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Chapter Text

“Come on Monkeys, up you get!” Ian shouted bursting into the boy’s bedroom, “The girls are already done in the bathroom so quit laying around or you’ll be late!” He stumbled across the bedroom floor to retrieve the already standing and babbling Liam from his crib as Carl and Lip moved around like zombies trying to find clothes.

“There’s a hamper of clean clothes in the bath-” and like that Lip was pushing Carl out of the way shouting, “I call first shower” to which Ian shook his head and Carl grumbled, “Hey! He had first shower yesterday!” shooting a pout at Ian.

“Snooze you loose kiddo, not my fault you both forgot we still have hot water right now.” The redhead shrugged, “Come eat, I did toast for everyone then you can get first choice on sandwich filling.” He smiled at Carl and ruffled his hair, leading him downstairs to where the girls were already eating at the kitchen table and set Liam in his highchair where his food was already sitting and handed the spoon to Fiona as he pulled out the fixings to make the kids lunches.

“Fi, I need you and Lip to drop Liam at Head Start this morning, I’ve got the opening shift at the Kash and Grab, since Kash fucked off Linda has made me assistant manager, but I’ll be off in time to pick him up so you don’t have to worry about that. I know you’ve got track before your shift at Patsy’s.” He smiled at the ever responsible 16-year-old.

“Carl, it’s only Monday so how about we make it to at least Wednesday without another detention, huh?” Ian whipped his head towards the 10-year-old hearing something clang at the bottom of the book bag he was placing a bagged lunch in. Ian rooted around for a moment before pulling out a toaster, he looked to the counter where the Gallagher’s appliance sat, then back to the one in his hand. He shook his head and set the device down and eyed Carl with suspicion, but held up his hand when the younger boy opened his mouth. “Don’t tell me, I really don’t want to know, but if it has anything to do with melting other kids’ action figures again just quit while you’re ahead.” Carl hung his head in defeat.

Ian zipped up the kids’ book bags as the 17-year-old senior Lip trudged down the stairs with an arm full of textbooks. “Alright Carl, get your ass in the shower, Debs did you get that math homework finished? Have Fi check it for you. Lip, eat fast, you and Fi will be late if you don’t move soon, Fi pass me Liam I’ll get him cleaned up before you go.”

Ian headed up the stairs with Liam on his hip to get the babbling toddler ready for the day. “Think we gotta take the Browns to the Super Bowl, little man.” Ian laughed as he dodged clothes and toys strewn around the upper level of the house.

The midst of chaos was where twenty-one-year-old Ian was in his prime. When he was younger he’d craved rules and order, a need stemming from the flighty nature of his upbringing, but once the responsibility of taking care of his siblings had fallen to him, Ian had learned to take the chaos in his stride and push through because there was no other choice.

A buzzing from his banged-up old casio wrist watch alerted Ian that it was time to get the kids to school and it had him running back down the stairs with Liam in tow. “Hey guys it’s time to leave!” he yelled, throwing Liam’s belongings into the diaper bag that had seen better days. Fiona came up behind him with a kind smile and the current favorite toy dinosaur of the youngest Gallagher. “Thanks, Fi,” he returned the smile, swapping and giving her the bag and Liam the toy.

“Hey Lip, don’t forget to tell them I will be picking him up today, I don’t need another fight with that damn receptionist because we changed up his pick up schedule again, I don’t have time to wait for them to try to call Frank to let me take him home-”

“Okay man, I got it!” Lip griped back, grabbing Liam from Ian’s arms and shoving Fiona out of the door.

“Have a good day!” Ian yelled to the retreating backs of his siblings as Carl slammed the door shut, last out as always.

“Shit,” Ian swore loudly checking his watch, he was running late now. The redhead gathered his own belongings and ran out of the door, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

When Ian arrived at the Kash and Grab there was already a customer waiting outside; a brunet man about a head shorter than Ian was tapping his foot impatiently and puffing on a cigarette leaning against the window by the door. Ian groaned as he struggled with the latch of the security gate, he could feel the eyes of the waiting man boring into him which made him all the more frustrated when the keys slipped from his hand and fell to the floor as he gracelessly tried and failed to catch them. The man behind him stifled a laugh making Ian feel no better before he was roughly pushed out of the way as the stranger got both the gate and door of the shop open before Ian could even form a sentence.

“The fuck was that?” Ian shot at the man who had already stalked into the store, dropped the keys on the counter, and headed down an aisle to pick up what he needed. Ian recovered himself after a moment, eyebrows still furrowed in suspicion of the man but went about his opening duties until the man appeared in front of him dumping his items on the counter, ignoring the question.

“Heads up man, you’re out of barbeque Pringles.”

Ian finally got a chance to see the man’s face and his gaze was instantly pulled to the bluest and most expressive pair of eyes he had ever seen, but what really made that face unforgettable was the way his eyebrows were cocked high on his head. Ian just knew those eyebrows could say a thousand things more than any word in any language.

“Er- yeah- sorry about that, delivery’s due today.” Ian looked down and began typing the brunet’s purchases into the cash register. The fact that the young man was unfairly attractive with his high cheekbones, cushioned by soft skin, and a tight-lipped sly smile didn’t help Ian’s concentration as he thought about what those lips would look like wrapped around his cock.

“Are you new or something?” The customer asked Ian with his eyebrows now furrowed, and even with his head down Ian could still see them, he felt like he was in one of those childhood dreams where you would forget to wear your pants to school and everyone would be pointing and laughing.

“No, no I’ve worked here since high school, used to only work the afternoon though, but I got promoted to manager since Kash, ahem, left, so now I’ll be opening on weekdays....” Ian rambled, only stopping when the brunet let out a snort of disbelieving laughter.

“You mean when towel head fucked off with that guy he’d been fucking in the back.”

Ian blushed, hard, “Well, no - that’s not exactly-” The shorter man’s knowing eyes widened and he laughed derisively.

“Whatever man, see you tomorrow.” The brunet gave Ian one last searing look and disappeared out of the door.

The rest of Ian’s shift at the Kash and Grab was about as exciting as watching paint dry, so he found his mind wandering back to the blue-eyed man that had upended his morning. Ian had tried his best to not think about the abrupt ending to his affair with Kash when he had up and left on the heels of a man disguised in a burka almost a month ago and the pain of abandonment he had felt all his life came bubbling to the surface.

It wasn’t as though he’d loved Kash, he knew that for certain, but it still hurt. Just like no matter how many times Frank and Monica strolled in and out of his life, he was still left heartbroken and disappointed.

Once his shift was over, Ian didn’t have any more time to dwell on his losses or the handsome stranger as he raced to pick up Liam from Head Start. He fought the rush hour traffic on the ‘L’ to get home in time to throw dinner together for the kids. Ian helped them with their homework as best as he could while trying to do laundry before tucking the youngest three in with a bedtime story for Liam that he knew Debbie and Carl secretly enjoyed listening to because it was something their parents had never done for them.

By 11:00 pm Ian was exhausted and couldn’t wait to crawl into his own bed before doing it all over the next day. Ian flopped down on the couch with a beer in his hand intending to watch some mindless television and drink a beer in relative peace, but before he could even get the bottle opened he was asleep and dreaming fitfully of wide, open blue oceans.

Chapter Text

Tuesday morning began much the same as Monday except, to Ian’s relief, this time Fiona was already at the kitchen table reading and Liam in his high chair eating soggy cereal when he arrived to make coffee and breakfast.

“What’cha doing up so early, Fi?” He asked with a sleepy smile, pecking a kiss to his sister’s temple and trying to see what she was reading.

“I started looking at senior electives yesterday at lunch and I saw this one business finance class that looked really interesting, so I borrowed a book from the library on business management and I got hooked,” she beamed. “Plus I saw you asleep on the couch, so when I heard Liam start fussing I went and got him up so you could sleep.”

Ian returned her smile, “Thanks kiddo, I was pretty wiped yesterday after working those extra hours on Sunday, so I appreciate it.” He dropped another kiss to the top of her head and moved to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Ian and Fiona sat in companionable silence, each of them occasionally conversing with a messily eating Liam until Debbie appeared fully dressed and rearranging her book bag.

“Morning Debs, we got cereal and yogurt today, but I’m going to have to give each of you a Lincoln to get your own lunch, the delivery at work forgot the lunch meat and I didn’t get to the store. I’m sorry,” Ian greeted his youngest sister regretfully, pulling out a five-dollar bill for each of the girls and set two more on the table for the boys.

“Can you two watch Liam for another minute so I can get in a shower before the monster and wiz-kid use up all the hot water?”

The girls nodded around mouthfuls of breakfast and Ian hurtled up the stairs two at a time, thankful he finally had time to wash his hair. But the peace of the steamed-up bathroom, where the only sound was the water raining down on him from the showerhead, was soon broken by the beeping of his watch alarm telling him it was time to wake up the boys. Once the soap had rinsed from his shock of red hair, Ian was yelling at Carl and Lip to wake up and heading back downstairs, checking his watch again.

“Now if it can be like this for the next three mornings, Linda might not have chopped off my balls before the end of the week,” Ian laughed, “You guys alright with dropping Liam again so I can open?” He asks the room at large when the boys appear at the bottom of the stairs, they all nod.

“Thanks, guys, don’t forget to lock up, lunch money is on the table for you Lip and Carl, I’m going grocery shopping after I pick up Liam, electric is due tomorrow and we are about ten short so if you all can check Frank's room for change it would be a huge help. When we all get back tonight I want to hear what you all think of me adding Thursday nights at the bar into my rotation so we don’t have to compromise on the hot water over the winter.”

Debbie and Fiona stood as though they were about to speak and Ian simply held up a hand. “Not now guys, think on it and we’ll talk tonight, have a good day, okay?” He gave them both soft smiles before putting on his shoes and jacket.

“Love you Monkeys.”

“Love you too, E.” they all chorused in return.

Ian arrived at the Kash and Grab with plenty of time to open and yet there again was the short brunet from yesterday. He eyed the man curiously, taking in his appearance this time as he wasn’t in a rush. Ian noted the dirty work boots on his feet, the blue coveralls visible up to his hips where a black hoodie hid the rest of his uniform, and the way both garments were undone at the top showing off the hollow at his neck giving way to pasty but smooth skin that looked like it would bruise all too easily.

Ian looked away, feeling a blush creep up his face. The brunet had caught him staring and sent a raised eyebrow and look that clearly said “what the fuck” his way. Ian never usually cared if he was caught checking out strangers, but then again he was never usually checking out strangers at this job. He fumbled with the keys trying to keep his hands steady while the blue-eyed gaze burned into his neck. At least today he didn’t drop the keys on the floor but for all the luck he was having getting the damn door open he might as well have.

Like yesterday the stranger shouldered him out of the way and easily got both of the doors open and dropped the keys on the counter.

“What the-” Ian was completely taken aback once again at not only his ability to get the doors that Ian had struggled to open, but also his complete shamelessness at taking over a stranger’s job and ignoring the questions that followed. The man had disappeared again following the same path through the aisles of the store as the day before and only reappeared when Ian had his back turned to restock the display of cigarettes.

“Throw me a pack of Marlboros,” the brunet grinned as Ian whipped around so fast he almost toppled over.

Ian was usually graceful and light on his feet for someone of his build, but the surprise of the voice had caught him off guard.

“I’ll take the reds,” he added, thumbing his lower lip, grin still firmly in place. Clearly the customer found this whole encounter amusing if the tone of his voice was any indication.

Ian scowled and jutted out his chin reaching for the cigarettes without looking at the shelf and placing the pack on the counter.

“Tryin’ to show me up for callin’ ya a newbie yesterday, huh?” he chuckled, rifling through his wallet and instead of producing the exact change as he had done yesterday, he handed Ian a twenty. Not wanting to get caught staring again, Ian kept his concentration firmly on their hands as the money was exchanged, but this turned out to be a mistake too because his eyes found the knuckle tattoos on each hand which took him a moment to realize spelled ‘fuck u-up’. Ian stifled a laugh and the guy continued to grin.

“Well that’s a new one, don’t get many laughs outta that,” he wiggled the free hand that wasn’t holding his wallet.

“If you wanna survive on the Southside you can’t be scared of a bit of ink,” Ian shot back, locking eyes with the brunet forgetting he was supposed to be not allowing himself opportunities to let his eyes roam.

“Think you’re a tough guy do ya, Red?”

That raised eyebrow look from outside the store was back and it had Ian’s stomach flipping. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch that pale skin, to see if it really was as soft as it looked, and kiss those plush pink lips, and…‘Not here’. The voice of reason in Ian’s mind finally shouted, reminding him he wasn’t at the other job, this was the South Side in a dingy convenience store, the people who walked in here weren’t looking for the same things. He sighed and counted the change back to the stranger, eyes never leaving the currency as he counted aloud, but from the corner of his eye, he could still see that sly smile and raised brow.

“Later Red.”

His head snapped up as the bell over the door rang indicating the man was almost gone.

“Ian,” he shouted after the dark-haired man.

“Later, Ian,” he responded without looking back.

Chapter Text

Ian couldn’t stop the tender smile that was stuck on his face for the rest of the day. In retrospect, it seemed stupid to be beaming about a boy who’d said no more than a dozen words to him, but the exchange had him buzzing. He’d been acting as parent to his five younger siblings full time for five years now, with only a brief reprieve in the form of Monica during the last month of her pregnancy with Liam and the 2 months she had stuck around after he was born before she took off again.

He didn’t resent his siblings, in fact, he loved them very much, so much so that some days it felt like the youngest three were his own kids rather than siblings. He had to admit though that essentially being the full-time single parent of five meant he had little time for himself and more often than not, if he wasn’t out scamming with Lip to make a little extra on the side, he was catching up on the sleep he’d lost from trying to look after everyone else before taking care of his own needs.

