in a tight hug. Mickey stiffens and for a moment, Ian thinks he will push him away but slowly his arms circle Ian’s waist. When he looks up at Ian, he still a little absent but much more himself and Ian lets out the breath he has been holding.

“Tell me, Mick.”

“Svet wants to take him somewhere. It’s nothing major and I don’t want to fuckin’ argue about it with you. OK?”

“Okay…?”

Ian lets go of Mickey, giving him space, and leans back against the worktop, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.

“She ... she heard from Terry. He’s getting out and he wants to meet Yevgeny.”

Mickey looks across at Ian, eyebrows raised expectantly, his expression is defiant, almost challenging and Ian lets out a startled laugh and shakes his head, confused.

“Well fuck that! You told her that’s not happening, right?”

Mickey just keeps looking at him with the same expression and Ian feels the first stirrings of anger pushing through the shock.

“Mickey, there is no fucking way ...”

“It’s his grandson, man. He just wants to see him.”

Mickey interrupts, he doesn’t want to argue about this. He doesn’t want to think too much about it. He just wants Terry to see Yevgeny and then fuck off out to Canada and never come back.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t give a fuck what he wants! He raped Mandy, he got someone else to rape you … Jesus! He tried to fucking KILL you, Mickey!”

Ian is practically beside himself with frustration and his voice bounces off the walls, the words slamming into Mickey, who pushes a hand tersely through his hair and returns the glare Ian is giving him

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic. It was a fight, no one tried to kill anyone.”

“Are you insane? What does he have to do, huh? What does the great Terry Milkovich have to do for you to see what he is?”

“I told you I don’t want to argue about this.”

Mickey shakes his head, trembling hands tapping a cigarette out of a packet and lighting it, no longer able to look at Ian, who presses on despite Mickey’s obvious discomfort.

“I can’t believe you. You are so frightened of him that you would use our son as a shield! It’s pathetic!”

Ian snaps, he doesn’t care about Mickey’s ego just now and if his words hurt then so be it! He is completely blinded by his anger. He thought the days of Mickey ducking and diving around the wrath of his father were done but here they are again and this time it is not Ian Mickey is willing to risk but Yevgeny.

“You call Svetlana and tell her there is no fucking way that evil prick is coming near our kid!”

Ian demands, sliding his cellphone across the counter top but Mickey makes no move to take  it.

“I don’t like it either but it’s one afternoon! He just wants to say hi, give him some money and maybe get a fuckin’ picture to stick on his next cell wall, I don’t know but it isn’t gonna be a big fucking deal unless you make it one.”

Mickey is trying not to lose his temper. He gets why Ian is so upset but Ian doesn’t know Terry the way Mickey does. If Svet can make him agree to leave Ian alone then fuck it, this is the best chance Mickey has of protecting him.

“It’s not happening!”

Ian roars, slamming his hand down hard enough to upset the half-finished mug of coffee beside him. Neither man pays any attention to the warm, brown liquid dripping onto the lino, they are locked in a stare off and neither is willing to blink first.

“Yes it is.”

Mickey says finally and turns to leave through the back door. He needs to leave. He’s too wound up and he doesn’t trust himself to be around anyone right now. It’s too much. He feels too hot, like he has a fever and his head is pounding.

Ian knows Mickey is about to take off and it infuriates him still further. That he thinks he can just make this decision and then fucking run away when it suits him! Fuck that! Ian knows the triggers of Mickey’s temper very well and deliberately pulls them all at once.

“Are you really still that scared little boy? Mickey Milkovich: Daddy’s little bitch! Is that what you are?”

The effect is immediate and horrible. Mickey spins around and storms toward Ian, rolling his neck from one side to the other as he moves, finally and spectacularly losing his shit.

Ian stands his ground, not giving an inch even as Mickey’s finger jabs him in the chest and he gets close enough for his hair to brush under Ian’s nose.

“I know you’re upset, but you need to watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

Ian spits, shoving him. Mickey has planted his feet, years of fighting conditioning his movement, and he only staggers slightly before stepping back in. He can smell the faint sweetness of bath lotion on Ian’s clothes and knows that there is a steaming bath upstairs waiting for them and that it will probably go cold still waiting and the knowledge only serves to add fuel to the inferno that is quickly becoming his temper.

“This is my dad, and my kid and if I say they can fucking hang out, then guess what, bitch? It’s happening. End of fuckin’ discussion!”

Mickey’s nostrils are flaring and his jaw is clenched so hard the muscles stand out starkly but Ian doesn’t care.

“No! Yevgeny is my kid too!”

“No he fucking isn’t!”

The words are out before Mickey can stop them and the silence that echoes around them is deafening. Ian goes completely still and fixes his gaze a few inches above Mickey’s head.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean that ...”

Mickey tries to touch Ian’s face, trying to make him look at him but Ian jerks his chin away and Mickey lets his hand drop.

“Ian ...”

“I’m going out.”

Ian says flatly and pushes roughly past his boyfriend.

“Ian … don’t… I ...”

Mickey falters, his words failing him as he watches Ian walk away. The front door slams and this time, Mickey is painfully aware that he is suddenly alone.

[bcntnotbrokcn]

THREAD 2

Estimated ages: Mickey, 22. Ian, 20. Brief synopsis: After Mickey had come to Ian’s aide, Ian finally comes to the fucking realization that he needs Mickey. So he decides to ask him out on a date. It’s only a little heartbreaking, but so sweet. Triggers: Mentions of previous suicidal thoughts.

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian ran a hand through his hair, walking down the sidewalk towards the Milkovich house. His heart was hammering in his chest, his hands shaking from nerves. He knew he had fucked up before, knew that he had done something incredibly selfish -- and not just texting Mickey in his time of need. Not bringing his ex back into all his drama. No, that wasn’t the selfish thing. That wasn’t the thing that had him kicking himself over and over about. No, he had told Mickey he loved him.

Really, Ian hadn’t meant to say it. He was in a bad place mentally, and Mickey had been his knight in shining armor. It had just kind of slipped out. That didn’t meant he didn’t feel it -- he did. He had never stopped loving Mickey. No matter who he was with or what he was doing with them -- his thoughts always went back to the blue eyed wonder. His heart was claimed long ago -- maybe that’s why none of his recent relationships had worked out. He never got his heart back after giving it so willingly to Mickey. He never wanted it back.

