#ugly cries over these two dumb infants why did this show do this to me

[captainjackfuckingbarakat-blog]

So I’m working on an Ian/Mickey fic, but refuse to post it, until I’ve got a rough draft completed. Now, I’m not very far in it right now, but with college right now, motivation dwindles. So, I thought I’d post a snippet (ok, not exactly a snippet, it’s a few thousand words long...), and hopefully get some feedback on it.

Enjoy!

Felicia’s hand was flung in front of her, the diamond on her finger glinting with the sunlight beaming through the window and reflecting off it. Ian dug into the depths of his memory, for any recollection of a boyfriend, but he found none. He’d known the fiery auburn haired girl for three years – their first meeting definitely left them a story to tell. Despite the length of their friendship, Ian could only remember Felicia single, even last night she’d been eagerly grinding against some guy. “Oi, don’t be thinking too hard there.” She spoke with a thick British accent; she’d only moved to the states three years ago, shortly before meeting Ian, and she did nothing to cover her origins.

           “You’re just telling me about this now!” Ian seized her left hand, eyes glazing over the rock that took up half of her finger. Felicia had been a mysterious woman from the beginning, and had no problem constantly throwing him for a loop – like the ex-boyfriend she’d left behind with their infant daughter when she was 18.

           “He only proposed this morning. Sorry I decided to have celebratory sex with my fiancé to tell your sorry ass.” Felicia yanked back her hand, flashing one more adoring smile at her ring finger before shoving it into the pocket of her black romper. “Oh come on, I’ve told you about Mickey, dark and handsome. Haven’t I?” Felicia threw a gob smacked hand to her forehead and her face flushed. “Ey Ian, forgot to tell you, there’s this bloke I’ve been seein.”

           “Well jeez Felicia, surprised you didn’t wait until I was walking you down the aisle.” Ian had always been one to tell her about his latest fling, however he’s pretty sure she stopped paying attention at guy number 5, and that had only been a month in. He used to believe every guy would be the one, but after a harsh break up with a guy he’d dated for a year, he jumped off that train.

           “Who says you’re givin me away?” She put on a serious face, arms crossing across her chest in dismay, but they both knew that unless she was having the wedding in London, Ian was the only one that fit the job. Felicia’s mom had passed years ago, and her dad was barely hanging on since then, cancer eating away at his lungs. Her only brother stuck around to care for their father, while she’d run away at 16, and only went back for her mother’s funeral – he hated her. “I wanted to wait till it got serious. It got serious, then I forgot.”

           “Probably a few too many lines of coke. I told you that shit isn’t good for you.” Ian tutted his best friend – she was a party girl, but Ian figured out how to maneuver around it. He always let her do her thing, and did a good job at standing up to peer pressure. He had a lot more restraint than his older brother Lip, who was 24 and already a raging alcoholic. Ian was past his party days, and had enough on his plate these days without the booze and drugs plaguing him.

           “Good thing my fiancé don’t care how dumb I am. He loves me regardless.” Felicia flashed her ring again, if only so she could stare longingly at it, as if the man who’d given it to her would appear upon her wishes. “Tomorrow,” she pointed adamantly at Ian. “You’re taking me out for a celebratory drink.”

           “It’ll have to be an early drink. I go in at five, won’t be off until well after midnight.” Ian’s work hours were shit, and the job mundane. He crossed his arms all night as he worked as an intimidation technique at the fairytale, a gay club in Boys town. That’s how he’d met Felicia, a rowdy patron who was way too drunk, and he hadn’t taken a single step up the latter in three years. At least he still have a steady flow of cock, his one remaining vice – he’d even given up cigarettes along the way, allowing his lungs a break from nicotine and weed.

           “Pick me up at two for an afternoon cocktail.” Felicia shook his hand as if that were normal behavior – what, were they setting up some sort of business deal – the two friends had been more of huggers. “Tonight, it’s back to my fiancé, so you’ll have to party hard without me.” For Ian, that meant one beer in the privacy of his crappy apartment in the heart of Chicago, streaming Netflix through the night.

~

           “So, you have got to tell me about this guy.” They had been at the bar for all but ten minutes, with Felicia trying to distract him with crazy coworker stories – she worked reception at a law firm. The girl was already sipping her way through her second glass of whiskey, while Ian had taken a few sips from his Coca-Cola. The bartender had given him a dirty look when he turned down even a beer with minimal alcohol content. He was ready to find it a maddening bar like in the movie Coyote Ugly that would spray him down with water for his choice. “Come on, what’s his name again?”