Somehow Ian managed to ride the high of his interaction with the tattooed man through the rest of his shift, picking up Liam and rushing through the grocery store, all the way until he walked into the Gallagher kitchen where Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Carl were sitting in an uncomfortable silence and Ian remembered what they had to talk about tonight.

“Alright guys let me get dinner going then we can talk.” Ian sighed heavily, setting Liam down in his playpen which was full of toys and smiled weakly at the kids. They nodded in unison and returned silently to their homework, though no sounds of pens on paper or turning pages could be heard in the quiet kitchen indicating they were more or less staring blankly at their work.

Once the noodles and sauce were done, Ian set the pot on the table along with bowls and forks and sat down heavily.

“Here’s what’s going on okay. Some of the moms at Head Start were saying the city is talking about shutting down the community center, which means that’s the end of early Head Start.” He sighed tiredly. “Because Liam’s not old enough for the Head Start program at the school, this means we will have to either find someone to watch Liam, or I have to quit working at the Kash and Grab ‘cause Linda needs someone who can open, or we have to find daycare which doesn’t come cheap. So, we need to get ahead of this now and the best way to do that is me picking up more bar shifts.

“I know you guys hate when I work evening jobs because you all can’t go out. Fi, I know you want to see your boyfriend, and Lip, you wanna do whatever the fuck it is you do with Karen or whoever and I know it sucks, but if I don’t do this now, I’ll be working seven days at the club then you’ll never get to go out. So unless you know someone who will watch Liam five days a week, 52 weeks a year, I suggest you all agree to this or we will never have hot water and cable again.”

Ian hadn’t meant to get so riled up. He just didn’t want to have to go back to the days of having to shut off the furnace and the heating. It has been bad enough when they were young and Ian didn’t know how to support them all yet, but he’d come so far since then and he couldn’t stand making them suffer when there was something he could do about it.

The kids were quiet for a long minute, exchanging furtive looks in a silent conversation before turning back to Ian.

“What if Lip and I trade off Thursdays, take turns unless I have a swim meet then we will switch?” Fiona suggested carefully, eyeing Lip as though assessing his response to her suggestion.

“That sounds fair to me,” Ian nodded, turning to Lip.

“Yeah man, that works,” Lip shrugged, “you’re just stretching yourself real thin man, five days at the store, three days at the bar, not to mention all the other shit we got our hands in, for the record, I don’t like this,” he grumbled, looking Ian hard in the eyes.

Ian looked down, “Yeah, well, we gotta do what we gotta do, ain’t like we got anyone else to do this shit for us. Not like Frank and Monica are out there bringin’ home the bacon or what the fuck ever,” he shrugged, not yelling anymore but making it clear the situation wasn’t changing anytime soon.

Debbie snuffled and they all turned their attention to her. “Why do you always say Mom’s not coming home,” she croaked.

“I’m sorry Debs, okay, just look at it this way, when was the last time she and Frank were both around for more than a couple weeks at a time? I know you miss ‘em, we all do, but we gotta do this ourselves, Debs, we can’t just sit around and wait.” Ian sighed, getting up and hugging Debbie from behind. “I love ya kiddo, we just gotta do this ourselves and I know we can, right guys?” Ian looked to the others until they nodded.

“Yeah, we got this Debbie, don’t worry about Mom and Frank okay, they’ll be back,” Fiona whispered gently into her sister’s ear, taking over from Ian holding her.

The rest of the Gallaghers’ evening was a quiet one after their intense conversation over dinner and still, by the time he was heading up to bed, Ian was emotionally drained. Not for the first time, Ian was glad to have his own bedroom because right now all he wanted to do was cry. In front of the kids, he kept a tough face, but underneath he was starting to crack under the pressure.

It had been 18 months since they last saw Monica, and Frank had been even more flighty than ever after Monica’s latest disappearance. He had been trying to keep it together, but hurdle after hurdle was thrown up in front of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. Ian’s emotions had taken their toll on him and before he knew it, he was asleep and dreaming fitfully of wide, open blue skies.

Chapter Text

By Thursday the Gallagher household was back in its routine, or rather getting used to its new one. Now that Ian was working early mornings for the first time in a while everyone had needed a moment to adjust. They seemed to have taken a few days to get back into the swing of things after the hectic weekend which had included Debbie’s birthday and Ian working an extra bar shift on Sunday night to pay for the cake and small party they’d hosted in the yard for the last weekend of pool season. It had barely been warm enough to be in the crude Gallagher pool, but the kids hadn’t seemed to notice and that was good enough for Ian. He was always pleasantly surprised when the kids were happy with the meager offerings available and somehow they always saw the best in a situation, and for that, he was both grateful and proud.

“Alright monkeys, lunches are ready for you. Fi, I got Liam’s diaper bag all set to go and Lip you’re on pick up right?” Ian shot a stern glance at his oldest brother and sister.

“Yeah we got it man, don’t stress, today is gonna be long enough as it is,” Lip responded around a mouthful of cereal.

“Okay okay, I trust you, I’m leaving now, I might have time to come back and nap before my shift at the bar tonight, so when you all get back from school try not to act like a circus, yeah?” he said pointedly to Carl, which sent Debbie into a fit of giggles.

“Alright love you all, see you in the morning!” With that, Ian picked up his backpack filled with his own packed lunch and uniform for his second job and hurried out of the house.

Ian was hurrying out, despite the fact he knew he knew he wasn’t running late, but what was bothering him was that even though the two days previously he had arrived at the Kash and Grab plenty early to open the man with the puzzling blue eyes and expressive brows had still been there before him and yesterday he had taken the keys from Ian’s hand before he even got a chance to try and open up the locks and simply strolled right into the store as though nothing had happened. Ian was frustrated but no less curious as the days went by.

With a satisfied smirk when he noticed he was first to arrive, Ian began his fight with the security gate protecting the front entrance of the Kash and Grab, making a mental note to remind himself to inform Linda it needed to be fixed. Why hadn’t he done that the past four days? Those blue eyes really had thrown him off his game.

It took far longer than Ian would ever admit to get the gate open and by the time he was walking in the brunet had caught up with him and Ian heard a small snigger from behind him. Ian spun around, finding himself a lot closer to the shorter man than he was expecting and froze stock still, his own green eyes instantly drawn to those icy blue and his heart was racing. Obviously, he had been silent a moment too long because another taunting laugh passed those thin pink lips and Ian shivered as he felt like he was being x-rayed by the intense gaze of the other man.

“12 minutes, tough guy.”

“What?” Ian blinked rapidly trying to clear his dazed mind.

“12 minutes to get the doors open, it’s a record,” the brunet mocked, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips and Ian’s eyes were drawn in again.

“Yeah well, my locksmith was late,” Ian shot back with the same teasing in his tone.

“Sounds like I’m gonna have to start chargin’ for my services.” He winked, finally sidestepping around Ian to head to his usual aisle to collect his items.

Once the shorter man had walked away Ian let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, his skin feeling almost cold without the other man close, a feeling which he was sure was in his mind until he saw the goosebumps on his skin making his eyes widen.

“Come the fuck on, Firecrotch, before I turn gray and my dick shrivels like a damn prune!”

Ian felt a blush creep up his neck having been caught in a trance, again. He hurried over to the counter, observing the raised eyebrowed grin of his favorite customer and quickly counted out his change, ignoring the knots in his stomach.

“Later, Red,” the dark haired man winked and was out the door before Ian could respond.

A loud groan left Ian as he left his whole body to relax back against the shelves filled with cigarettes behind him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had embarrassed himself like this in front of a boy -a man- honestly, he wasn’t sure he ever had. He was acting like a teenage boy with a crush in front of this undeniably hot man who Ian wasn’t even sure was flirting or if he was just naturally charming.

God, it was frustrating.

All Ian wanted to do was kiss those perfectly pink lips, run his hands through the thick dark brown hair, lick down that smooth fair skin… He groaned again, trying to clear his mind of inappropriate thoughts of a man who’s name, he realized, he didn’t even know. Fuck, Ian really needed to get laid tonight. Clearly, it had been way too long.

Generally, Ian worked from 7am to 3pm and covered extra under the table if Linda asked, which usually wasn’t a problem but tonight was his first Thursday shift at the bar, and not being the weekend his hours would be different. Getting to the bar to start at 8:00 pm on a Friday after his morning at the store was no problem, but tonight he had to start at 6:00. He tried to explain this to Linda over the phone at 2:30 as she tried to persuade him to stay an extra two hours so she could do something with the boys. This led to a rant about her needing to be able to depend on him and Ian shooting back his own kids needed to be able to depend on him. That had ended the conversation, and by 3:30 Ian was heading back to the Gallagher house to make a quick dinner for the kids before heading to the bar.

Chapter Text

Ian arrived at the bar with barely enough time to spare. He pushed his way through the surprisingly large crowd considering the early hour. He supposed Thursday nights were filled with lonely queens that couldn’t face going back to their empty homes after work, so they ended up here. Here was not where Ian had ever planned to be at 21. When he was a kid Ian had big dreams; joining the army, being an officer, traveling the world, but now he was here; the Fairy Tail, a gay bar and club where Ian was a dancer. Formally he was a go-go dancer and bartender, but most nights on the job he was a stripper, collecting extra tips offering private dances for middle-aged clients who craved the attention of young, fit men.

Some days being on that little stage dancing and losing himself in the music, Ian felt free. All his problems would disappear for a short while and make him feel like he was just a normal 21-year-old dancing in a club surrounded by his friends, maybe making eye contact with some hot young guy across the room, checking each other out because they wanted to, not because it was his job. But this was Ian’s job; to make every man in the room feel special. As if he was only there for them, and the room wasn’t filled with a couple of hundred other people all desperate to buy the attention of a young twink.

If only 15-year-old Ian could see him now. Would he still have made the same choice? To drop out of high school, throw away his own hopes and dreams to take care of his siblings? What a ridiculous question, of course he would, every time.

Three hours into his shift, Ian was starting to feel the heat, not just the heat of the stage lights but the heat from the eyes of his audience. The onlookers were never subtle but tonight their gazes were making his skin crawl in an unpleasant way. One of the only saving graces of this club, as opposed to all the other ones in Boystown, was that they all worked in pairs. While one was on stage, another worked the crowd offering private dances and Ian was happy that by the end of the song his partner was back and ready to switch.

With a grateful smile Ian jumped down from his small stage and headed over to the bar. Right now he could really use a beer, or a shot of something stronger, but he was reluctant to drink when he had to be back at the store first thing in the morning. Instead, he requested a tall glass of ice water and leaned back against the bar, chatting to the bartender, Dean, for a moment before he was forced to return to his rounds of the room.

“Yo Curtis, looks like you’ve got an admirer there,” Dean chuckled, nodding his head to the other end of the bar.

Ian rolled his eyes, every man in the place was an admirer, but his eyes followed Dean’s line of sight anyway and he was happily surprised to find the blue eyed man from the store staring right at him. Tonight he wasn’t wearing the scruffy coveralls and oversized hoodie, instead he was in sinfully tight dark-wash jeans that hugged his ass in a delicious way, and a black button-up tucked in with the sleeves folded up to the elbow clinging to thick biceps.

Well, that answered his previous question as to whether or not the man was flirting with him the last few mornings, the look on his face cleared that one right up. Ian couldn’t help himself as he sidled up to the young man, pressing in close to his back, chin almost resting on his shoulder, lips almost touching his earlobe.

“Imagine my surprise when I discovered my favorite customer was a fan of my work,” Ian said in the brunet’s ear, his voice dropping an octave lower, practically purring.

He saw the man’s tongue dart out and wet his lips, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Didn’t realize strippers had day jobs.”

The retort was clearly meant to be biting, Ian realized, but the older man’s response was little more than a whisper.

Ian grinned. “Can’t spend my whole day in gold sparkling shorts, can I? Gotta assimilate, learn how the other half lives, not sit up on my pedestal all my life enjoying the attention of middle America.”

The tattooed man chuckled. “I hope life at the bottom isn’t too dull for you, looks like your life with the bourgeoisie is far more glamorous than the Southside. You wouldn’t find all that glitter and gold in Canaryville that’s for sure.”

“You know, I never did catch your name,” Ian said.

“That’ll be because I never gave it.”

“You gonna?”

“Depends what you’ll do if I don’t.”

“I could make you give it,” Ian replied.

“Oh yeah, how’d you figure that.”

“I can be very… persuasive.”

“Do your worst, Firecrotch.” The blue-eyed man raised his eyebrows competitively, but with a flirty smirk that Ian took as his consent. With fire in his eyes, Ian grabbed onto the collar of the brunet’s shirt and steered him to the nearest available couch, pushed him down into the cushions, and climbed over his lap.

Ian settled his arms on the back of the couch, boxing the other man in and began rolling his hips fluidly, each time he came down he was just a hairsbreadth from gold shorts touching dark denim. His heavily kohled eyes locked on those icy blues that were quickly dilating, his own chest feeling tight. It was very, very rare for Ian to be at all affected by giving a lap dance these days. In the beginning, it gave him a little thrill to make men feel this way, to clearly see the arousal on their faces and in their pants, but being this close to the older man, practically touching the wide chest and thick thighs, had Ian panting and it wasn’t from exertion.

Bringing his face down, Ian nuzzled his nose close into the dip of the others collar bone and licked a stripe up over his pulse point and up behind his ear, pausing at a spot that had made the other man groan, Ian smirked and began to suck, not quite hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that hands were reaching out and grabbing at his waist attempting to pull his hips down to draw their crotches together.

Ian pulled back with a grin firmly planted on his face, finding those icy blue eyes now looking like the eye of a storm the way the pupils were blown wide.

“You know what I want,” Ian hissed.

“Fuck-” the man below him shivered.

Ian raised his eyebrows, eyes unmoving.

“Mickey.”

With that Ian ground down into Mickey’s lap, and they both moaned in pleasure at finally getting the friction they needed. continuing his dance but now with their bodies connected at as many points as possible, running his hands over Mickey’s thighs, slowly trailing up his chest feeling the firm abs and pecks hidden away, over the back of his shoulders and finally landing tangled in his hair and crushing their mouths together for a hot passionate kiss.