But that didn’t meant he should have said it. After all the shit he put Mickey through, after all the drama and heartache -- Ian didn’t have the right to say something like that. Mickey didn’t deserve that. Ian felt like an asshole. On top of texting his ex after two years -- he was a Grade-A douchebag.

Ian walked up to the Milkovich door, pausing for a moment, glancing around. He rocked back and forth on his heels, reaching up and adjusting the collar on his shirt -- he was still in his EMT uniform, just having gotten off work. He held in his hand something he knew Mickey would outwardly hate -- but maybe, secretly love. Ian looked down at the bouquet of a half dozen blue roses in his hand -- they had reminded him of Mickey’s eyes. Taking a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, Ian reached up, knocking on the door and waiting.

MICKEY MILKOVICH

with his meds balanced,ian could go back to normal life , which means that mickey could too . and for someone who spent most of the short time spent in the gallagher house wishing that he could never come back , he didn’t expect it to be so hard . it’s stupid , and keeps reminding himself that .( STUPID , what did he expect , after all ? ian doesn’t fucking need him unless he’s got a gun in his mouth . ) it’s not much that he expected something to change , he didn’t , reality is just a very bitter medicine that he should be used to swallowing . so focuses on the small things , and if he’s abusing of the many bottles to pick from laying around the house , it’s nothing new .

and that’s what he’s doing when there’s a knock on the front door , small bottle in hand without bothering with a cup . doesn’t want to get up , has finally found a comfortable position in the couch , but there’s no one else home . considers pretending the house is empty , ( who the fuck can it be , anyway ? ) but curiosity has him shifting . amber liquid sloshes without spilling when feet are steadied on the ground , and inked digits wrap on the doorknob before he can decide if it’s worth the trouble .

expects to see many things. maybe somebody someone in his family owes money to , or some underage idiot from the neighborhood looking for drugs , or even the cops in search of one of the siblings . he doesn’t expect to see ian , however . and he surely doesn’t expect to see flowers , six too many of them . surprise flashes through matching azure , eyebrows arching towards hairline , but refuses to acknowledge the knot in his throat .

❛ what the fuck? ❜ it’s the first thing that slips with ethylic breath , frowning at blue arrangement before shooting the redhead behind it a questioning glare . ❛ you askin’ some fifteen year old to prom or some shit ? jesus , ❜ snorts . this is a little ridiculous , and half hopes this isn’t what he thinks it is . tired of assumptions , MIXED SIGNALS .❛ what’s up with that , man ? you cool ? —— nice uniform . ❜

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian smiled in spite of himself, gripping the flowers even tighter in his hand. He glanced around once more for a moment, before his eyes found Mickey’s again. “Not for a fifteen year old, and not to prom.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his uniform. “Yeah, thanks. I, uh -- just got off my shift. This couldn’t wait. I mean, well -- it probably could but -- I didn’t want to wait.”

With that, Ian got down on bended knee in front of Mickey, holding out the flowers to him. “They remind me of you -- of your eyes. I mean they’re -- for you, Mick.” Ian cleared his throat a bit, his heart speeding up in his chest. “I, uh -- Mikhailo Milkovich, would you do me the pleasure of going on a date with me? I want to show you off at Sizzlers and spoil you because you deserve to be treated like a king and --”

Ian couldn’t believe how nervous he was, how sure that Mickey was going to say no. He was afraid of getting his heart ripped out and trampled on. Sure, he’d deserve it, but that didn’t keep him from praying to god to just let Mickey say yes.

“I’ve been a complete fuck up in the past. And I know I can’t blame my disease because -- because I refused to take my meds then. I was just an ass. And I know what happened recently doesn’t give me much credibility. But it was -- it was grief, you know? I’ve been taking them, Mickey. I’ve been taking my meds and now that they’re readjusted, even what happened is just a speed bump. And I know -- I know you deserve better than me. So much better than me. But I am nothing if not a selfish son of a bitch sometimes so here I am, asking you to give me a chance. I’m not saying let’s rush back into a relationship. I’m just saying -- go on a real date with me and not do everything in your power to not have a good time.”

“But please say yes and soon because my arm is getting tired.” Ian shook the flowers slightly, looking at Mickey with hopeful eyes.

MICKEY MILKOVICH

❛   what  the  fuck  are  you  doing?   ❜         it’s  repetitive ,  but  now  there’s  alarm  in  the  question ,  spat  as  soon  as  ian  sinks  onto  his  knee .  it’s  so  unbelievable  that  he  almost  laughs ,   not  even  his  most  romantic  /  pathetic  daydream  could  compare  to  this  moment .         ❛   you  fucking  kiddin’  me ?   ❜        worry  seeps  in  when  eyes  stray  from  the  redhead  to  peek  at  the  neighborhood  behind  him ,   expecting  to  see  curious  eyes  everywhere  but  there’s  not  a  soul  on  the  street .  he  might  be  out  of  the  closet ,  but  it  doesn’t  mean  that  the  whole  neighborhood  needs  to  see  ian  gallagher  on  his  doorstep ,  giving  him  flowers  in  the  gayest  way  known  to  men .

jaw  tightens  when  eyes  meet  again,   conflict  written  all  over  his  face  once  the  speech  is  fully  taken  in .   deep  inside ,  knows  that  there’s  no  question  about  his  final  answer .   but  the  variables  scare  him .  he’s  never  been  on  a  date ,   never  thought  that  he  would  have  to  worry  about  being  on  one .   is  it  even  a  good  idea ?    (    it’s  not ,  but  when  did  he  ever  care  about  that?    )       ❛   shut  the  fuck  up ,   you’re  not  even  makin’  any  sense  right  now ,   ❜         it’s  softer  this  time ,   followed  by  a  snort  and  an  amused  grin  that  lights  up  pale  gaze .

with  a  huff,   snatches  the  flowers  off  ian’s  hand ,   giving  his  arm  well  deserved  rest .        ❛   yeah ,   fine .  okay ,  we  can  go  to  fuckin’  sizzlers .  just ——   stop  that  shit ,   come  inside .   you’re  watchin’  too  much  tv .   ❜        makes  a  point  of  shaking  the  bouquet ,   point  proven  with  the  simple  gesture .        ❛   we’re  not  actually  teens  anymore ,  y’know ?   you  could  just  ask ,   ❜        still ,   he’s  smiling ,  because  this  is  ridiculous ,   and  he  shouldn’t  look  at  it  so  affectionately .   he  knows  where  this  will  most  likely  end ,   and  he’s  not  sure  that  he’s  looking  forward  to  go  through  that  again ;   but  maybe  it  is  worth  the  risk ,   in  the  end .