           “Mickey,” Felicia said with a slap on his shoulder. “He’s the one.” She had always claimed not to believe in love, always cynical about the future, which likely explained why she’d kept this quiet. Boyfriends had only fucked her over in the past. “He’s fucking short, only an inch taller than me, but he never complains when I wear heals. He’s got these stupid tattoos on his knuckles, but somehow I find them endearing.” She went on, and Ian admired the look of love glowing from his best friend. He used to dream about something like that for himself, before he learned that no one would really care about a lunatic. He thought he’s had it with Jacob, but a year into their relationships, and Ian’s meds went haywire, and he was committed for a week. He returned to an empty apartment.

           “I think I’ll ask his sister Mandy to be my Maid of Honor. She’s a kickin girl. Maybe you can be a bridesmaid! We’ll deck you out in a pink frilly dress.” Ian rolled his eyes, because no matter how gay he was, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress. “We’ll make you look so good, Mickey might even take his eyes off me and find you so attractive he leaves me at the altar.”

           Ian waved his hands in refusal. “I don’t want your straight fiancés affection.” There were enough guys that wanted to fuck him not dressed as a girl. He didn’t need to dress in drag to attract men’s attention – oddly enough, gay guys still seemed to dig that.

           “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s got a great cock. He’d tear your ass apart.”

           “Oh come on, I don’t need to hear about your sex life. Now I’ll be staring at his dick when I meet him.” They both knew that Ian was a top, not gold star, he’d fucked around more than he wanted to admit sometimes, but straight cock in his ass was repulsive. For all the guys Felicia never told him about, Ian told her in gory detail about the guys he’d fucked – she was the only person he ran to when he bottomed for the first time without getting paid for it. She always drowned him out with alcohol.

           “Who ways you’re meetin him? You ain’t even invited to the wedding Ian Gallagher.” Felicia waved to the bartender for a refill on both of their drinks, even though he wasn’t quite halfway through his soda. “Fine!” She cried as if Ian had been begging her for the last second of silence. “You can meet him. But no acting all high and mighty just cause you can attract classier guys than me.” This fiancé of hers was Southside, one of the few things he managed to catch while absently watching her lips move. Ian had been born and raised in the Southside of Chicago, but ran and didn’t look back much after he joined the military at 18 – even if that hadn’t worked out for him.

           “Oh come on. That’s a low blow. Just because I hate my family doesn’t mean everyone from the neighborhood is like them.” Ian was 23, not some baby that didn’t understand how the world worked. He had his qualms with his family, but kept it between them. Felicia knew as little as he could get away with telling her about the other five Gallagher kids, and the only thing she knew about the deadbeat parents, was that Monica was dead. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.” He better have been good to Felicia, because she never deserved an asshole for a husband.

           “I’ll set something up when he ain’t working. He works construction; it’s fucking shitty, but as least he makes money.” Ian understood; before he’d gotten the job as a bouncer, he’d sifted through some pathetic jobs that paid the bills, and allowed him to live as far away from his siblings as he could. He hadn’t wanted to chance running into them after he’d left for good when he was 19, upon his diagnosis of bipolar disorder. They looked at him the way they looked at their mom – he was fucking insane.

           “Mickey will hate you. He thinks straight edge guys like you are pussies. Guess he’s not exactly wrong, with you at least.” Felicia knew better than that. Ian had a lot of demons that followed him, but mostly his mental illness; it made him weak in too many ways. It stopped him from partying along with his best friend, and left him home most nights. “We’ll have to get you to help with the wedding, god knows I don’t know shit.”

           “And I do?”

           “Duh, you’re gay.” Ian had never been a stereotypical gay man, but that didn’t make him any less of a fag. He’d never fucking paint his nails, or where make up. Ian would rather spend a day bulking up at the gym; all this after hiding his sexuality for a good chunk of his life. In the Southside, with all the uneducated bigots, racists, and homophobes, it was a death sentence for a gay man to even walk down the street.

           “Hey, shut your face. You’re on your own with the wedding. I’m just showing up to make sure you don’t trip on your dress. Wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself on your wedding day, in front of your husband to be.” Ian finally managed to finish off his coke and put down money for both of their drinks. “Good talk. Can’t wait to meet the guy that puts that smile on your face.” He hugged her tightly as a formal goodbye, and headed out into the burning Chicago cold, and his beat up red Ford that barely ran anymore.