Their tongues tangled together, consuming each other, trying to commit the taste to memory, teeth clashing messily as they gave in to the hunger and Ian continued gyrating his hips, ensuring their cocks were pressed together, the bulge in Mickey’s jeans growing and Ian’s hardness obvious in his tiny gold shorts, just moments later they were spilling into their respective pants and each man panting heavily, head spinning.

Ian let his weight fall to Mickey’s thighs for a moment as he tried to gather his strength, spent from balancing over Mickey for the longest lap dance he had ever given and the rest of his body boneless from his orgasm. He could see the blush in Mickey’s cheeks just as he could feel the heat on his own. It was pretty embarrassing that two grown men had just come in their pants, but his mind was screaming ‘fuck it this guy was hot’ and he’d been thinking about this all week and he didn’t exactly have as much time as he wanted to go out and get laid.

Coming down from his euphoric high, Ian looked around as if suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, but nobody was paying them any mind, this was a gay club in the heart of Boystown where dancers were paid to give lap dances and private strip shows in back rooms while patrons got just as hot and heavy with each other. But Ian was on the clock and none of those one-on-one activities were supposed to be free, he was supposed to collect money from the Johns’ giving part to the club and keeping a tip for himself.

This wasn’t a job though, what he’d done with Mickey he would never do for money, no matter how desperate he was, and not with this man, nothing with this man felt like a job. Seeing him every morning at the Kash and Grab didn’t feel like a job, it felt like the best part of his day no matter how wrong it felt to feel like this about a customer…

Shit, Mickey was his customer at his two steady jobs. Mickey wasn’t there for him, this wasn’t about Ian, he was here to get drinks, maybe a lap dance and probably would find someone to go home with at the end of the night. Fuck. How did Ian always seem to let his imagination run away with him?

He got off Mickey’s lap moving so fast you’d think he’d been electrocuted and he half ran through the crowd to the quiet locker room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. fuck, fuck!” Ian swore, punching the bank of lockers lining one wall of the dressing room, thanking his lucky stars it was the busiest part of the night and all of the dancers were busy serving drinks when they were between sets so he was alone. He sank to the dirty floor, knees bent to his chest and dragged his hands through his hair and groaned. How could he be so stupid? “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself not even bothering to look up when the door swung open.

“Hey, Firecrotch.”

Well, this wasn’t what Ian was expecting, he looked up not quite meeting Mickey’s eyes.

“Ya’ know, I’m glad I’m not crazy,” Mickey said.

A confused look plastered Ian’s face.

“I knew I recognized ya from somewhere when I saw ya at the shop Monday an’ I’ve been tryin’ to figure it out all week and today I finally put it together. I’ve seen ya dancin’ here before.” Mickey had a huge smile on his face as if he was the smartest man alive.

“Came here hopin’ I was right, looks like I was.” His grin was ludicrous Ian decided, and fuck, he couldn’t get enough.

“Curtis is a terrible stage name, by the way, and ya should probably tell your boss to start vettin’ John’s better, I told that dick for brains ya invited me back here for a private show and he just let me walk on in.” Mickey shook his head like a parent disappointed in their child.

Ian burst out laughing. This whole situation was absolutely ridiculous to him, like some kind of exaggerated alcohol-fueled dream. He pinched his arm to make sure he really was awake.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want from me Mickey, but I’m not a prostitute, what happened out there isn’t something I usually do, guess I just got caught up in the moment. It’s been a while since I’ve had more than a quick blowjob in the bathroom so let’s forget about it, I’m not going to charge you because I don’t want this to be a thing, so how about I just see you tomorrow, or whenever you’re next at the store and I’d really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone at the place about this; nobody else knows. Thanks.” Ian blurted out and, before Mickey had a chance to react, Ian was up off the floor and pushing past him back out into the bright lights and the blaring music.

Chapter Text

Friday morning Ian woke up feeling like he’d been in a bar fight. He’d spent the rest of his shift with everything dialed up to an eleven and accepted more drinks from patrons than was smart but he had needed to drown out everything to do with Mickey Milkovich and for the most part, it had worked, except every time he saw a stocky brunet in the crowd, he’d pictured those stormy blue eyes and felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise up again, but it was never him and that made the whole cycle of trying to forget start over again.

He moved slowly trying to pull his head out of the fog, trying hard to pull himself together, but his whole body ached and his siblings didn’t help with that. They were rowdy, as usual, and Lip kept giving him sideways glances he pointedly ignored. He knew he was going to miss his train to work, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to run the last few hundred feet to make it before the doors closed.

The rest of Ian’s day continued in the same manner because, of course, Mickey wasn’t there when he arrived at work, so after struggling for ten minutes to get the doors open he was late getting the shop open and he knew he’d be in for a scolding from Linda at lunchtime who would check the log and see he was late.

The chiding he received was more like that of a parent disappointed in their child than a boss talking to an employee. It felt bizarre to Ian to be talked to in this manner, he was very acutely aware Frank was disappointed in all of his offspring who had not followed in his footsteps, but Ian could barely remember the last time the man had done any real honest parenting, so this conversation was dredging up all kinds of memories and feelings Ian thought he had long since packed away neatly into little boxes in the back of his mind, never to be opened and explored again.

Great. A head full of Frank and Monica was exactly what he needed on top of his already sour mood he had pinned on his slowly receding hangover. It was not going to be easy to wipe the grimace off his face in time for his shift at the club.

As predicted Ian didn’t see Mickey at all that day at either of his places of work. Saturday and Sunday meant only shifts at the club so by the time Monday morning rolled around Ian was almost wondering if Thursday night had been some elaborate dream. Or a nightmare sent to taunt him, waking him with morning wood four days in a row in a way he hadn’t since he was a teenager. He was tired of the looks Lip was giving him almost constantly, so once he was done making lunch and breakfast for the kids he was out of the door and on his way to work almost thirty minutes early.

Nothing could have prepared Ian for the feeling of relief that flooded through him at the sight of the hooded figure blowing puffs of smoke out into the cool Chicago air. He didn’t even feel the grin eclipsing his features, wide causing dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles up by his eyes showing that exhaustion had taken its toll on him, as he got closer, jogging the last few feet.

“Hi, Mickey,” Ian greeted, an unusual nervousness to his tone, about to ask why he was there so early, but he didn’t want to push, it wasn’t like they were friends.

“Red,” Mickey nodded in acknowledgment, watching Ian carefully. Instead of moving to open up the doors, Ian had leaned back against the wall beside Mickey pulling out his own cigarettes and lighting one up, taking a long drag and closing his eyes, letting the smoke warm his lungs and a calm settled over him that he hadn’t felt since he heard that Head Start might close down.. The boys finished their smokes in companionable silence.

“My locksmith was missing Friday,” Ian hedged gently as he riffled through his pockets for the keys.

“Locksmiths don’t work Fridays, we work Saturdays instead.” Mickey shrugged with an ease Ian had not expected. In fact, Ian half expected no verbal answer at all, at most a shrug or a raising of the eyebrows, he smiled feeling pleased with himself for getting a response from the man, so he continued more eagerly now.

“Did the locksmith decide what payment was owed for services rendered?” He continued with a satisfied smile when he found the keys and handed them directly to Mickey.

Quirked eyebrows responded this time before a huff that hid a laugh, “I think ya paid in full Thursday night, Firecrotch.”

A blush that rivaled his hair raced up Ian’s neck and to his cheeks but he still managed to roll his eyes sarcastically when Mickey turned back to him, actually handing him the keys today rather than marching right in and throwing them on the counter. Somehow this felt like a win to Ian.

“I think the payment more than covered services rendered. I’m startin’ to think you’re ready for a lesson in locksmithin’ your’self.”

“Ready I am, Master.” Ian nodded dutifully to which he received a look that said in no uncertain terms “fuck off dork.” causing the Redhead to laugh far too loudly for the hour of the morning and got him a playful shove in return.

The boys entered the store continuing their usual routine and once Mickey got to the register with his purchases Ian asked the one question that had been on his mind since their first encounter.

“Alright, if you do owe me, why don’t you tell me how exactly you know how to get the shitty old locks to this place open?”

Mickey grinned. “A’ight, really wanna know? I broke in here a few times back in high school, they ain’t exactly updated security since.” He laughed dryly as Ian’s eyes widened.

“You’re Mickey Milkovich, aren’t you.” Ian smacked himself in the face.

“Hole in one Gallagher.”

“I never told you my last name.”

“You ain’t the only one with more than half a brain cell. The second ya told me Ian, I remembered the scrawny little fucker from the grade below me. Wondered what happened to the oldest of the thousand Gallagher shitheads comin’ up behind me. Though I gotta say, never woulda pegged ya for that scrawny little nerd ‘till ya said your name... ya grew up good, Gallagher.”

The look Mickey had on his face then made Ian’s blood boil and he had to take a deep breath to reorientate himself.

“I’m flattered, Mickey Milkovich remembers me,” Ian teased, which earned him the highest raised eyebrows he’d seen yet.

“Fuck off” was the only response he got, but Ian soldiered on because it was lacking any real bite.

“Never woulda pegged you for gay back then, isn’t your dad that raging Nazi?”

This time Ian realized he had pushed too far when he saw the open playful face in front of him harden into something he recognized from his youth; the expression of a Milkovich out for blood, something he’d been taught to avoid at all costs from all the kids in the neighborhood, and even Frank.

“Sorry- I-” Ian tried, but Mickey shook his head.

“Leave it, Gallagher,” he snapped, and before Ian could open his mouth again Mickey was out of the shop and Ian’s heart sank to his shoes.

Just when he thought things were turning an interesting corner he had gone and ruined any chance he had of learning more about his favorite customer.

Ian was sure he’d never see Mickey Milkovich again.

Chapter Text

To his pleasant surprise, Ian found Mickey outside the Kash and Grab the next morning, working the flint of his lighter over and over, staring at the spark as he puffed on a square he clearly hadn’t even noticed had burned down to the filter.

“Hey, Mickey.” Ian smiled with his best attempt at nonchalance which must have been terrible if the raised eyebrow directed his way was any indication.

“He’s got 25 to life upstate,” Mickey stated matter-of-factly, not meeting Ian’s eyes.

It took everything in Ian for him to resist reaching out for the brunet and pulling him in for a hug. It was hard for Ian to rein in his need to protect and care for others, being so used to looking after his siblings and he often got so caught up in that caretaker mode.

“Frank will be pleased, pretty sure he owed Terry money.” Ian mused.

“He ain’t the only one, the fuckhead deserves it, hope the cocksucking bastard gets shanked in his sleep,” Mickey responded dryly.

Ian was stunned for a moment, he hated Frank, sure, but he didn’t actively wish him dead. Then he remembered all the neighborhood stories of Terry Milkovich and the things he did to his kids and if even half of those stories were true, he certainly did deserve it.

“I suppose ’m just gonna have to find some other shark that Frank owes money to to keep him moving and not sitting pretty at home mooching off us.” Ian said, attempting to lighten the mood with an amused tone of voice, but it came out more depressed than anything else which earned him another eye roll.

“Don’t know why ya don’t just dump the asshole in the river, not like he’d be missed,” Mickey snorted.

“Sadly the little ones don’t know better yet, Carl, and especially Debs don’t realize he’s never gonna stay or put ‘em first. Me and Lip and Fiona know better but then there’s little Liam who doesn’t always recognize him; he’s started callin’ me Dad so fuck knows what Frank is gonna do if one day he comes around tryin’ ta take him out panhandlin’ an’ Liam is scared of him thinkin’ he’s a stranger.” Ian shrugged, staring off into space thinking about his younger siblings who had never known real family and he still didn’t know if that was better or worse than him being able to remember a time when Frank and Monica were both around, even if it was only for a short amount of time.

“Well they better get fuckin’ used to it, all Southsiders are shit parents,” Mickey shrugged as though that was the end of it and Ian found himself nodding in agreement as he tried to remember any examples of good parenting he’d seen.

The Gallaghers neighbors Kevin and Veronica were the best Ian could think of and they weren’t even parents and were only a few years or so older than him, but they had helped them out of some tight spots and Vee had taken on a big sister role with Fiona which Ian could never repay her for. Fi needed a female role model, someone she could ask all those questions young women had because Monica certainly wasn’t around to help. He wondered idly what he would be like as a father, not a kid raising his own siblings because he had no choice, but rather if they were his own children he’d chosen to have. He did his best but he knew everything would be so different if that was the case.

“Keep thinkin’ that hard and you’ll hurt yourself, Gallagher.” Mickey’s laugh broke through Ian’s train of thought and he was honestly relieved for the distraction.

“Yeah well with Frank as my dad I’m lucky to even have two brain cells to rub together so be thankful I can think at all,” Ian shot back, nudging the other with his shoulder, the physical connection lasting longer than it should, but after a pause, Mickey jostled him in return and being a Gallagher, Ian couldn’t let that stand, leaving to the two boys, men really, grappling at each other, neither willing to say uncle, their laughter echoing in the sleepy street.

Chapter Text

This pseudo friendship with Mickey was as surprising as it was welcome to Ian. never in his life would he have expected to become friends with a Milkovich, but this friendship was also unlike any other he’d ever had. They teased each other jovially and wrestled playfully at any chance they got. If Ian let his mind linger on it too long he’d say it was flirting, but as it was his mind was occupied enough he didn’t have time to take pause and think about what they were doing. It was easy and it made him happy and it was a very long time since he’d been able to say that about any part of his life and he couldn’t bear to bite the hand that fed him.

A few Saturdays later Ian found himself running to the Kash and Grab before opening time, despite it being his day off, hoping against hope Mickey really did work Saturdays and continued his weekday tradition of shopping for his lunch before work. Ian was there first, no Linda or Mickey in sight, so he paced on the sidewalk, rolling a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger agitatedly. What seemed like an eternity later, Ian finally heard footsteps he recognized as those heavy workboots Mickey wore every day. Was it messed up he could already recognize that sound - probably, did he care - not one bit.