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian couldn’t help it. As soon as Mickey took the roses from him and said yes, Ian’s whole face lit up with happiness. His eyes were shining, and his lips turned up into an easy grin. He really had been afraid that Mickey was going to say no, that he wouldn’t want to deal with that drama again -- and Ian wouldn’t have blamed him for it. But even so, that wouldn’t have stopped the heartbreak from the rejection. But Mickey had said yes. There was hope for them.

Getting up from the ground, he shrugged lightly. “Being romantic has nothing to do with been teenagers, Mick. It just means I look at you and see you and -- want to give you all the nice things in life. Like roses that are the color of your eyes. I love your eyes. Always have.”

He walked into the Milkovich house with Mickey, glancing around for a moment, noticing how nothing had really changed since the last time he had been in there. He turned to Mickey, eyes still bright, stupid grin still in place. “So, uhm -- how’s tomorrow night work for you? I was thinking tonight but -- kind of felt like that’d be short notice.”

MICKEY MILKOVICH

❛   yeah,  it  has  to  do  with  bein’  fucking  cheesy,   ❜         teases ,   wide  grin  mirroring  ian’s .   claims  romance  is ,   or  should  be ,   dead  but  heart  races  all  the  same ,   warmth  spreads  all  over ,   and  feels  undeniably  happy .   it’s  stupid ,  thinks ,   eyes  glued  to  ian’s .   it’s  stupid  that  all  it  takes  is  him  to  come  over  with  a  smile  and  some  bullshit  on  his  sleeve  to  have  mickey’s  stomach  doing  fucking  somersaults ,   and  hope  budding  on  the  back  of  his  brain .

maintains  a  straight  face,   or  at  least  attempts  to ,   closing  the  door  behind  ian .   in  his  emt  uniform ,   the  contrast  is  stark  against  the  mess  of  the  milkovich  living  room ,   a  bit  like  he’s  been  cut  and  pasted  over  the  background .   like  he  doesn’t  belong  on  tainted  soil  that  finds  pleasure  in  sucking  the  light  out  of  everything  that  dares  burning  above  it .   is  one  of  the  many  theories  idle  brain  could  come  up  with  to  blame  the  universe  for  handing  them  a  shit  hand ,   when  he’s  nothing  but  a  sore  loser .

❛   that’s  fine,  yeah.   tomorrow  night’s...  cool,   ❜         nods ,   and  wants  to  say  that  tonight  is  fine  too ,  and  that  any  other  time  in  the  future  is  also  fine .   but  he’s  also  not  completely  out  of  it  yet ,  a  shred  of  self  preservation  still  to  be  found  somewhere .   looks  at  the  flowers  instead ,  a  small  frown  bunching  eyebrows .        ❛   try  not  t’  get  arrested  by  the  fuckin’  military  this  time ,  yeah ?   ❜        

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian let out a small laugh despite himself, reaching a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “Well, I haven’t stolen and crashed any government property or gone AWOL recently, so I think we’ll be okay on that front.” The subject touched on why Ian was asking Mickey out in the first place -- he wanted to go back to when it was last good for them.

Of course, Ian wasn’t looking to just pick up where they left off. No, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that would be possible. He knew he was going to have to work to earn Mickey’s trust again, work towards the idea of a relationship instead of actually just jumping right back into one. But before the MPs had been called, before Ian was carted off to military prison, they had wanted to go to Sizzlers, had wanted to go on a date. And while things had been shitty right before that moment, their decision to actually go out together -- finally, after never having an actual date in the years they had been fooling around and dating -- was like a stepping stone at that point. Things felt normal again for once. Better than normal. Ian wanted to capture that again.

The air and energy around them changed as Ian felt something in the back of his mind clawing to the forefront, and he rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments as his small smile dropped, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Look, Mick, I -- I’m sorry.” His voice had dropped, and he refused to look at the older male. Suddenly, the same old beat up couch was more than interesting enough to catch his gaze.

“It wasn’t fair to you -- to contact you. I could have gotten a hold of anyone else. Fiona or Lip or -- Debbie. Hell, probably even Frank; he dealt with Monica enough times. I’m sorry that I dragged you back into everything. You deserved better than that. You have always deserved better than what I’ve been able to give you.” Alarm suddenly shone in Ian’s eyes, and he looked at Mickey again quickly, his next words coming out rushed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret it. I -- even though it was selfish of me, I’m glad I did. Something just snapped that day and -- I didn’t want anyone else. You’ve always been better at handling me when I’m like that than anyone else. Well, not exactly like that, but -- but when my head isn’t working right, you know?”

Ian closed his eyes, running a hand across his face. “This isn’t coming out right. I’m just --” He dropped his hand, shrugging slightly. “I’m just sorry. Because I know you probably moved on, and after the way I treated you -- you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to be put in that kind of situation. ‘Do I go to my ex or do I let him suffer on his own?’ And -- neither options were fair to you. So I -- fuck.” 

Turning from Mickey, Ian paced back and forth slightly, his mind running a million miles a minute. His medication had been adjusted, but it always took a couple weeks for the full effects to show up in his behavior. He wasn’t depressed like he was before, but he was still a little strung out, still a little disoriented, still a little erratic. “So I called you because I’m a selfish prick and I’ve always been a selfish prick. But I -- fuck, Mick. It’s always been you, you know that?”