~

~

~

           Felicia and Ian hid together in a dimly lit corner booth, both drinking a beer, albeit Ian was a lot more cautious with his beverage. The brit had insisted they go to a steakhouse, and fill up on a twenty-five ounce steak, and one of each of the deserts for the three of them to split. The best friends saved eating out for special occasions, so that when they did, their bill was well over one hundred dollars, accompanied with a twenty dollar tip. It was just like when he was a kid, and Fiona would run into a bit of extra cash – usually they stuck with buffets. The restaurant was far from fancy, but it was their go-to place, and a couple waitresses recognized them – they only went about four times a year, but they’d been doing so for three years now, and the staff seemed pretty consistent. The booth they sat in was busting apart at the seams, and Ian pressed himself to the wall to avoid sitting on the slash across the middle of his side.

           “So, is Mickey just imaginary?” Ian pointed to the empty spot beside Felicia, and the third, unmoved menu. They’d waited an hour, and his best friend insisted they wait to order, because he promised he’d come, and Felicia still had faith in him. So Ian filled up on the bread the waitress kept bringing buy, and finally ordered himself something other than water. He’d done his best at attempting to not point out Mickey’s obvious tardiness, how bad of an impression Ian was getting of the guy.

           “He’s jus’ runnin’ late. He’ll come!” She was adamant about it, and Ian had no choice but to shut up and sit back with his nearly wasted friend. Felicia was moping, but refused to lose hope on her fiancé, and ordered herself another drink every time the waitress came back. There was a full glass of beer at the seat beside her that she’d ordered along with her first drink, but she left it, because he was fucking coming. Felicia pulled out her phone as her mope broke out into a fattening grin. “He’s jus’ parked. I told ya ‘e was comin’.” He was glad to be wrong.

           Ian hadn’t even seen a picture of the guy, so he hadn’t realized it was Mickey headed their way, until he slid in beside Felicia. His arm fell over her shoulder, and Ian recognized the knuckle tattoos, the only physical attribute she’d given him – this hand read fuck. Their lips slotted together in a brief greeting, and Felicia followed it with a hard punch to the shoulder. “That’s for bein’ late dickhead.”

           “Fucking bitch.” There was a small amount of scruff on Mickey’s chin, and his mop of hair was black, with a hint of something lighter there, and those eyes were a stunning shade of blue – Felicia’s dreamy talk hadn’t done them justice. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly and ran his thumb over her cheek. He spared a glance across the table to Ian, directing his apology to the both of them. Mickey kept his right arm securely around Felicia’s shoulders, but reached his left out for Ian to shake. U-Up was scrawled across the four fingers in the same unsteady spray of unprofessional ink. “You must be Ian. This one talks about you a lot.”

           The handshake was strong, but not threatening, like he’d gotten from other guys when he’d befriended their girlfriends – if Ian was straight, he wouldn’t have a hard time stealing someone’s girl, the amount of times he’d gotten punched assure that. “You’re Mickey,” the redhead pointed out. “Can’t say I knew much about you before, but she’s talked non-stop these last few weeks.”

           “I wasn’t sure she’d ever let me meet you. So, what is it? You don’t seem like someone she should be hiding.” Mickey didn’t say a word when he picked up the lukewarm beer, and finished it in a few long gulps, slamming it harshly back to the table and motioning his finger at someone walking by for another. Pothole duty must have really done a number on him. “I thought my family was crazy, but this girl’s just as batshit insane.”

           They put their orders in five minutes later, and another round of bread was brought around to their table. Ian laid off this time, but Mickey was quick to slather butter on a slice and shoved it down. “This bitch packed me an apple for lunch, can you believe that. How is that supposed to stop my stomach rumbling while I pour concrete into holes? I’d get it if she was a health nut, but an apple is like two fucking calories and no protein.”

           “If you wanted a cook, you shouldn’t be marrying her.” Felicia had tried to make Ian a can of soup one time when he was low – she hadn’t realized that it was a lot different than the flu at the time. She got him moving pretty quickly when his microwave exploded, and she’d tried to heat it up, can and all. “She’s also a slob. Glad it’s you she’d marrying and not me.”