“Whatcha doin’ Red?” As Mickey got closer, Ian could see that his eyebrows were not raised the way they usually were but instead furrowed together in a look Ian did not understand.

“I was wonderin’ if there’s a chance your locksmith skills are available after hours? I know you gotta work but if you can come by after or somethin’? I just really need- I need to replace a door and me and Lip could really use some help. I know you’re working, but after, and we’ll pay you, we just really need the help. Our neighbor Kev, who usually helps us with this shit, has a broken leg and-”

Mickey looked at Ian as though he had grown a second head. “Slow the fuck down tough guy take a fuckin’ breath. Tell me what the fuck happened.”

Ian looked smaller than Mickey had ever seen him, as though he became that freckled lanky kid with the curls he remembered from grade school.

-Flashback-

“What are you doing here Frank?” Ian heard Lips yells echoing through the house, he finished changing Liam and handed him off to Fiona.

“Stay put guys, let me and Lip handle Frank,” he told the younger Gallaghers sternly.

“What the fuck do you want, Frank?” Ian shouted at their poor excuse for a father.

“I’m going to take my son out for the day. None of your business where,” Frank snapped back.

“You’re not takin’ him anywhere Frank, it’s five fuckin’ am, why aren’t you passed out in a gutter somewhere.” Lip burst out.

“Yeah, that’s not happenin’.” Ian stood at the foot of the stairs with his arms folded over his chest as though physically defending his siblings upstairs.

“He’s not your son, Ian.”

“He’s as good as!”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter who’s kid he is, Frank! Last time you took him for the day, he ended up gettin’ taken by DCFS for a week, we ain’t goin’ through that again,” Lip growled, surprising Ian with his ferocity.

“He’s right, we aren’t doing that shit again, we were lucky to get him back that time, but we aren’t goin’ to be so lucky again, especially since our usual caseworker retired. She knew me, knew us, she cut us slack, Frank, but they could take him away for good this time. I know you don’t give a shit about us, but if you ever did have the slightest bit of Southside loyalty in you, you wouldn’t let them tear us apart, which means walkin’ outta here without Liam. I don’t want shit from you, we are survivin’ just fine without you, but we are Gallaghers and Gallaghers stick together, you told us that, you might not live up to it, but we believe in it, fuck, it’s all we got.”

“Sounds like I’m just going to have to go and find my firstborn, I’m sure she has more respect for her father than any of you cretins!” Frank growled, eyes penetrating; more focused that Ian had seen them in years, though his words made little sense.

“You’re not taking Liam, Dad!” Came a voice from behind them, Fiona was making her way down the stairs, obviously drawn by the yelling, eyes welling with tears. “Ian’s much more of a Dad than you, we don’t want you here! All you ever do is come and drink and eat and steal the money we all work for! I hate you and Mom! All you ever do is leave us!”

A loud smack echoed through the kitchen and stunned silence filled the room for a long moment. He’d finally done it, he’d hit one of the kids and anger ripped through Ian who let out a noise almost animalistic and dove at Frank sending a fist flying, making contact with his nose.

Frank was speechless, looking at Ian as if he’d never seen him before. Ian stood his ground, he and Lip slowly walking towards Frank, boxing him in against the door, who looked like a caged animal, scared, eyes darting around as though trying to find an exit.

“The door’s behind you Frank, use it,” Ian advised in a low voice, his eyes dark.
Lip pounced at Frank hauling him out of the door, but Frank surprised them both, his reactions faster than they ever would have expected. He began kicking and screaming, trying to take advantage of catching them off guard, but Ian was stronger and younger, his height giving him an advantage and he was able to make his fist connect with Frank’s face, knocking him out cold.

“Good shot, man.” Lip grinned, panting hard as they surveyed the damage. The door was battered, the handle and lock looked as though they had been kicked in, leaving a considerable hole in the rotting wood.

“We’re gonna have to pull from the squirrel fund to get that fixed,” Ian sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. Getting a new door and locks was going to set them back a few hundred dollars, money they didn’t have. They lived paycheck to paycheck, barely making it through the winter with the money the kids helped make over the summer.

“What are we gonna do with him?” Lip mused, scratching his eyebrow where he had a cut from one of Frank’s limbs flailing around.

“Let’s just shove him in the yard for now and come up with something temporary for the door, I’ve got an idea, someone who could help us anyway.” Ian shrugged, grabbing his shoes and with Lip’s help they rolled Frank down the stairs on the back porch and left him in the grass.

“Come here Lip, help me push the table in front of the door. that should deter him for a little while. Keep an eye on the kids, I’m going to see if I can get someone to help us with this door, don’t let any of them go out until I get back, you know Frank will get in their heads, especially Carl and Debs. Lock up the front behind me and call if he comes to, yeah?”

Lip nodded and with that Ian had hauled ass to the Kash and Grab.

-End Flashback-

“Shit,” Mickey breathed when Ian had finally run out of steam with his story. “I think I can get ya a sheet of rebar from work, use that to patch an’ reinforce. I can grab a few tools an’ get it done.” Mickey reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell, checking the time. “I can get squared up there an’ get to ya by lunch, think ya can keep Frank out ‘til then?”

Ian nodded like an eager puppy. “Yeah! Shit- fuck- thanks, Mickey, you don’t know how grateful I am, the kids are never safe with Frank around. I mean he’s never hurt ‘em, not physically, but he’s done a hell of a job on their heads and if Liam gets taken, I think it just might break ‘em.”

He lit up another cigarette, passing it to Mickey without a second thought, the dark haired man took a long drag as though it was second nature to him to share with Ian, and they hardly noticed the intimacy of the act, each feeling calmed by it, the taste of the other in the dampness at the tip of the filter.

“Look, I gotta get to work but I’ll be there as soon as I can, you still on North Wallace?” Mickey looked up when Linda approached them from around the back of the store.

“Yeah 2119,” Ian grinned, unable to believe Mickey remembered where they lived. A raised eyebrow met that grin as if Mick knew exactly what he was thinking, but Ian stood his ground, eyeing up Mickey until Linda broke the spell.

“You know you don’t work today, right Ian?” she asked the redhead with a puzzled look.

“Yeah Linda, I just had to ask Mickey here for a favor.” He glanced between the two as she handed Mickey the keys just like Ian did and his mouth hung open which of course earned him another Milkovich special raised eyebrow.

“You know he used to steal from here, Linda?” she laughed at Ian.

“Yes, that’s exactly why I had him change up our security, who better than the kid who managed to break in every other week when he was out being a hooligan.” She smiled kindly at Mickey.

Ian couldn’t wrap his head around this news, watching the shit-eating grin on Mickey’s face.

“You little asshole,” he cried, “you had me thinking the locks were all fucked up this whole time! I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit!” Ian was laughing now, and Mickey looked far too pleased with himself, he just wanted to kiss that smirk right off his lips.

“You really are a goddamn locksmith!” Mickey’s grin only seemed to grow.

“Not quite Gallagher, mechanic-fabricator, I can fix most shit in a minute given the right tools for the job though.” A wink.

Ian groaned audibly and turned around, starting back towards home.

“See ya later, Red,” Mickey called, and Ian could hear the tease in his voice and it put a smile on his face that lasted his whole journey home.

Fuck he had it bad.

Chapter Text

When Ian arrived back home he found the yard empty and was happy to find the house devoid of Frank also. He flopped down on the sofa and closed his eyes, he was exhausted from his shift at the club followed by just two hours of sleep before Liam had woken him up screaming because his diaper was wet and somehow the rest of the house was managing to sleep through his cries, except Lip who had seemingly heard him enter. He’d hoped to get back to sleep, but then Frank was waking up the whole household with his yelling.

Ian let his head fall back into the lumpy cushion on the back of the couch and before he knew what was happening he was being woken up by Debbie. “There’s a guy outside, says he’s looking for you, Ian.” His sisters’ voice pulled him from a dreamless sleep. “He said he’s here to fix the door, but you didn’t tell us you’d found someone so I didn’t let him in-”

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian jumped up stumbling to the front door and found the brunet smoking on the steps with a grumpy look on his face.

“About time, Red. Pippi Longstocking there wouldn’t even fuckin’ tell me what needed fixin’ or tell me where you were at,” Mickey groused, looking behind Ian, glaring at Debbie.

“Sorry Mick, I told them not to open the doors, I fell asleep on the couch. Long night.”

“Yeah, bet you’re tired from gargling old man balls all night,” he taunted but with that secret smile that Ian felt like was his alone every time he saw it.

“Yup,” Ian grinned in return, “come in and I’ll show you the mess, gotta move the homemade barricade before we can get to fixin’ it up,” he explained, helping Mickey pick up the tools and materials he had brought, looking around puzzled by how he’d managed to haul it all here. Mickey seemed to sense Ian’s question, before he even opened his mouth Mickey was telling him.

“Buddy of mine at the shop dropped me off. I always take the L to work, don’t like leavin’ my car in the lot there, some heathen would probably cart her off to a chop shop,” Mickey explained, his look turning sour.

“That means it’s either a piece of shit or way to high end for this neighborhood, ya should see the thing we got rustin’ to death back here, surprised nobody’s tried to break it down for scrap yet,” Ian laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“She’s a thing of beauty, don’t wanna hear ya callin’ her a piece of shit again.”

Ian held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’ve never seen it, I don’t know what other secrets you’re holding on to after this morning’s revelations,” he laughed, enjoying seeing Mickey passionate about something. It looked good on him, Ian decided.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this shit away from the door and I can assess the damage, then you’re showin’ me the rust bucket outside.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yes, boss!” he even added a mock salute, just to see those eyebrows raise again. It felt so good to be himself with Mickey, his life was all-consumed by his younger siblings, caring for them physically and emotionally, but with Mickey he finally got to be a young man barely in his twenties with not a care in the world, existing in a universe where he had the time to let his mind wander from his responsibilities and think about all of the things he’d love to do to the alabaster skin and how those strong looking arms would feel holding him and how tightly those thick thighs would be able to grip his waist as he fucked into that tight bubble butt….

The two worked companionably for a while, Ian was entranced watching Mickey work; measuring, cutting, drilling, giving him clear concise directions when he needed Ian’s assistance, usually to be a second pair of hands to hold or move something. Occasionally one of the kids would come downstairs and watch them work, but would soon wander away again when they realized Ian and Mickey weren’t going to entertain them. Twice Ian had to tell Carl, in no uncertain terms, that he most certainly could not play with Mikey’s nail gun.

A couple of hours later Mickey was brushing the light sweat from his forehead with a rag surveying his work, but Ian hadn’t heard a word, too lost in a bead of sweat running down the back of Mickey’s neck leaving a glistening trail in its wake. Ian licked his lips.

In one fluid motion, Ian pulled Mickey close by the belt loops and without a second thought attached his lips to the smooth, pale neck where the droplet had disappeared into his collar. Mickey moaned, the sound surprising Ian into letting go and stepping back.

“S-sorry,” the redhead stuttered.

“Did it sound like I was complainin’?” The brunet smirked, eyes raking up and down his form, and that was all the encouragement Ian needed before he was attacking Mickey’s mouth with his own.

Their mouths moved together instinctually. It was messy and primal and had them clinging to each other as if they might just float away if they let go. Tongues battled, each trying to assert dominance while trying to taste every inch of each other. Ian felt weak at the knees, clinging to Mickey’s hips hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises that Mickey would find later that night when he crawled into his bed, so he didn’t melt to the floor in a puddle of desire. It felt like an eternity they were pressed together; heat spreading through them, flowing between them, lost in each other.

They must have been quiet for a moment too long because there was a noise like a stampede of elephants as, one by one, Ian’s siblings charged down the stairs forcing the two boys apart.

Lip sent them a knowing smirk as the younger ones crowded around Mickey shouting at once how cool it was he had fixed their door. The brunet quickly caught his awkward expression and Ian dived in to rescue him as he finally resurfaced from his haze of desire.

“Alright monkeys, leave Mickey alone! He did an awesome thing for us so how about you all go play in the back with Lip and Fi, let Mickey relax for a minute before you bombard him. I’ll make us dinner, it’s the least we can do for Mickey, right guys?” Ian grinned at the brunet and licked his lips and Mickey just gave him that raised eyebrow in response.

-Mickey POV-

Surprisingly, Ian moved gracefully around the kitchen, though Mickey shouldn’t be too surprised, he had seen Ian dance after-all, he should have expected this appearance of complete control in his own home. That was another thing Mickey was bewildered by. Here he was sitting in the childhood home of Ian Gallagher, it made him think back to the kid he’d played little league baseball with, the kid who’d asked to borrow a pencil from him in third grade and Mickey had threatened him with bodily harm. That kid had been skinny and awkward with ill-fitting clothes, freckles, and shaggy ginger hair. Now he was tall and ripped with just a light smattering of freckles and slicked back deep red hair that seemed to make his gorgeous green eyes pop even more.

Mickey couldn’t reconcile the child he remembered with the man who had made him come from a lap dance and dry humping like a tween.

Sitting at the breakfast bar nursing a beer, watching Ian put together a huge pan of lasagna made Mickey feel more at home than anything he could remember. His house hadn’t been a home since his mother died when he was 15. Even before that, whenever Terry was around everyone was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now Mickey lived alone, in his own apartment, and it was too quiet, too lonely, too many bad memories to eat away at him at night. Here he felt warm and safe.

-End Mickey POV-

“You’re not a locksmith, but clearly you don’t just fix up cars, tell me what you actually do Mick,” Ian asked the subdued brunet, who looked up in surprise as if he had forgotten Ian was there completely. He didn’t mind, it seemed Mickey was tired, but there was a nervousness about him Ian longed to quell.