Ian turned to Mickey again finally, his expression one of defeat. “When I finally got my head out of my ass and started taking my meds like I was supposed to -- it all clicked into place. I realized what I had done and what I had lost. And my first instinct -- it was to run to you. I wanted nothing more than to see you and apologize and prove to you that I’m worthy of your love. That I’m not -- That I’m not just some psych patient who goes off the rails all the time. But I knew that -- I couldn’t. I put you through so much shit and I -- I didn’t want you to have to deal with that again. So I tried to move on. I dated guys. Had a relationship that -- that honestly didn’t end very well -- because it’s always been you. No one measures up to you. Not Kash, not Ned, and definitely not Caleb. It’s always been you.”

“So here I am. Once again being the selfish prick that everyone knows and probably doesn’t love as much as they say they do. Because when you came that day, when you were there for me and when you stayed -- it gave me hope. Hope that maybe -- maybe I didn’t ruin us for eternity. Because I -- I love you,” Ian finally said, his voice breaking on the last few words. “I’ve always loved you.”

MICKEY MILKOVICH

the  shift  in  the  mood  doesn’t  go  unnoticed,   and  as  soon  as  the  apology  is  out  of  ian’s  lips ,   mickey  knows  that  he  doesn’t  want  to  hear  the  rest .   it  has  never  been  about  that ,   doesn’t  want  to  talk  about  the  past .   if  any  grudge  still  hung ,   mickey  wouldn’t  be  saying  ‘ yes ’  to  a  date ,   or  inviting  him  into  his  home ;   would  have  shut  the  door  on  his  face  at  the  first  sight  of  the  flowers  instead .   takes  a  little  too  long  to  say  that ,  however ,   and  then  he’s  getting  lost  in  words  that  won’t  stop  spilling ,   that  make  his  insides  feel  like  they’re  burning ,   and  half  wishes  that  he  could  just  cover  his  ears .

but  he  can’t,   so  he  listens.    you  deserved  better ,   almost  laughs  but  if  he  dares  make  a  sound  fears  it’ll  sound  more  like  a  whine .   hates  that ,   hates  listening  to  that ,   the  way  ian  makes  it  sound  like  the  world  should  revolve  around  him ,   like  he’s  worth  more  than  your  average  south - side  thug    (    he’s  not    ) .   it’s  always  been  you ,   can’t  look  at  ian ,  not  even  when  he  turns  back ,   can’t  look  up .   wants  to  call  him  out  on  his  bullshit ,   say  that  if  he  wanted  to  come  back  that  he  should  have ,   that  he  should  keep  his  ‘ i  couldn’t  put  you  through  this  anymore ’  bullshit  to  himself    (    when  it’s  just  a  way  to  cope  with  his  own  choices    ) ,   as  if  he  has  to  protect  mickey  from  heartache ,   as  if  mickey  can’t  decide  what  is  best  for  him  himself .   it’s  bullshit .   i  love  you ,   glances  up  then ,   eyes  brimming  with  emotion  on  otherwise  blank  face ,   jaw  tightly  clenched .   i’ve  always  loved  you .

❛   shut  the  fuck  up,   ❜         starts ,   but  it’s  not  aggressive ,   instead  said  under  a  breath  that  didn’t  know  he  had  been  holding .  lips  twitch ,   tense  smile  almost  making  home  on  his  face  but  fading  the  more  he  thinks .        ❛   i——   fuck ,   what  y’  want  me  to  fuckin’  say ?   ❜         demands ,   licking  lips  that  suddenly  feel  too  dry .   shakes  his  head ,   shifting  his  weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other ,   still  holding  the  dumb  fucking  flowers .   grip  tightens  around  it ,   and  eyes  fall  to  the  ground  by  where  ian  stands ,   unable  to  look  at  his  face .

won’t  open  his  heart,   won’t  do  that  to  himself  this  time .   he  misses  ian ,   more  than  he  will  care  to  admit ,  and  loves  him  like  no  time  has  passed  at  all     (    doesn’t  think  that  it  will  ever  change    ) ,   but  he  can’t  do  this .   not  right  now ,   can’t  open  up  only  to  be  chucked  to  the  side  at  the  first  difficulty  they  come  across .        ❛   i ,   it’s  fine ,  y’know ?   it’s  all  fine ,   you  don’t  gotta  fuckin’  apologize  for  anything .   shit  happens ,   i  fucked  up  a  shit  ton  with  ya  too ,  so ,   ❜         gulps .   fidgety ,   thumbs  at  his  nose and  scratches  an  eyebrow ,   before  surreptitiously  rubbing  moisture  from  eye  with  his  fingertips .   sniffs ,   crossing  his  arms  and  finally  looking  up  for  good ,   not  looking  a  third  of  the  mess  that  he  feels  inside .          ❛   just——   whatever ,   man .   okay ?   not  like  you  owe  me  anythin’ .   i  helped  ‘cause  i  wanted  to  help ,   and  i’m  fuckin’  glad  you  texted  me .  listening  to  fiona  would  pro’lly  just  make  you  wanna  eat  that  bullet  even  more ,   ❜         snickers .   maybe  he  shouldn’t  joke  about  that ,   or  make  fun  of  ian’s  older  sister ,   but  too  late  now .        ❛   i’m  just  glad  you’re  okay ,  y’know ?   ❜

IAN GALLAGHER

The indifference in Mickey’s words ripped through Ian’s heart, and he had to swallow back the emotions that were threatening to pour out from him. He knew Mickey felt more, that he was thinking and feeling more. Ian knew that. He also knew that Mickey was too afraid to voice them, to show Ian how he felt. And suddenly, Ian felt like they were in the past. Before Ian had joined the military, before Mickey had come out -- when it was always a dance between them, always Ian putting himself out there only to be shot down.

And feeling that way from Mickey once again -- it kind of broke Ian. Because after all the shit they had gone through, after everything in their past that had finally made Mickey act like he gave a shit -- the diagnosis, the club, all of the shit -- Ian felt like they had made momentous strides forward only to take even bigger steps backwards.

Ian couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just stand there and take it. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, couldn’t just stare at Mickey with heart eyes while the older male talked shit to him. Not after everything he had said. Not after putting his heart out on the line like he had. He felt tears pooling in his eyes, his heart aching from the sting of rejection. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t just stand there and let Mickey see him fall apart.