           “Doesn’t sound like you swing that way anyways.” Felicia had always mouthed off about how much a fag Ian was, which usually led to her attempting to set Ian up on dates. He wondered if Mickey had almost been the culprit of the setup, before she realized he was straight and falling head over heels for her. “Must’ve been hard. Southside ain’t the breeding ground for pride parades.” Ian wondered what had been done right for someone that was so obviously dragged deeply into the drugs and violence of that neighborhood, to turn into a guy that could casually sit across from Ian. He still didn’t feel safe walking in his own neighborhood without a knife in his pocket – everyone knew that the redheaded Gallagher was batshit crazy and gay, because the drunks liked to talk.

           “Did you get out?” Ian wasn’t doing much better than his siblings, but he could at least say he managed to move a few blocks away, and officially out of the Southside, even if his roots were still bred in his bones. He avoided that old rickety house on North Wallace, and the memories that dragged with it. The last time he’d gone home was when their mom died, otherwise he made everyone come to him.

           “Kind of. Spend a lot of time back there. My sister’s still there, with our older brother, but I don’t really live there.” Ian recognized the pain their upbringing instilled on everyone, and they could easily swap war stories. They could decide whose parents were worse – he knew Frank and Monica were tame compared to others, even with both of them fucking off all the time, the drugs, and the bruises Frank occasionally gave Ian. “Of course, this girl had her life set with a rich daddy in London.”

           “My father’s money doesn’t say shit about me,” Felicia quipped – she’d never gotten a penny. Each person at the booth was equally broke, despite her background. Felicia had ran off at sixteen, and had only seen her father a handful of times since. “In fact, thing we might have to dine and dash.” They’d done it once, but Ian had felt so guilty, that he’d gone back and left a hundred dollar bill on the hosts’ podium, because he’d had the money to pay. It was a lot different from when he was ten, and Frank and Monica took the five kids they had at the time to some fancy restaurant. Their mom had just come back, after she’d left five years ago, and the group of them obviously didn’t belong – should’ve been kicked out right away for their appearance, because they were definitely too poor to afford it. Frank had ushered him, Lip, and their five year old brother Carl through a window in the men’s restroom.

           “Need I remind you, the cops hate me enough,” Mickey announced, easily dismissing Felicia’s possibly serious idea. “Southside, man. The Milkovich name is akin for trouble.” The last named sparked familiarity in Ian, not that he remember any of them, except maybe the father.

           “Any relation to, uh…Jerry?”

           “Terry,” Mickey nodded. “Afraid to say I’m his blood. I’m his son.” Ian didn’t remember much about the guy, but Ian had seen him hanging around the Alibi, and Frank slurred about plenty of their fights, Monica might have fucked him too. Kev told horror stories about the different shenanigans the Milkovich patrons had gotten into, none of them the innocent childish type.

           “Seem like a handful,” Ian nodded in sympathy, but didn’t spill into the dramatics about their asshole fathers. Frank was a pathetic drunk that left his oldest daughter to raise five kids, and Ian would never forgive him. Even if Ian had found out that his biological father was one of Frank’s brothers, rich and everything, the real dream for anyone that grew up like them. Ian had learned of this when he was fifteen, and much to Lip’s dismay, he refused to confront his father, because he already had his family. Ian Gallagher was never one to take the easy way out. “So, you were unlucky enough to fall for Felicia,” Ian commented with a breathy chuckle. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

           “Couldn’t ask for a better girl to spend my life with.” Mickey’s right arm had still been comfortably around Felicia’s shoulders, and he squeezed her close as he gushed about her. “I’ve lived with a girl like this one all my life. Guess it was just a test run, so I was ready for the real thing.” Mickey seemed genuinely happy, and it shown in the way his smile sparkled in those ocean blue eyes, and his face split as he let out gentle laughs. Everything told Ian that that was the kind of relationship he’d been dreaming of since he’d understood what it meant to be in love. He was glad Felicia was getting her fairytale ending.

           The arrival of the food halted conversation, as the couple seemed starved. Ian had made the mistake of filling up on the complimentary bread, and instead pushed his food around while participating in the conversation between bites. He laughed along with the jokes, and hung off Mickey’s childhood stories, sharing some stupid comments of his own. Nothing was really serious at the table. Ian knew as soon as Mickey stepped in, the dynamic between them would be changed, and they’d now be a trio. It wasn’t something he was ready to give up.

Ok, if you made it through that, please shoot me a message, or reply to this post. I’m just looking for either reassurance that it’s good, or ways to improve.