“Not much to say really, I started out fixin’ cars at the shop of one of the guys from the neighborhood an’ he said I got an eye for this shit and recommended me for a job in the back of the yards workin’ heavy equipment, you know diggers an’ shit, they had me do an apprenticeship down at Malcolm X ta get certified with weldin’ and I guess I always had a head for numbers so they got me inta learnin’ fabricatin’ too so I ain’t just a wrench monkey now.” Mickey shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal but Ian was fascinated.

“What’s fabricating like?”

“I do all the big shit, like when an easy part replacement won’t do the job or they don’t even make the part no more, I gotta design and make a replacement that’s gonna last. Sorta like what I did for the door there,” he gestured, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, “gotta strengthen the old so it can be whole again and survive whatever’s thrown at it.”

“That’s pretty fuckin’ cool, Mick,” the redhead responded enthusiastically, with a rather impressed look on his face. “Not gonna lie, always thought Milkoviches ended up in the can,” Ian shrugged nonchalantly as if family members ending up in prison was no big deal, and this being the southside, it really wasn’t unusual.

Mickey sniggered, “You're not wrong. I’ve been to juvie a few times, so have my brothers,” he shrugged, “but after Terry got put away for life I figured why not try somethin’ new, see what a legit job was like. An’ if it wasn’t for me, I’d go back to my brothers, but it turned out good.”

Ian could tell Mickey was downplaying it all but he didn’t push, nothing good ever came of pushing when someone wasn’t ready, unless it was his siblings; he was their father figure and he had to keep them safe.

It was easy to sense Mickey’s discomfort at being the center of attention, at least for Ian, so he gently steered the spotlight away from him, a smirk playing around his lips.

“I’m workin’ a double tonight if you wanna come.”

“Sure thing, Firecrotch.” Mickey grinned. “So shop boy by day, go-go boy by night, you got any more secret identities I should know about?”

Ian whipped his head up from where he had been concentrating on shaking garlic powder onto bread for his ghetto garlic toast, eyes moving around the room like a frightened feline. Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed.

“The kids, they don’t know I… dance, they think I’m a bartender, it would kill them if they knew, but bartendin’ doesn’t make what the dancing does, but we need it and I- I don’t want them knowin’ that stuff, so just don’t- don’t mention it here, please?” Ian stammered, not sounding at all like the confident man he usually appeared to be.

“You got it, Gallagher.” Mickey reached out, grazing his fingers down Ian’s forearm, with a soft smile and honest eyes not demanding any more, but simply accepting.

Chapter Text

Dinner, in Ian’s eyes, was an unqualified success. Carl did most of the talking, quizzing Mickey on how his tools could be used as weapons and he managed to artfully doge giving direct answers, for which Ian was thankful. Only a couple of times did Ian have to kick Lip under the table for making some inappropriate comments about how Mickey was a Milkovich and somehow that made him more lowly than a Gallagher.

Later when Ian tried to apologize for Lip’s comments, Mickey merely waved it off with a simple reminder he too had brothers and knew, “what fuckin’ dumbasses brothers can be” leaving Ian sniggering and feeling relaxed knowing Mickey wasn’t holding any animosity towards his family. Though he was once again concerned about Carl when Mickey offhandedly called him, “a little psychopath in training,” which Ian couldn’t deny.

Riding the L together to the Fairy Tail was an odd feeling for Ian. He usually took this time to mentally prepare himself for the night; to get in the headspace where he could protect himself, but left enough to put on a show. It felt rather… intimate having Mickey there in that moment, but somehow it didn’t feel wrong. It was just the right level of distracting.

Dancing with Mickey’s eyes on him, however, was a little too distracting. Too many times throughout the night Dean gave him a hard look that screamed, “take your eyes off him or your clients won’t give you a cent” and he was right, those old men just wanted some young guy to pay attention to them for 3 minutes so they had something they could picture for the next week when they were forced to fuck their wives and if Ian wasn’t even looking at them, he couldn’t give the illusion they were the center of his world.

“So Curtis, you going to let me take you for a ride around the block?” A sultry voice whispered in his ear during his break. Ian didn’t even need to look up to know who was talking.

“Caleb, you know it’s always going to be a no, I don’t do that,” Ian rebuffed in a tired voice. This happened at least once a week, this young guy would sidle up to Ian and make some pathetic come on, hoping to get something for nothing. In the beginning, Ian had preened under the attention of a younger man than most of the clientele in the club, but he soon learned better. It was true what Ian had told Mickey, he didn’t fuck for money, but he also only fucked people he was attracted to and this guy just gave off bad vibes. Not that Ian thought that Caleb would ever hurt him, but the guy just oozed a sickening self-centeredness he had absolutely no interest in.

“Oh come on gingersnap, you know you want on this,” Caleb whined pathetically and until that moment Ian had half-forgotten Mickey was within earshot until suddenly he was standing between Ian and Caleb, though Ian had no idea how he’d gotten there when Caleb was pressing himself against Ian just moments prior.

“Think it’s time you learned to take a hint, fuckface,” Mickey seethed, looking like he was just one wrong word from laying into Caleb, despite the fact the man had at least half a foot on him. Ian couldn’t help but smirk at the way Mickey seemed to be defending his honor.

“Leave it Mick, he’s not worth it.” Ian gently steered the brunet away not even sparing a glance at Caleb.

“He’s harmless, wants what he knows he’s never going to get, he probably gets off on the denial,” Ian sniggered but Mickey didn’t look convinced.

“You know that fuckface?” a raised eyebrow enquired.

“Yeah, he’s a regular, always tryin’ to pick me up, but like I told you I don’t do that shit so just leave it, okay?”

“Fuck that! Ain’t there security here or somethin’?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Of course there is, but unless someone is touchin’ us, they stay out of it unless we signal them and like I said, Caleb is a regular, I know he’s not goin’ to do anything he can’t get away with. Let’s just get outta here Mick.” Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand in an attempt to get him to follow to the back so he could grab his belongings and get them the hell out of here but Mickey pulled back as though he had been stung.

“Hey- what-” Ian eyed him quizzically, but Mickey shook his head firmly and started towards the back rooms of the club. Ian’s body tightened, he didn’t like being in the dark, he didn’t like seeing the look of pain on Mickey’s face, so he hurriedly followed Mickey, hoping to get some answers.

Mickey hadn’t stopped until he reached the door to the employee locker room which was guarded by a different bouncer than the last time Mickey had made his way back here. Mickey hadn’t been able to sweet talk his way through this time and had been forced to wait for Ian.

“It’s okay Jack, he’s a friend.” Ian smiled at the tall, gruff man. He gave Ian a surprisingly friendly smile and moved from in front of the door, letting the two through.

Mickey slouched, leaning back against the row of lockers and not meeting Ian’s curious eyes. Ian felt his chest tighten at how small Mickey looked. Despite being a few inches shorter than Ian, Mickey always seemed to fill any room he was in, at least in Ian’s eyes; It was like simply his personality and the playful sparkle in his ocean blues drew his entire focus so that everything else fell away, and not just the buzzing of the sound of lives happening around them but his own fears just melted away. Right now though, Mickey’s huge personality had shrunk down, hiding itself inside him.

“Talk to me, Mick.” Ian reached out gently to caress Mickey’s jaw, rubbing soft circles on his cheek that felt like velvet under the pad of his thumb, trying to read his schooled expression. When Mickey didn’t push away Ian’s hand it felt like a victory.

“Just forgot where we were for a minute, don’t worry about it, Firecrotch.” Mickey was clearly trying to brush off whatever he was going through; refusing to meet Ian’s eyes.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, you’ve seen my life, Mickey, you helped me when you didn’t have to, let me help you,” Ian pleaded with the brunet, seeing him like this was like a fist squeezing his heart, shrinking his lungs, twisting his stomach.

“I just,” he sighed, “I’ve never let anyone touch me like that-holding my hand- like this,” Mickey put his hand over Ian’s where he was still cupping his jaw. “When I was a kid he- Terry- taught me bein’ gay was one of the worst things a kid could be an’ he beat the shit out of me when he caught me fuckin’ a guy at the house, thought I was gonna die, probably would’ve if my sister hadn’t found me after he passed out drunk. Even though he’s locked up for life, I still don’t let guys do this shit, fuck and leave, that’s all I want. But you an’ me, we didn’t even really fuck, fuckin’ came in our pants like fuckin’ teenagers, now I’m hangin’ ‘round your family an’ fuckin’ eatin’ together.” Mickey shook his head, taking a long deep breath just to try to steady himself.

“But you’re- you’re not just doing that shit for me though, right? You’re not doing anything you don’t want to do, are you?” Ian worried his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darting over Mickey’s face trying to read him.

Finally, Mickey’s eyes found his. “Shit, of course, I’m doin’ it all for you, but I’m doin’ it for you because I want to, because it’s for me too. I ain’t that kid my dad can bully anymore, so I certainly ain’t gonna let some ginger kid tell me what to do,” Mickey chuckled, his face turning up into a smile that reached his eyes; the sky blues getting their sparkle back. “Seein’ you happy makes me fuckin’ happy, alright. That fuckin’ puppy dog grin you get every mornin’ when I’m at the store is the best fuckin’ part of my day, Gallagher.”

“Fuck, Mick,” Ian groaned and before he could think it through, he was pressing his lips against Mickey’s and losing himself completely in the heat of their lips.

Right then and there, Ian Gallagher decided he never wanted to stop kissing Mickey Milkovich.

Chapter Text

“You know, you still owe me a look at that van in my yard.” Ian shot Mickey a grin on Monday morning when they both arrived at the Kash and Grab around twenty minutes before opening.

“Oh, replacin’ your door wasn’t enough, huh?” Mickey raised his eyebrows, showing off his shit-eating grin.

“Nah, my lasagna is definitely worth at least two jobs.” He winked back, a smug smile firmly on his face, daring Mickey to argue.

“Do you now? What if I don’t agree? What if I demand more payment, huh? Whatcha gonna do then, Red?” The way Mickey’s eyes sparkled with mischief just about had Ian dropping to his knees and taking Mickey’s cock down his throat then and there in the middle of the store.

“I supposed I’ll just have to have Linda hire someone else to change the locks so I’m no longer in your debt every mornin’, then come up with somethin’ creative to pay you back for the work on my house.” Ian mused, matching Mickey’s grin. “I can think of a few ways right now, let me know what you think…” He leaned forward pressing his lips to Mickey’s; hearing a sharp intake of breath but, hearing no sounds of objection, Ian continued, reaching his hands up to curl into Mickey’s hair.

“Not a bad method of payment there, Gallagher,” Mickey panted as they broke from the kiss. Before he could say more, Ian had his hands on Mickey’s ass pulling their groin’s flush together, letting Mickey feel the way his cock was stirring through his jeans.

“Damnit, Gallagher, I gotta get ta work an’ you’re about ta have customers any minute.” He pushed Ian back with a rough hand to the taller mans’ chest.

“Come by the house after your shift?” Ian sighed knowing, but hating, that Mickey was right.

“Think I can manage that.” Mickey grinned, leaving Ian staring at his ass as he moved through the store, picking up his usual lunch foods before Ian could fully process the loss of the warm solid body against his own.

“Lunch is on me,” Ian called, letting a smile creep up his face at the knowledge that he would see his favorite brunet again in just a few hours.

The day seemed to drag as Ian putzed around the store with his mind endlessly occupied by thoughts of beautiful, piercingly blue eyes. It was strange as Ian tried to remember young Mickey Milkovich. So much had changed since they had been in each other’s orbits as children; back then Ian had still been young and naive with nothing to concern himself with but little league and homework. But all that had changed so fast when Frank and Monica had disappeared together without a word, and 9-year-old Ian was forced to care for 5-year-old Lip and 4-year-old Fiona for a week until their parents reappeared with a new baby girl they named Deborah.

That was the first time Ian had truly needed to step up for the little ones. Sure Frank and Monica had disappeared before, but usually no more than 24 hours at a time so yes Ian could help them bathe or give them cereal for dinner when their parents forgot, but a week was different. They needed real food, Lip had to be at kindergarten and little Fiona had to be at preschool.

It was the worst week of Ian’s young life.

The three of them ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until Ian noticed some yucky green bits in the bread, instantly throwing the rest in the garbage. They ate cereal until the milk turned sour and ran out of the rainbow-colored Ohs. Ian didn’t do any of his homework that week and ended up in detention every day for the entire week after, he never got enough sleep and the cable was shut off for the rest of the month, but they survived. After that week, Ian knew he could survive anything.

Chapter Text

Mickey Milkovich joining the Gallagher’s for dinner became a frequent affair over the next few weeks. It was more likely you would find him there at the house on North Wallace than at his own apartment in the evenings during the week, and every member of the family seemed to be thriving in his presence. Though, of course, none more so than Ian. He felt like every time he met Mickey’s eyes, he stood a little taller, smiled a little brighter, laughed a little louder, and nobody made him laugh and smile the way Mickey did. They moved around each other instinctually as Ian straightened up the house while keeping one eye on the kids all the while. They were like a team; giving and taking in equal measure in everything they did.

Ian was the better cook of the pair, but Mickey was far better at helping the kids with their math homework. Mickey had even started working on the old van and Ian was elated to see Carl out there with him actually being helpful rather than destructive, with Mickey encouraging him along.
Fuck.

Turns out Mickey Milkovich was great with kids. Just another item added to the list of reasons Ian Gallagher was falling hard.

“You look happy,” Fiona commented from the dining room table where she had been working silently on her homework. Ian was standing still, staring out of the back window into the yard where Mickey and Carl kept working as the sun steadily set, despite the fact winter was briskly descending on Chicago. The sky was a burnt orange behind Mickey’s head casting his face into a shadow allowing Ian to only see a silhouette of the man, but the outline was sharp against the cloudless sky and Ian could see every line of his body making his mouth water. Finally, he turned his tender gaze back to Fiona, feeling his ears burn.
“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

There had been more fast and dirty and oh so hot kisses between the two men as they spent more and more time together, but neither one had broached the subject of more, no matter how much they struggled to catch their breaths or how hard they both were by the end of one of their make-out sessions, one of them always seemed to pull back just in time before they gave in and crossed over that line that could never be uncrossed.