“I have to go,” Ian said softly, his voice breaking and wavering with emotion, though his face and his features remained stoic. “I’ll -- uh, I’ll text you tomorrow, Mick. About the date.” He probably wouldn’t, he knew. Ian had dealt with rejection from Mickey in the past, but that -- that just seemed so much worse to him. After ‘I love you’ and ‘sickness, health, all that shit’ -- to ‘what ya want me to fuckin say’ and ‘whatever, man, okay?’ It wasn’t right. None of it was right.

Ian didn’t spare Mickey another glance, afraid that looking at him would cause Ian to lose it and completely crumble. He walked past his ex, heading out the front door without a moment’s hesitation. He could feel the pain building, threatening to break through with every second the passed. He closed the door behind him, putting a wall between him and Mickey. And as he made it to the end of the walkway, just before stepping onto the sidewalk, he felt it -- a strangled sob escaped his lips as the tears refused to be kept at bay any longer. He needed to just go somewhere and cry it out; he didn’t want anyone to see him like that.

But he couldn’t help it. What was that quote Debbie had been saying? That one from the book she couldn’t put down?

Pain demands to be felt.

Ian was feeling it.

MICKEY MILKOVICH

not  this  again,  not  this  again,  not  this.   keeps  repeating  in  his  head ,   and  everything  moves  too  fast .        ❛   ian—–   ian ,   can  you  jus——  wait !   listen——   hey !   ❜        but  he  doesn’t  listen ,   the  door  closing  between  them .   when  has  ian  ever  listened ?   he  talks ,   and  sees ,   but  never  listens .  and  it  hurts ,   he’s  leaving  again .    third  time’s  the  charm ,  hopes  as  he  pulls  the  door  open  with  a  huff ,   dropping  the  flowers  somewhere  along  the  way  when  rushing  after  the  redhead .   grabs  his  arm  with  a  little  more  force  than  intended ,   and   panic  sets  heart  on  fast  pace ,   throat  suddenly  tight .   doesn’t  know  what  he’s  done  wrong ,   though  deep  inside  that  much  is  obvious .   why  are  the  words  suddenly  refusing  to  be  said ?   he’s  said  it  before ,   he  could  say  it  again .   should  say  it  again ,   because  ian  is  leaving .

 ❛   don’t  do  this.   stop ,  and  just  fuckin’  listen  to  me  for  once ,   okay ?   please ?   ❜         takes  a  shaky  breath ,   eyes  begging  when  they  meet  ian’s .  lets  go  of  his  arm ,   trying  to  swallow  the  lump  in  his  throat .   it’s  easier  to  talk  when  the  only  thing  in  his  mind  is :   don’t  let  him  go  again .   learned  his  lesson  the  first  time ,   tried  all  that  he  could  the  second  time ,   now  it  has  to  work .        ❛   i’m  sorry ,  i ——   wasn’t  thinkin’  straight ,  okay ?   i  didn’t  see  that  fuckin’  heart - to - heart  comin’ ,   ❜         realizes  that  he  sounds  dismissive  again ,   so  rushes  to  fix  it .        ❛   it’s  not  a  bad  thing !   just  caught  me  out  of  guard  and——   it’s  hard ,   alright ?   it’s  fuckin’  hard  to  hear  ya  say  that  shit  ‘cause  i  wanna  believe  it  so  fuckin’  bad .   but  it’s  hard ,   man ,   i’m  sorry .   ❜ 

heart  shrinks,   tears  filling  crystal  gaze  and  can’t  help  but  snarl  at  it ,   rubbing  them  away  with  more  violence  than  strictly  needed .   can’t  cry ,  not  about  this ,   not  again .        ❛   fuck ,  you  can’t——   leave  like  that ,   can’t  put  me  on  the  spot  again ,  alright ?   i  loved  you ,   i  gave  you  everythin’  i  fuckin’  could ,  and  you  didn’t  even  fuckin’  visit  me ,   ❜        told  himself  that  all  had  been  forgiven ,   but  it  never  stops  hurting .        ❛   and  fuck ,  ian ,   nothing  makes  me  happier  than  givin’  us  another  fuckin’  chance ,  but  i  can’t—  i  can’t  jump  in  like  that .   not  if  you  gonna  leave  as  soon  as  i  say  somethin’  wrong ,   or  don’t  meet  your  expectations .   ‘cause  i  won’t ,   we  know  that .  i  will  disappoint  you  every  fuckin’  time ,   but  i’m  doin’  my  best  here ,   and  i  was  doin’  my  best  then ,   and  it  never  fuckin’  mattered  but  it  has  to  now .   ❜

❛   i  love  you,   ❜         chokes  out .   and  maybe  that’s  the  problem ,   why  it  hurts  so  much ,   why  this  is  so  difficult .        ❛   okay ?  i  do ,   and  i  never  stopped  lovin’  you  ‘cause…   i  dunno ,   i  fuckin’  hate  myself  or  whatever .   it’s  always  you ,   it’ll  always  be  you .   but  this  is  fuckin’  hard  for  me ,   and  you  gotta  understand  that .   and  i  don’t  want  you  to  fuckin’  apologize ,   i  just  want  ya  to  be  a  little  patient  this  time  ‘round .   please ,  ian .   ❜

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian listened to Mickey speaking, more tears falling that he quickly wiped away, not wanting to completely break down in front of his ex. Even through all the shit they had been through together, even through Mickey taking care of him when he was manic and depressed -- Ian didn’t want to show that kind of weakness. Not now. He didn’t want Mickey to know how much it hurt to hear that Mickey was -- for all intents and purposes -- scared to be with Ian again.

When Mickey finally stopped talking, it just kept jumping around in Ian’s head. ‘I love you.’ And maybe Mickey had sounded broken saying it, and that hurt Ian more than he cared to admit, but Mickey had still said it. Which meant there was hope for them, that Ian hadn’t completely fucked them over. That maybe they could be together in the future.

He did it before he even really knew he was doing it. He grabbed the sides of Mickey’s face and kissed him hard, trying to convey all his emotions into that one intimate act. How much he loved him, how sorry he was, how much he needed him. But it didn’t last long, not nearly long enough for Ian. He couldn’t rush Mickey.