It wasn’t a lie, Ian was happy. For the first time since dropping out of high school, he had a friend his own age who wasn’t his family (or practically family, like Kev and Vee) to spend time with and be himself around. It just so happened this friend was a man who was so breathtakingly beautiful in every sense of the word and most assuredly gay, leaving Ian to wonder just where they stood.

But Ian wasn’t given long to ponder his relationship with Mickey when two short raps cut through the noise of the household. Bewildered, Ian and Fiona stared at each other with twin expressions of confusion. Ever since their last run-in with Frank, the front door to the Gallagher’s home had been locked every day once the last kid was home from school. All their friends knew to call before showing up these days so as not to find themselves locked out, so they weren’t expecting anyone.

Two more knocks, this time louder, becoming impatient. Ian turned off the stove where stew was simmering and cautiously headed for the front door, picking up the baseball bat hanging by the stairs and grasping it tightly behind his back. He opened the door cautiously and was startled to find behind it a short woman, probably not much beyond her mid-twenties, in a navy blue suit that looked too stiff on her petite frame, rapidly glancing from side to side and reeking with obvious discomfort.

“Gallagher residence?” The woman inquired.

“Yeah.” Ian nodded curtly.

“I’m Brittany Sturgess,” she held up a state government ID badge, “are you Ian Gallagher?”

“Yeah…”

“Are Francis or Monica Gallagher available?”

“No, they aren’t around right now-”

“Are you currently the primary caregiver of your five siblings?”

“What do you want,” Ian finally snapped.

“I have here an order for protective custody of Philip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher, Deborah Gallagher, Carl Gallagher, and Liam Gallagher. A report of child abuse has been made to the DCFS and we have found the children under your care at risk and a claim of anticipatory abuse and neglect has been filed against you and a case has been opened. We are authorized to temporarily remove the five children from this home. You will be contacted by DCFS within 48 hours with the date of the first hearing. Please allow me to collect the children.”

The woman, Brittany Sturgess, was completely devoid of emotion as she rattled off the information seemingly without stopping for breath. Everything about her enraged Ian. This woman was standing here like a virtual robot as she politely informed him she was taking away his family, his children, and he didn’t for one moment understand why this was happening.

“Wait- wait- just hold on- just one minute- our family’s had formal DCFS investigations before- this isn’t how this goes- what happened to formal investigations and safety plan agreements- who the fuck reported us-” Ian spluttered out. His mind was spinning. His entire world was crashing around him. Less than five minutes ago he’d been happily making dinner, realizing how goddamn happy he was as he optimistically thought about his relationship with Mickey. Now all of that was gone.

“We have seen the file on this family and understand you are not new to the system, so you are aware we cannot divulge the identity of the reporter and given this extensive history with the department we have decided that protective custody is best for all involved. Please allow me inside to help the children pack a bag so I may take them into protective custody.”

Ian was losing control. His palms were sweating, his heart was racing, his head was spinning, and his vision was blurring as he struggled to take in huge gulps of air that seemed to hold no oxygen, then everything went black.

Chapter Text

When Ian came to, he found himself lying on the couch with no recollection of how he got there, though for a moment beamed when he caught sight of Mickey’s twinkling blue eyes. But no, they weren’t twinkling playfully the way they usually did, they were cold and stormy and that’s when Ian remembered.

“Where are-” he began, but Ms. Sturgess cut him off.

“The children are packing, we are leaving in five minutes, I have left the paperwork as well as my business card here on the table for you to look over, I will be in touch for a follow up as soon as possible.”

Mickey’s eyes darkened.

“But you can’t just-” Ian pleaded, trying to get up but feeling another rush of dizziness overwhelm him and sat back down, knowing he couldn’t fight right now even if he wanted to.

“We can, Mr Gallagher, and we are, so if you’d like to say goodbye, this is your chance.”

Lip, Fiona, Debbie, and Carl, with Liam being carried by Fiona, came traipsing down the stairs.

“We’ll be fine Ian, we’ve done this before okay, I’ll look after them, take it easy, those attacks take it out of you, we’ll be home real soon, right?” Lip interrupted Ian, who was about to argue back with Brittany. Sometimes Ian wished Lip wasn’t so goddamn efficient at knowing exactly what Ian needed to hear and he hated that it placated him even just a tiny bit, enough for him to stay seated on the couch and let the kids come over and hug him tightly before Brittany hurried them out of the house like an overzealous sheepdog, leaving Ian feeling completely defeated.

The silence in the house was absolutely deafening, the feeling of being suffocated overwhelmed Ian again as he tried to push himself up off the couch to find the papers Brittany had left, but a pair of firm hands caught his shoulders as his body pitched forward involuntarily.

“Hey, yo Ian, sit the fuck down man, you look like you're gonna pass out again.” Mickey cursed at him forcefully.

Ian shook his head, “I gotta get up Mick- I gotta figure out what the hell is going on here, they took the kids, fuck they took the kids Mick.” Tears threatened to spill over but his face held a fury even Frank had not been able to ignite in him. “They took the fucking kids and I have to get them back ‘cause Frank ain’t gonna do it and I have no fucking idea where Monica is. I’ve got 48 hours to figure this out, Mickey.” He ground out trying to bat Mickey out of his way. If Mickey wasn’t going to help him he would do this on his own.

“Just slow the fuck down, man,” Mickey snapped, leaving Ian’s side for a split second to retrieve the papers and shove them into the gingers’ lap, sitting himself on the coffee table in front of Ian.

“I know how this goes Gallagher, you gotta slow the fuck down and get your head on right or you ain’t going to be any use to ‘em. As much as I know you wanna beat the shit out of whoever reported you, it ain’t gonna help. We gotta be smart about this, they will have already sent the case to court, but the judge could even make ‘em give the kids back if they don’t see enough evidence of abuse, so you got a chance. Otherwise, they got 60 days to complete an investigation. We gotta get your ass a lawyer, or get ‘em to assign you a public defender, but those idiots already got a caseload, they ain’t got time ta handle so we gotta find someplace that wants some sappy pro-bono shit… What?” Mickey raised an eyebrow at Ian who was sitting still with an expression of surprise and confusion plastered on his face.

“How do you know all this Mick?” If Ian didn’t know any better he’d say Mickey looked embarrassed but the look was gone as fast as it came and he seemed to be intently studying something just to the left of Ian’s face when he spoke again.

“I’ve got a sister, Mandy, she’d be the same age as Lip now. Remember I told you my mom died when you were tellin’ me about Monica bein’ a piece of garbage that time?” Ian nodded.

“I was in juvie when it happened, Colin and Iggy were outta town on a run, still can’t fuckin’ believe they left Mandy alone with him, anyway, dad got real fucked up and hurt her real fuckin’ bad, mistook her for mom. She ran after he passed out, hid with our Aunt Rande over on South Justine hoping she could just ride out his bender there, but when she finally went home he didn’t stop. Aunt Rande called DCFS on him. Mandy didn’t tell me much, and my brother didn’t understand what was happenin’, so I had to find out for myself. Lotta time for readin’ in juvie, not much else to do but work out. In the end, Aunt Carol got custody of Mandy and they moved to Indiana…” Mickey finished with a heavy sigh, Ian couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for Mickey going through that, and even less Mandy.

“C’ mere,” Ian reached out, pulling Mickey’s face to his with his hands wrapped at the base of Mickey’s neck, and rested their foreheads together. The two men stayed silent for a long moment as if having a telepathic conversation. The two didn’t need words to know what the other was saying. Yet Ian couldn’t get any indication of where their relationship stood, though right now all either of them cared about was comforting the other and longing to heal each other’s wounds.

“You’re so brave Mick, so fucking brave,” Ian whispered, nuzzling his nose along Mickey’s jaw, pressing light kisses in its wake, feeling some of the pressure in his chest release as he lost himself in the scent of Mickey.

“You gonna tell me what that was with the passin’ out?” Mickey nudged Ian back a little, stealing his face into an expression that said, ‘I ain’t dropping this until you tell me’.

“Panic attack… happens sometimes, I take meds, but it’s the nature of it, sometimes the meds can’t fix everything. It really takes it out of me, makes me drowsy, that’s what Lip meant, I know you noticed that.”

Mickey blushed.

“Sometimes a panic attack can set off depression too, that’s another reason Lip looked like that, they worry about me, especially when my meds can’t keep up, it’s not good for me to be alone when I’m depressed or manic.” Ian bit his lip.

“What does all that shit mean? How can we not be depressed growin’ up in the ghetto.” Mickey furrowed his brow.

“It’s not just depression, I’m bipolar.” Ian sighed.

“The fuck does that mean?” The words were gruff but his tone was soft, almost scared.

“They used to call it manic depression. Debs says it’s like the north and south pole. Off my meds, I have these high highs followed by low lows. The very worst polar opposites. When I’m high they call it manic, I feel like I’m on top of the world, like a superhero, nothing can touch me and all of my ideas seem like the best ideas, no matter how reckless everyone else would say it is. when I’m low it’s the worst of depression, I won’t get out of bed or eat or talk, I just lay there not moving for days and nothing can make me no matter what anyone does or says, and I think all these horrible things about myself.”

Ian couldn’t look at Mickey anymore, talking about his bipolar always made him feel insecure. It was the part of himself, his life, that made him feel so out of control. Life on the Southside was unpredictable and chaotic but that he could handle, it was the way life was. After 21 years, he’d learned how to navigate it and he took it in stride with his siblings there to support him, but bipolar was something he tried to figure out on his own. They’d seen Monica go through it, but watching it from the outside was so different than feeling it for yourself, and he never wanted them to feel the way Monica had made them feel because of him.

Ian was apprehensive, cocking his head trying to read him, but Mickey barely paused before responding.

“Well you ain’t alone are you?”

“Mickey, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah well, wanna.”

Chapter Text

Ian surged forward, kissing Mickey hard until they were both left breathless. They stared at each other for a long moment before Mickey slid his hands up Ian’s chest, feeling the hard smooth lines of his chest under his shirt until he reached Ian’s neck and reached up to fist his hands into Ian’s hair and pulled him back down against his lips. Their mouths moved together kissing sloppily with too much tongue and teeth as though they were trying to consume each other and really, they were; they were trying to consume each other’s pain so they wouldn’t have to feel it anymore.

The kiss took on a frenzied pace that had Ian tugging at Mickey’s waist, dragging the shorter boy on top of him so Mickey was straddling his lap and Ian was grabbing his ass, pulling him down onto him and grinding his own hips up, desperate to feel more, more, more.

They rocked together; tongues tasting, hands grasping, hips grinding. The first time they had done this, in the heat of the club, they had been almost silent apart from their heavy breathing, but this time they were both shamelessly letting out audible evidence of their desperation for each other. Mickey was mewling whenever Ian tightened his hand on his ass, sure to leave fingerprints, and Ian was groaning as Mickey’s hard cock pressed against his own. They were both completely lost in the heady feeling of arousal that surrounded them like a bubble.

“Get this shit off!” Ian mumbled through his harsh panting, tugging roughly at Mickey’s shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it over the couch before doing the same with his own. He caught Mickey lick his bottom lip and worry it between his teeth when Ian’s body was revealed and Ian preened under the scrutiny, his lips turning up into a grin before grabbing Mickey and flipping him over so Mickey was now laying down on the couch and Ian was hovering above him, settling between Mickey’s thighs so they could continue to rut against each other, and diving back in to continue their kissing.

With their torsos now uncovered Ian took advantage of his position on top to explore the newly exposed skin, licking down Mickey’s neck, nibbling and sucking here and there as though experimenting, trying to discover where he would find the best reactions and Mickey didn’t disappoint. Ian was able to drag out the most beautiful sounds at the pulse point just behind Mickey’s earlobe, no word could describe how that whine made Ian feel as a shiver passed through his body, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

“Fuck Mickey- want you-” Ian moaned, bucking his hips heatedly, dragging their crotches together but it wasn’t enough, there was still too much separating them. He growled in frustration.

“Get the fuck on me, Firecrotch,” Mickey bit out, his voice low and hoarse.
That was all the encouragement Ian needed to tear open Mickey’s pants, and shove them down, marveling at the sight of Mickey finally naked beneath him. He must have been still a moment too long because Mickey reached out and ripped open Ian’s own jeans and pushed them down, along with his boxers, in one swift movement. The playful grin on Mickey’s lips made Ian’s stomach flip.

Ian settled himself back between Mickey’s legs, letting out a satisfied sigh, as their bodies finally connected, and framed his arms on either side of his head. Mickey’s cock was warm and hot against his own and his hips snapped forward of their own accord pulling a moan from Mickey’s throat. Ian wanted more of that sound, he wanted to taste that cock.

Mouthing slowly down Mickey’s neck, Ian began licking and kissing every inch of skin until he reached his nipples. First, Ian took the right in his mouth, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue, circling and suddenly gently biting down causing Mickey to let out a whine and arch his back. Ian grinned triumphantly having found one of the man’s most sensitive spots. Ian let his mouth wander across Mickey’s chest, lavishing the other nipple with the same attention he had paid the first and he was rewarded with another moan that had Ian’s dick getting impossibly harder and beginning to leak.

The journey down the rest of Mickey’s torso was faster as Ian licked over his abs and nipped at the inside of his thighs, hot breath ghosting over Mickey’s dick which earned him a tight fist in his hair making Ian look up and what he found was breathtaking.

“Look so fucked out for me already,” Ian groaned as he took in Mickey’s face. His eyes were heavy but firmly locked on Ian’s, his mouth was slack and his eyebrows were raised high on his forehead.