Pulling back, Ian nodded. “Yeah. Patient. I can -- I can totally do that. You know, starting now.” He swallowed hard, wiping at his face again, his heart beating quickly in his chest. “I just -- I’m sorry, I just -- shit, you said not to say sorry, sorry. Shit, I did it again. Fuck.” He paused for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean -- I don’t expect to just jump back into anything, Mick. I don’t. I fucked up, I know that. I just... needed to know. Needed to hear it. Because I needed to know if there was a chance or if -- or if I needed to learn how to get over you. And when you didn't say it, I thought -- I thought maybe you didn't. Not anymore.” He took in a shaky breath. “But... Now I know.” A small smile graced his lips, his eyes still watery from unshed tears. “I can be patient.”

MICKEY MILKOVICH

the  kiss  takes  his  breath  away,   eyes  tightly  shut  as  soon  as  lips  connect ,   and  tries  to  avoid  the  cheesy  analogies  though  can’t  help  but  compare  it  to  taking  a  hit  after  being  out  of  smokes  all  day ,   or  the  first  sip  of  alcohol .   hand  moves  to  cup  ian’s  resting  on  his  cheek ,   overwhelmed  by  the  rush  of  feelings  running  through  his  veins .   and  it’s  the  opposite  of  patience ,  still  thinks  it’s  too  soon  when  ian  pulls  away .   can  only  tell  his  eyes  are  also  wet  because  sight  becomes  blurry  when  they’re  open .

smiles  despite  himself,   the  way  ian  struggles  with  the  words  oddly  endearing .   makes  him  feel  young ,   like  they  could  actually  start  over .        ❛   well ,   i  do ,  okay ?   don’t  really  think  that’ll  ever  fuckin’  change ,   ❜        of  course  ian  needs  everything  clear ,   put  on  words ,   or  else  it’s  not  there .   should  have  learned  by  now ,  but  forgets .   it’s  easier  for  him  to  show  through  actions ,   and  meaningful  glances ,   than  to  choke  out  those  words .   but  he’ll  do  it     (     has  done  it ,   what  won’t  he  do  for  him ?     )   for  ian .

 ❛   thank  you,   ❜         nods  slowly ,   teeth  pulling  on  the  inside  of  his  cheek ,   hesitation  flashing  in  his  eyes .        ❛   so ,  —— tomorrow’s  on ,   then ?   ❜         doesn’t  want  to  ask  but  asks  anyway ,   voice  sounding  small  though  he  tries  for  nonchalant .

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian couldn’t help the soft smile that adorned his face at Mickey’s question. They had a chance -- they could be together, like they were supposed to be before Ian’s bipolar disorder had reared its ugly head. The way he felt that they could have been after that night -- before Sammi had ruined everything, before Monica had gotten into Ian’s head, before Ian had broken up with Mickey. Before things turned bad. They had a chance to rekindle all the good parts of them together.

“Tomorrow’s on,” Ian confirmed with a short nod. He wiped at the wetness that was still present on his cheeks, before sticking his hands in his pockets and glancing away from Mickey for a quick moment. His soft smile was turning into a full on grin, and he felt like he could almost skip home. Ian looked back at Mickey. “I’ll come by say, around six?” He could even ask Fiona if he could borrow her car -- after Mickey stuck around, Fiona warmed up to him real fast. Especially now, after she heard about what had happened. It would be good. No L. A proper date.

MICKEY MILKOVICH

     tries  not  to  look  too  pleased  about  the  positive  but  can’t  help  the  smile  threatening  to  split  face  in  half .   sky  gaze  falls  to  his  own  feet  as  every  nerve  thrums  with  hope  that  has  to  scold  himself  for  having .  if  the  last  half  an  hour  is  anything  to  go  by ,  they  tread  on  dangerous  grounds .   FRAGILE   /   BROKEN  ;    but  they  are  trying  to  fix  it ,   though  hands  are  clumsy  they  carry  the  best  intentions .   it’s  worth  it.   if  ian  is  willing  to  try  again ,   how  could  mickey  not  be ?

      ❛   OKAY.  SIX’S  COOL,   ❜         nods  and  shrugs ,  lifting  chin  to  stare  at  the  redhead ,   all  of  the  concealed  excitement  reflecting  in  pale  blue  despite  best  efforts .  teeth  claim  bottom  lip ,  deciding  between  saying  something  else  or  leaving  it  at  that .  sniffs ,   and  then  remembers.        ❛   and  no  fuckin’  flowers  this  time ,  or  any  of  that  girly  bullshit ,   ‘kay ?   ❜         sounds  more  amused  than  offended ,  lips  twisting  with  teasing  grin .

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at Mickey’s words, nodding as he looked down at the ground, a slight blush making its way onto his cheeks. He knew Mickey wasn’t really into all that stuff, but Ian couldn’t help himself at the time -- he had wanted to prove a point. And, in his opinion, he did. He got himself a date, didn’t he? “Yeah. Yeah, no girly bullshit,” he repeated with another small laugh, looking back up at Mickey.

It was strange -- Ian had been nervous and insecure around Mickey way back when, when they first started hanging out. But he had grown out of that, had grown more confident. Suddenly, however, he felt like a fifteen year old again, unsure what to do with himself. “I’ll... see you tomorrow then,” Ian said slowly, awkwardly. “Uhm --” He hesitated for a moment, before leaning in and kissing Mickey’s cheek. Cheek kisses were innocent, right? Another blush came to his cheeks, and he grinned. “Okay, bye.” Not wanting to make a bigger fool out of himself, Ian turned from Mickey, heading down the sidewalk with a little pep in his step.

MICKEY MILKOVICH

 it  doesn’t  feel  real.  after  watching  the  redhead’s  back  until  he  turned  a  corner,  smile  out  of  place  on  rose  tinted  lips  so  often  downturned  in  a  frown,  it  becomes  too  much.  what  the  fuck  did  i  just  do?  it  slowly  sinks  in,  images  of  the  past  fifteen  minutes  suddenly  coming  together.  wants  to  feel  giddy,  elated  that  ian  wants  him  again,  and  in  a  way  does.  won’t  admit  it,  but  the  idea  of  being  seen  with  ian  in  public  is  far  from  scary  now,  even  in  such  romantic  setting  ———   a  date!  who  would  have  thought?

 but  as  the  hours  pass,  the  more  blue  petals  that  have  seen  better  days  wilt,  the  more  fears  grow  inside  hesitant  heart.  doesn’t  regret  saying  yes,  as  if  that  had  ever  been  a  choice.  why  should  he  deny  the  chance  to  recover  the  one  period  of  rough  life  that  had  been  happy,  before  pills,  guns,  and  sammy?  why  should  he  deny  ian  when  he’s  all  he  will  ever  want?  despite  that,  can’t  help  feeling  ashamed  of  his  own  willingness  to  put  broken  heart  on  the  line.  pathetic,  won’t  lie,  and  maybe  most  people�� in  his  place  would  have  at  least  played  hard  to  get,  but  mickey  has  never  had  too  much  patience  for  games.  can  barely  sleep  that  night.

 gaze  meets  itself  on  the  mirror,  minutes  ticking  dangerously  close  to  six.  stupid,  no  amount  of  hair  gel  can  make  him  look  presentable,  only  looks  stupid.  so  picks  jeans  and  the  least  stained  t - shirt  he  can  find.  black  one,  unsurprisingly.  at  least  it  has  sleeves.  still,  self  consciousness  grips  insides  with  ruthless  hands,  afraid  of  filling  too  well  southside  shoes  that  he  belongs  in.  it’s  their  first  date.  pulls  on  black  shoes  that  are  the  only  fancy  pair  he  owns.  there.  that’s  enough  effort.  sighs  at  the  mirrored  image  and  leaves  the  bathroom  with  tense  shoulders,  and  blames  ian  for  the  first  shot  of  cheap  whiskey  burning  down  esophagus.  the  second  one,  he  takes  full  responsability  for.

IAN GALLAGHER

Ian couldn’t believe that Mickey had said yes. After all the shit that he had put the other male through during their years together, he had fully expected Mickey to punch him and then leave him bleeding on the ground while Mickey went back inside and got drunk and tried to forget that Ian even existed. Sure, Mickey had come to his aid when Ian needed him the most, but that was literally a life or death situation -- special circumstances and all that. This was a date. Their first date. Ian had expected Mickey to say no. Mickey should have said no.

Ian was eternally grateful that he had said yes.

Once the next day had rolled around, Ian had dressed as nice as he could without his siblings asking too many questions -- some nice dark blue jeans, a white button down shirt that he didn’t even care to tuck in (who the fuck did that in this day and age anyway?), and some nice brown loafers that he had picked up some time or another and had let collect dust under his bed for quite some time. After not being able to figure out what he did with his own body spray, he had settled on spritzing some of Lip’s -- it would have to do.

Six was drawing ever nearer, and Ian felt like, if his heart didn’t calm the fuck down, it was going to beat right out of his chest. His nerves were on overdrive, his fingertips were tingling, and his stomach was doing flips. Thankfully Fiona had let him borrow her car, and even though he couldn’t fully remember driving to Mickey’s -- he supposed that had to do with the nerves -- his mind knew exactly where it was going. Six on the dot, he pulled in front of the Milkovich homestead.

Rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans, Ian took a moment before climbing out of the car and heading up the walkway. He knocked a couple times, jumping up and down on his heels to hype himself up and shaking out his hands. “You’ve got this, Gallagher. It’s just Mickey,” he muttered to himself, before he snorted at the irony of that statement. “Just Mickey.”

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nickovich chapter 12

“So … When did you know you were gay?”

Mickey looks to his left to raise an eyebrow at Nicky and pushes his tongue into his cheek. They’ve been waiting for Iggy for nearly fifteen minutes. Not long, but long enough for Nicky to start getting antsy. Mickey has noticed that about her, she seems to be in perpetual movement and when she has to sit still, she gets annoying as fuck. Just like Ian. He glances at the phone in his hand but there is nothing. Fuck sake.

“What?”

Nicky asks, giving the look back and then grinning at him.

“You’re a nosy fucker, that’s what.”

“It’s good to share. Makes you live longer or something. I’ll go first,”

Nicky clears her throat and blinks up at the cold blue sky with dramatic wistfulness

“My friend Jessica’s mom had THE most amazing wrack ...”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

Mickey cuts across her story with a frown of distaste.

“What you don’t like boobs?”

“No I don’t like boobs. Even the word! It sounds stupid.”

“As opposed to scrotum? Cause that word sounds made up.”

Nicky wrinkles her nose at him.

“Okay, so what would you call boobs then?”

Nicky asks and then laughs as Mickey makes one of those overly dramatic explosive gestures of face and hands that she finds adorable.

“How the fuck should I know? They’re little weird fleshy globes that people lose their fucking minds over. Maybe fuckin’ … Flabby chest balls.”

“Ew! What the fuck? That’s horrible.”

Nicky laughs and watches as her friends lip quivers just a tiny bit.

“I don’t fucking know! You’re the asshole asking stupid fucking questions.”

Mickey thumbs his lip and looks down at his phone again.

“What time did you tell him we were going?”

“Didn’t.”

“Well you think maybe you should?”

Nicky is trying to tread lightly but she knows it is probably like treading lightly around a landmine, doesn’t matter how gentle you are, one wrong move and the fuckers gonna blow. Mickey tongues at the slightly bitten chapping on his full bottom lip and shrugs.

“He said he’d call me. I’m not some whiny bitch who can’t wait for a call.”

“Except you can’t wait.”

“I can wait a little while.”

Mickey says softly and despite the words she is desperate to yell at him regarding the sensibleness of a decision to wait, Nicky knows there is going to be no faster way to spark an argument than pressing him too hard here.

“Okay.”

*

The car Mickey’s contact has procured is pretty nice. Nicky doesn’t know shit about cars but it’s a silver four-x-four thing that looks pretty new. The dirty looking blonde guy who climbs out of the drivers seat in a shredded grey cut off looks at Nicky with a vaguely amused expression.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask.”

Mickey grunts, holding his hand out for the keys.

“Hi! I’m ...”

“Hey!”

Mickey holds up a warning hand to Nicky and shakes his head

“What he don’t know, he can’t be made to tell. Same goes for you.”

Nicky rolls her eyes and raises her eyebrows at the blonde guy apologetically

Iggy grins and drops the keys into his brothers hand, nodding to Nicky

“Nice to meet you anyway.”