“Going to suck your dick, Mick, been thinking about how you taste,” he said and with that Ian dived down, taking as much of Mickey’s cock in his mouth as he could in one go and his eyelids fell shut as he let himself get lost in the taste of Mickey. His cock was heavy on Ian’s tongue, making his mouth feel full in the best way. Mickey’s dick was wider than his own though a little shorter than his above-average 9 inches. It rested pleasantly in Ian’s mouth making him feel full as he tried to take in more each time he bobbed his head down to the base and slowly pulled up, never quite letting it fall from his mouth but enough so he could let his tongue dance around the tip and across the hot vein underneath.

If it wasn’t for how much he wanted to fuck Mickey, Ian thought he could do this all night. But he wanted to fuck Mickey, he wanted to hear more of the sounds the brunet was making, he wanted to know how he would sound as Ian fucked him hard and fast, how it compared to the sounds he would make when he slowed down just rolling his hips…

Ian pulled off Mickey’s dick, giving the tip one last lick, grinning at the whine he received when Mickey felt the loss of Ian’s hot, wet mouth. Ian fumbled with his pants for a minute, grabbing his wallet out before kicking his jeans and boxers to the floor. Mickey raised his eyebrows in confusion until Ian let out a triumphant sound, holding up a condom and a lube packet, and Mickey’s expression turned back into a grin, rolling his eyes, and pulled Ian back down onto him and recapturing his lips.

“Need you, Mick,” Ian whispered, and all Mickey, who was drowning in desire, could do was nod his head in assent. Ian needed this, not sex, but Mickey. He needed to feel Mickey all around him, needed to be wrapped up in nothing but Mickey, the man he had been consumed by for the past weeks, months. He needed to be as close as physically and emotionally possible. Without Mickey, he was going to fall off the cliff, and this time he didn’t think he’d be able to climb back out of the abyss. Mickey’s hands tight on his shoulders were the only things keeping Ian from falling.

Using his teeth Ian ripped open the lube packed and squirted some onto the fingers of his right hand, setting the packet down on the armrest above Mickey’s head he shuffled to lay back down over Mickey’s body and so he could reach his arm down and began to tease at Mickey’s entrance. He stroked feather-light over his puckered hole and Mickey gasped at the cool sensation of the lube and the almost -not -enough pressure. A grin spread across Ian’s face at the sounds of pure need coming from the man below him.

“Sh-shut the fuck up.” Mickey tried to sound gruff but it came out as more of a whine as he tried to angle his hips down to try and get Ian’s finger inside him and finally, Ian allowed it. He shoved the finger inside Mickey, letting out a moan of his own at the hot tight heat around him. This was exactly what he needed.

“More,” the brunet moaned at Ian who worked the finger in and out slowly until Mickey was glaring daggers at him and only then did Ian slowly ease in a second. The very last thing Ian wasn’t to do was hurt the beautiful man below him, so he took his time twisting and stroking the two fingers inside Mickey until he was fucking himself down onto Ian’s fingers, and finally, Ian pushed in a third to join the two, stretching him open.

When Ian curled his fingers he knew he’d found Mickey’s prostate by the sound he made that could only be described as a keen. The sounds falling from Mickey’s lips didn’t stop; like a dam had finally broken somewhere inside him and Ian felt the need growing stronger in his stomach, twisting around and making his hips jerk forward against Mickey’s thigh involuntarily as his cock searched for friction.

“M’ready,” Mickey groused, an eyebrow raised, and a cocky smile on his lips grasping at the hand that was working inside him and pulling it out to lick and suck at the fingers with a heady expression on his face.

The swirl of Mickey’s tongue against Ian’s fingers gave him a taste of how that tongue would feel against his cock, the way his cheeks would look hollowed out as he sucked on his cock… “Fuck,” Ian groaned, he wanted that mouth on his cock, wanted those lips red and wet, and bruised from taking his length. Not now, now he was going to fuck the beautiful brunet until he was screaming his name. His head fell back and his eyes closed for a minute, Ian tried to get his breathing under control, if he didn’t slow his body down he was going to come the minute he pushed inside Mickey, he’d been waiting too long for this and now it was happening and he was going to explode.

“Fuck,” Ian moaned, reaching with his free hand for the condom and lube he’d left on the arm of the couch. His fingers trembled, embarrassingly, but Mickey tugged the condom from his grasp and opened it deftly, sliding it slowly down Ian’s length, still smiling cockily around Ian’s fingers in his mouth. Ian let out a moan of pleasure and desperation at the feel of Mickey’s hand on him that was now liberally coating his length with lube, providing a little pressure on his aching cock but not enough, nowhere near enough.

“Do it, fuckin’ do it,” Mickey groaned, releasing Ian’s fingers, biting down on his own lip, hips wriggling, desperate to be filled and Ian couldn’t deny either of them another second. He grasped Mickey’s hips, dragging a throw cushion under his ass and slowly, slowly sinking into that hot tight heat.

“Shit, fuck, Mick, so tight,” Ian whined as he bottomed out, holding tightly onto Mickey’s hips as he tried not to completely lose control. Being inside Mickey felt like falling apart and being put back together all at once.

“Move, fuckin’ move!” Mickey broke Ian’s reverie as he tried to fuck himself on Ian’s dick and Ian grinned wickedly at the desperation in the other man’s tone. Mickey let out a noise that Ian was certain was supposed to be threatening, but it sounded more like a whine and Ian gave in. He focused back on Mickey’s body, taking in every dip and curve until he met those sparkling blue eyes that were like the ocean in a storm, and began to thrust.

Ian started slow, rolling his hips languidly, keeping his cock deep inside Mickey, not wanting to pull out any further than he needed to in order to give them both pleasure and it seemed this angle was exactly right to gently press close to Mickey’s prostate, but not quite close enough to get him anywhere near release.

“Harder, please, more,” Mickey whined, desperately reaching for Ian’s ass and squeezing his cheeks, trying to control the rhythm of his thrusts. Ian leaned in to kiss Mickey with more teeth and tongue than finesse or rhythm, but Mickey didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed entirely distracted by Ian’s hands on his waist manhandling him; Ian flipped him over onto his stomach and Mickey instinctively got up onto his hands and knees presenting his ass to Ian.

“God Mickey, your ass is gorgeous,” Ian said with a moan. He reached down to kiss and lick at the plump round cheeks before pressing slowly back in and starting a fast pace, pounding into Mickey, searching out his prostate again, letting a hand roam over Mickey’s ass cheeks, wanting nothing more than to make him come. The harder Ian thrust, the higher pitched Mickey’s moans became, and it had Ian’s stomach knotting with the familiar heat. He gripped at Mickey’s hip, letting his other hand snake down, pinching each nipple roughly then curling around his hard leaking dick.

“Close,” Mickey bit out causing Ian to instinctively fuck harder and faster, jerking Mickey’s cock in time until the brunet was yelling out his name and slumping down as his cock painted the blanket below them on the couch with ropes of hot white come. Ian’s toes curled as Mickey’s hole clenched around him and one two three more thrusts and he was coming, filling the condom, pulsing inside Mickey keening loud and low, body vibrating as he fell forward, kissing the back of Mickey’s neck and shoulder and rolling onto his side so he was laying on his side on the couch stuffed between the back and Mickey’s scorching, red body.

Both men were glistening with sweat and panting as they came down from the highs of their orgasms. Ian reluctantly pulled out of Mickey who mewled at the loss, pushing himself back against Ian so every inch of the length of their bodies were pressed together. Ian slung an arm over Mickey’s waist and let his eyes flutter closed, nuzzling into his neck, pressing kisses there, letting his lungs fill with a scent that was undeniably Mickey mixed with the heat and sweat of sex. It made Ian buzz knowing he made Mickey smell that way. He had never smelled anything better.

Chapter Text

Ian awoke feeling chilled and sticky, confused for a moment why he was sleeping naked on the couch until he heard a noise in the kitchen and sat up breathing hard, eyes scanning the room as his hypervigilance kicked in. He crept through the living room, fists raised, until he spotted Mickey and his whole body relaxed.

“Fuck, Mick you scared me,” Ian laughed with relief.

“Makin’ pancakes.” Mickey grinned, eyes wandering over Ian’s naked body, and licked his lips. Ian smiled.

“I’d suggest round two, but we’ve already lost,” Ian looked up at the clock over the arch, “Shit, 9 hours, I gotta find a lawyer and find the kids.” He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m- I’m sorry Mick but I gotta find the kids, I want to stay and talk- about all of this but I have to get them back.”

“Told you, I’m gonna help you, gonna call the lawyer Aunt Rande used with Mandy, you’re gonna get ‘em back,” Mickey replied firmly, the certainty in his voice calmed Ian down in a way he didn’t understand, but his nerves were no longer itching to explode in mania and the black cloud of depression was blown back just a little.

Ian stumbled forward, hands wrapping firmly around Mickey’s shoulders, burying his head in the juncture between Mickey’s neck and shoulder, breathing him in. This morning he smelled like a mixture of Ian’s body wash and something musky from the shirt he was wearing yesterday. There weren’t words to explain just how grateful Ian was for this man who had launched himself unexpectedly into his life.

“Go take a fuckin’ shower you smell like jizz.” Mickey pushed Ian away, turning back to the stove. “Pancakes will be ready in ten.” Ian grinned, dropping a kiss to Mickey’s temple and smacking his ass before he walked away.

“I better not find you’ve used my towel, you were even more covered in jizz than me,” he laughed, letting Mickey distract him from his worries for a moment and he was grateful for that. Ian climbed the stairs two at a time, picking up stray clothes that belonged to the kids on his way, dumping them in the overflowing laundry hamper in the bathroom. Just another thing on the list to deal with before he had any chance of getting the kids home.

“Coffee maker’s doin’ some weird-ass shit man,” Mickey griped at Ian when he returned from his shower carrying the basket of laundry. He dumped the laundry into the machine before joining Mickey at the counter.

“The thing’s a piece of crap, I think it’s something electrical; if you pull out the plug and wiggle the pins it usually starts back up.” Ian reached around Mickey so he could perform his quick fix and pray to some nameless higher power it would hold out another week, or month, until he had some spare money to replace it.

“Thank fuck, stupid thing only made enough for one cup last time,” Mickey grumbled, causing Ian to laugh at how adorable grumpy Mickey was.

“How many cups does it take before I get the guy who shows up at my store?” Ian teased, causing Mickey to scowl.

“That guy has already drunk a whole pot and had at least two cigarettes, this guy has only had one coffee and one smoke,” he muttered, flipping the last pancake from the pan onto one of the plates that were both now stacked four high.

“Syrup’s in the cupboard by the fridge if you want it,” the grin that simple sentence put on Mickey’s face had Ian laughing loudly which was met with a glare and a finger.

Once they had both finished eating and Ian had returned to his own seat after ‘just helpin’ you get the syrup off your mouth’, he was on the phone with the lawyer. Ian anxiously bit his lip, watching intently as Mickey spoke. Biting words were exchanged with the person on the other end but finally, the brunet hung up with a satisfied smirk.

“She’s going to see us in two hours.” Ian flung himself at Mickey, wrapping the shorter man up in a bone-crushing hug as his chest filled with something that closely represented hope for the first time. It was a tingling sensation that began in his toes and rushed through his veins, settling in his belly, making him feel full and warm, completely separate from the satisfying feeling the delicious banana pancakes had provided him. Neither boy pressed for more, Ian simply buried himself in everything that was Mickey, allowing himself a few moments of peace.

“Hey, crap Mickey do you need to go? I’m sorry I didn’t think you probably have your own stuff you need to do, you don’t need to stay here with me if you don’t want to.” Ian jerked away suddenly feeling like an idiot for expecting Mickey to stick around. They might be friends, fuck Mickey probably didn’t even call Ian his friend, he was just the guy from the shop he was helping in exchange for meals, fuck.

“Yo! Gallagher, chill, I can see you doin’ that thinkin’ thing again and I told you I ain’t going anywhere,” Mickey countered staunchly, his eyes searching Ian’s for a moment before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. When he pulled back Mickeys’ expression was full of compassion and something else Ian could only call pride, as though Mickey was proud of himself for making the move and that made the hope flutter in his stomach once more.

“Alright, alright,” Mickey batted Ian away so the redhead would stop staring, Ian laughed, picking up their empty plates and headed to the sink to start cleaning.

“I should swing by my place though and get changed, I smell like sex and oil and shit from the van last night,” he pulled out a pen, “this is the address of the lawyers’ office, I’ll meet you there, don’t want you bein’ late ‘cause of me, then if you still want me helpin’ you, we’ll come back and get this place right for the home inspection, yeah?” Ian was speechless, he simply nodded as Mickey got up, collected his wallet and keys, and headed out of the front door.

Once mickey had left it was too quiet in the house. Usually, there were sounds of the kids’ chatter, the TV or music playing obnoxiously loudly, Carl trying to destroy or build something he shouldn’t. Without the kids, Ian’s heart seemed hollow. He needed to bring his family home.

Chapter Text

“All right Mr. Gallagher, I’ve gone through your family’s file here and I have to tell you this is going to be a hard fight. The last time the children were removed from the home-”

“I remember,” Ian jumped to his feet, interrupting the lawyer, Julia Kennedy, “I remember the last time they were removed because I was still one of those children, I was a kid myself, trying to take care of my brothers and sisters because my dad had gone on a bender and mom was off her meds and threw a party that ended in a house fire that left Fiona with burns so bad I had to take her to the hospital myself! She coulda died, she woulda died if I hadn’t been there!” Ian shouted, not noticing how much he was losing control until he felt Mickey tugging on his hand making him sit down, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“I understand, Mr. Gallagher, I do, but the children- you- were brought into DCFS custody then because of Monica’s inability to care for you all due to her illness. The state knows she’s noncompliant with her medication, we also know you have a history of non-compliance.”

“What the fuck, I thought juvenile records were supposed to be sealed!” he ground out, feeling the anger rise again.