“Yeah you too.”

“We gotta go.”

Mickey says quietly, checking his phone yet again. No messages. No missed calls.

“Is … uh … the other guy not comin’?”

Iggy asks sympathetically and Mickey gives a curt shake of his head.

“Nah. Don’t matter. He’s got his shit to do and I got mine.”

Iggy and Nicky share a quick look of understanding and then Iggy nods and says

“Okay, cool. Well. I guess this is it, huh?”

Mickey’s eyes snap up from the phone screen

“Yeah, guess so. You need anything?”

“Nah. I’ll be alright.”

“Cool.”

Iggy thumbs his lower lip and Nicky startles realising that this must be one of Mickey’s brothers. She’d sort of guessed anyway but that little gesture. Shit. It suddenly feels like she is intruding and she nudges Mickey firmly.

“Can I get in the new car?”

Mickey gives her the keys without comment and scratches his cheek awkwardly as she leaves him and Iggy alone.

“Thanks for the car and … the photo too.”

Iggy stares at his little brother for a second before tutting and throwing his arms around his shoulders and pulling Mickey close. Mickey’s arms tighten around him briefly, his face pressed into the dark fabric of Iggy’s old cut off.

“You were always a clever little bastard. Smartest kid Pop had. If anyone is gonna make it, it’ll be you.”

Iggy mumbles and pulls back clapping both of Mickey’s shoulders between his hands. He knows there is a good chance this is going to be the last time he sees his brother, at least for a while and he has no idea how to deal with that. Mickey is clearly feeling the same way because neither of them can make proper eye contact. It’s not the Milkovich way to be such a pussy over a good bye. Iggy takes a deep breath, smiling nervously and shrugs.

“You want me to fuck Gallagher up if I see him?”

“No. Don’t do anything to him. He’s off limits now, same as always.”

Iggy pouts and then nods.

“Fair enough. Call when you can.”

“Yeah. I will.”

Mickey sniffs heavily and he and Iggy bump fists.

“Alright. Well. See ya.”

“See ya, bro.”

Iggy smiles and ruffles Mickey’s hair once more before heading toward the old pile of shit van as Mickey climbs into the new silver car, their lives finally and irrevocably headed in different directions. Iggy beeps the horn as he drives past and Mickey lifts his hand in a small wave.

“You good?”

Nicky asks, handing him a cigarette, which Mickey takes, tossing the cellphone on the dash and slipping his shades on.

“Yeah.”

They sit, parked in the middle of the dock, smoking in utter silence. Nicky puffs her cheeks out as Mickey drums his fingers against the little cellphone. Minutes tick by and finally she throws her hands up. All or nothing.

“So do we live here now?”

“What?”

“I mean I didn’t buy flip-flops yet but I was pretty sold on a life south of the boarder.”

Mickey frowns at her and folds his arms defensively over his chest.

“Look, if he doesn’t call tonight, we can get a room and just ...”

“No way. Uh-uh. You can’t wait another night.”

“I’m just ...”

“You’re a sitting target. That’s what you just are. You think people haven’t recognised you already?”

“Why are you being a dick about this?”

“Because! You’re a smart guy acting seriously dumb. You’re all over the TV ...”

“You seen me?”

Mickey’s face softens with worry and Nicky sighs sympathetically

“Yes, Mikhailo Alexandre Milkovich, I have seen you and other people have too. Abe, I know you don’t want to but you have got to leave town. Now.”

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

Mickey mumbles and Nicky smiles gently at him. She’s getting pissed off with the waiting but she is trying to keep her cool.

“Saw you when I went for coffee. Then again in the store. And again at the youth centre.”

Mickey cringes and curses under his breath.

“I can’t just leave him.”

“Right, so call.”

“But he said ...”

“Jesus, Mickey! Fucking call! What else are you going to do? Sit around not knowing whether its a good bye or not? Why do you always give all of the power to him, huh? Take some of it back already!”

Nicky seizes the phone and shoves it firmly into his hand. He is so shocked by the outburst that he is beginning to comply before the belligerent streak of his nature catches up and he shakes his head.

“Fuck! I thought South Side was supposed to be tough. You’re both pussies!”

Nicky snatches the phone back and dials the one number on it, ignoring Mickey’s outraged cry and his grasping hand. Ian answers almost instantly and Nicky figures he’s been watching his cell phone just like Mickey has. Stubborn idiots.

“Mick?”

“No, it’s Nicky. We’re rolling, you in or out?”

There is a pause on the end of the line and the look Mickey is giving her over the rim of his shades suggests that he is seriously contemplating opening the door and shoving her and the damn phone out of the vehicle.

“Can you pick me up?”

Ian asks and Nicky raises an eyebrow

“Really?”

“What? What did he say?”

Mickey makes an impatient gesture at the same time as Ian says

“Yeah. I can be … fuck. I can be wherever.”

Nicky holds up a finger to Mickey and nods

“Hang on, Let me ask.”

Mickey’s look has turned outright homicidal but Nicky ignores it.

“Can you pick him up?”

“Really?”

“Ah, see I pre-empted you and already asked that. Yes really. Can you get him?”

Nicky is pretty sure she has never heard quite such a spectacularly dramatic screech of tires even in the movies and she’d be pissed at the way she was thrown back in her seat by the force of them leaving the docks if she wasn’t so damn pleased.

“Yeah, I think we can come and get you.”

*

Ian sees the silver car barreling toward him and smiles. He has his bags ready, he said good bye to Trevor, he told Carl he could have the stuff he left behind in his room. He had time to think and he used it well. For once Ian actually feels like he has made a decision he actually wants for himself. He wants Mickey, whatever the fuck that entails.

As the car pulls up alongside him, Ian grins at both adorable convicts but his eyes fix on Mickey in a way that they haven’t in a long time, with utter certainty.

“Okay, okay, I know that look… hold on.”

Nicky holds up her hands and then hastily gets out of the passenger seat.

“I’ll sit in the back, you two can do your thing up front.”

Mickey is smiling in a way that makes Ian’s stomach do somersaults and as Nicky chucks his bag in the back seat and climbs in, Ian takes his own seat beside the man he loves and leans over, pressing his lips against Mickey’s own.

“Sorry I’m late.”

*