“You didn’t commit a crime Mr. Gallagher, it’s not that kind of record. Unfortunately, medical history is relevant and accessible to them when trying to assess if you’re fit to be a guardian and since the report made was concerning your illness, they’re going to bring it up.”

“Wait, what? I’m the reason the kids were taken?”

“No Mr. Gallagher, the report I was given sites the complaint was that the person currently supervising the children was a non-compliant, mentally ill individual who was negligent. The caseworker who came to you reports they asked if there was any other supervising adult in the home but you said no, so she was required to take the children into protective custody until a time they could assess your ability to care for them properly.”

Ian was back on his feet.

“This is bullshit! I am med compliant, I have been for over two years! The clinic on Halstead has my records, they can see the blood tests, I’ve been fucking taking my meds! I not mentally ill, I have a fucking disease that’s never going away, but I’ve been looking after these kids far longer than I’ve had this. So I don’t care what I’ve got to do to show DCFS I’m not my illness and that I’m the only one who ever takes care of these kids. They’re my fucking kids and no bastard who thinks he knows what I can and can’t do is going to take them away from me!”

Mickey was on his feet beside Ian now, grabbing his arm gently steering him so they were face to face.

“Ian, man you gotta calm the fuck down, I know you’re mad but this ain’t helpin’, you need this chick to be able to tell the courts you’re fit to be their guardian or whatever and this sure as shit ain’t doin’ that.” Mickey staired Ian down until the latter slouched back down into his seat feeling a mixture of anger, frustration, and helplessness.

“Mr. Milkovich is right, we have to prove you’re not Monica, that you’re med compliant, and you are the one who’s providing a safe and stable environment for your siblings. We are going to petition for guardianship which will give you legal rights to care for the kids. We get your W-2 and a character reference from your employer, we get your medical records from the clinic, and we make sure they did intake interviews with the children because it sounds to me as if those will swing in your favor and we can use that as evidence too.”

Julia looked him directly in the eye then. “You just have to stay calm because if you fly off the handle like this in the courtroom, the whole thing will be over and you’ll be lucky if they ever let you near the kids unsupervised again, do you understand?”
Ian nodded his head solemnly.

“Look, Mr Gallagher, I get that you’re probably feeling hopeless and I’m going to be honest, it’s not going to be straight forward, but you do have a chance and I’m going to damn well do my best. I’m going to find out where they’ve been placed so you can know they are safe, meanwhile you go home and get the place ready for home inspection tomorrow. Like I said to Mr. Milkovich on the phone, I admit I should have done more for him, so I owe him and this is how I pay that back. I’m going to make this right, Mickey, I’m going to get them back.”

All Ian could do was stare open-mouthed between the two until Mickey was grabbing at his elbow and leading him from the room.

“The fuck was she talking about she owes you? What could a lawyer possibly owe?” Ian peered at Mickey quizzically as they leaned back against the wall by the entrance to the building, each puffing on a cigarette. Mickey shook his head, not able to meet Ian’s eyes and pushed off, heading to the L station on the next block. Ian dropped the subject, for now, there was too much going on in his head to want to push Mickey, but he made a mental note to bring it up once they were done running the errands for building the case so they could sit and talk properly. Ian was guessing it was something to do with his sister Mandy’s case and respected and empathized with Mickey enough to understand it was not something he wanted to talk about in public.

Chapter Text

Ian and Mickey spent the better part of the rest of the day methodically cleaning the Gallagher house from top to bottom, in companionable silence, ever so often getting distracted by the way a shirt would ride up as a man stretched up to reach a high shelf or the way jeans tightened around a firm ass bending over to pick something up off the ground. In the early evening, Ian’s phone rang and he sighed a breath of relief at the sound of Julia Kennedy’s voice.

“Good news Mr. Gallagher, I was able to get the placement information of all your siblings. The bad news is I am under strict instruction by the courts to inform you that it is in the best interest of the case for you not to visit them as I informed them you will be petitioning for guardianship. They won’t allow any potential influence over any testimony the kids may be asked to give in court, it’s considered a conflict of interest.” Ian let out a pained groan which acted as some kind of homing beacon causing Mickey to appear at his side in an instant, biting his lip nervously.

“What about Frank and Monica, did they find them?” Ian asked anxiously.

“I’m sorry, they won’t tell me that, but we have to assume they did,” she stated matter of factly, though Ian could hear the honest apology hidden in her tone.
“Can you at least tell me the kids’ placements are not complete shit shows?” he practically begged.

“I was able to see the history on each one and none of them have any glaring problems, they are safe, I promise you that. Liam is with a family who take in emergency foster kids under five, Deborah and Carl are in a group home together that has a good track record, Fiona is with a family that have three other daughters that went through the foster-to-adopt program so that’s a little unexpected, then lastly Philip is in a group home for boys who are aging out of the system. I have been assured each placement has been thoroughly vetted by the state and that the children are safe and cared for.”

Ian didn’t miss the way Julia failed to comment on the happiness of the kids, which was as important to Ian as their physical health. The mental and emotional health of his siblings had taken a higher priority than he reasonably had time, energy, or money for since his own diagnosis and subsequent relapse.

“Look, Ian, they have another 24 hours to get a court date for the prelim and I’d guess they’ll apply to keep the kids in protective custody at least until then but with the weekend coming up the prelim most likely won’t be until next week so just try not to worry right now, you know what you need to do. Give me a call at any time if you need my help, okay? Goodnight Ian.”

Panic had begun to wrack through Ian’s body at Julia’s mention of the weekend coming up. It was Wednesday and he hadn’t been to work today, he hadn’t even thought about work. His fear must have been palpable because Mickey was grabbing him by the forearms and leading him to sit on the couch.

“Ey, Gallagher, look at me.” Mickey gently grasped his chin with his thumb and forefinger so that Ian was looking in his face.

“You gotta breathe, man, come on, you can do it.” It sounded like Mickey was begging, like he was close to tears and, unable to stand the pain in those blue eyes, Ian began to breathe; focusing on Mickey’s chest rise and fall using it to time his own inhales and exhales to the brunets.

“Work- Linda-” Ian stuttered, “Shit- your work!” He struggled away from Mickey but the shorter man held on tight.

“It’s alright, I called us both out of work when I first woke up. Told Linda you gave us both food poisoning after I helped you fix up the van, she seemed cool with it, had one of her cousins cover for you. My work ain’t a big deal I have a bunch of vacation banked. I was gonna ask you tomorrow what you wanted to do about the club, you’ve got a minute to think on that.”

Ian nodded, relief flooded him. He was completely speechless at the thought of someone else looking after him. For so long he’d been the one taking care of everyone and everything it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to have someone doing that for him, it made his insides feel warm and light.

“I should go to the club, we need that money, and if I don’t show they can pick up another twink just like me on any street corner in Boystown.” Mickey smacked him lightly on the back of the head making Ian furrow his brow in confusion.

“Don’t fuckin’ say that alright, man. Believe me, people ‘round here have done way worse for way less, you just tryin’ ta put food on the table, you ain’t just some fag for sale.”

Ian blinked his eyes, stunned by Mickey’s words. It was the kind of affirmation he’d never heard about himself, and certainly not something he expected. The more Mickey spoke the more Ian fell in love. He was so screwed.

Chapter Text

The next morning Ian awoke to the harsh sound of his phone ringing, it took him a few moments to recognize the sound because he was so deeply asleep, warm, and comfortable the way he was wrapped around Mickey’s body. When he finally extracted himself from the sheets he hopped off the bed and took the phone out to the stairs in an effort to let the brunet sleep.

“Sorry to wake you but I just got a call from a friend who owes me a favor at DCFS, the social worker will be there for your home inspection before lunch, they didn’t give me a time but your cases is on the judges’ docket for this morning, so my guess is once the date for prelim is set they’ll be over to do the inspection and just give you the info at the same time. I just wanted to give you a heads up, make sure you’re ready in time.”

All Ian wanted to do was curl up in bed around the soft warmth of Mickey’s body but he knew he couldn’t, the storm cloud above his head was moving in fast and threatening to break, drowning him in a flood of despair that would leave him broken, unable to leave the bed for days, unable to help his siblings who needed him now more than ever.

It was only 8:10, which meant the social worker could show up any time in the next four hours. Fuck that was a wide window. At least it was only four hours he supposed, if it hadn’t been for Julia’s phone call it would have been a twelve-hour window and that would have been even more daunting.

“Come on Gallagher, you can do this!” he scolded his reflection in the bathroom mirror, reaching for his pills from the highest shelf of the cabinet, swallowing them all with a mouthful of water from the tap and splashing his face with water in an attempt to clear the fog from his mind. He needed coffee and knew Mickey would too when he woke up.

An hour later Ian sat at the kitchen table fully dressed, nursing a cold cup of coffee, surprised when the creek of the stairs alerted him to a disheveled looking Mickey making his way down. Ian took a deep breath, about to speak when Mickey held up a hand and pinched his nose as if in pain.

“I need to drink half a cup before you say anything important, my brain is a sieve,” Mickey grumbled reaching for a cup and pouring, not bothering to add any milk or sugar. Ian sat in silence for ten more minutes, repressing the giggle that wanted to burst out of him at the adorable grumpy sleepy look on the man’s face, until Mickey finally looked at him and he took that as permission to begin.

“I know you said you’re going to help me with all of this but I want you to know that you don’t owe me anything. You’re a customer at my job- jobs- and you’ve helped me out so much with fixin’ stuff for us so really you don’t owe me anything. I owe you really, and I don’t really get what’s making you stick around, but I wanted to say thank you, and whatever you think you owe me, your debt is paid, or maybe you just feel sorry for me but I don’t need it, Mickey.” Ian sighed heavily.

“Fuck you, Gallagher, you think I’m doin’ this shit ‘cause I pity you? I don’t pity no one. I grew up in this dump, same as you, and if I was just after a fuck I woulda left yesterday, wouldn’t I!?” Mickey dumped his cup in the sink, gesturing wildly.
Ian closed his eyes, stealing himself.

“It’s just- fuck- these past few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you... now I don’t know what we’re-”

“Jesus you’re so fuckin’ blind!” Mickey stalked forward, grabbing Ian with a hand on each side of his face and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

“I have too, you fuckin’ idiot.” Mickey laughed, shaking his head. “For someone who talks so much, you don’t fuckin’ listen do you? You think I’d give a shit rememberin’ some South Side prick I went to high school with who didn’t even stick around for four years when I was in an’ out of juvie half the time. You think normal 21-year-olds go to clubs on Thursday nights if they weren’t tryin’ to avoid one of the weekend dancers. I had ta stop goin’ there on fuckin’ weekends because I could never pick up a guy ‘cause I’d spend the entire night staring at your dumb ass.”

This time it was Ian that closed the distance between them, he couldn’t believe what was happening in the midst of one of the worst weeks of his life, the boy, turned man, he’d had a crush on since he was the school bad boy with the perfect eyes was standing here telling him that he, in so many words, had feelings for Ian too. How the fuck was this possible?

Chapter Text

Ian was about to drag Mickey back to his bed when there was a knock on the door and it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.

“Social worker,” he stated the obvious, getting up to open the door, trying to arrange his facial features to an appropriate level of seriousness, without letting her get a peek at his fear or the giddiness in his chest at Mickey’s revelation that hadn’t quite disappeared even with the current situation taking over his mind.

“Good morning Mr. Gallagher, Brittany Sturgess, DCFS, you remember me?” Ian nodded dumbly, stepping back to allow her into the house, of course he remembered the woman who tore apart his family.

“I’ve got a few things to cover, but first if you wouldn’t mind showing me around, I have to sign off on whether or not I believe this is an appropriate place for the children to reside, then you and I can talk, okay?” Ian nodded again but at the questioning look on her face, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah- yes of course. For the most part, the kids use the dining room for their homework, except Lip- Philip- who has his own room now. I usually do the cooking because I generally work mornings at the Kash and Grab, but if for some reason I can’t Lip and Fiona both can, and yes we have a fire extinguisher and working alarms,” Ian explained as they walked through the downstairs, pointing out each device and catching a glimpse of the encouraging smile on Mickey’s lips.

“What about your friend there, is he also a resident? I only have listed the five children, yourself, plus Frank and Monica,” Brittany read from a list on her clipboard.

“No, no that’s my er- my- Mickey, he’s been helping me out with the case and all,” Ian answered quickly, suddenly appearing very interested in the sleeve of his sweater.

“Okay, now if you could show me the bedrooms.” She glared at Mickey as though trying to see into his mind, but Mickey didn’t flinch, just gave her a blank look, not blinking until she looked away, clearing her throat.

“Fine yeah,” Ian climbed the stairs first, opening the doors to the bedrooms as he passed. “Right here is Liam and Carl, Lip used to be in here too but Frank and Monica have been gone so long I took their room and Lip moved into mine. We thought he could do with his own space ‘cause he’s a senior an’ hopin’ he goes to college next year, you know he has a 4.6 GPA,” Ian informed her proudly. “So this is me,” Ian tilted his head indicating the room. “This is just the bathroom, then Lip, then Fiona and Debbie there at the end by the front stairs.”

Ian allowed Brittany to peer into each bedroom, scribbling notes onto her paper. Until she looked up again.

“I don’t see any locked cabinets in the bathroom or your bedroom, so how do you control your medication around the children?” She inquired, not meeting his eyes.

He took a deep breath, taking a moment to unclench his jaw. He should have expected this after the meeting with Julia.

“My meds are on the top shelf, none of the little ones can reach, even Lip needs to stand on something to reach up here.” Ian opened the cabinet and pointed.

“I gave the kids an honest talk about it all, they know all about my bipolar and that if they touch those meds they can get very sick and if the meds should disappear I could get sick too. But believe me, when Frank and Monica are around I have a few hiding places to fall back on,” he explained gruffly.

“Alright, Ian you keep saying your parents aren’t around but we have this listed as their primary address, would you care to enlighten me?” She pushed.

I’m sure you’ve seen our family’s case history. You know we were left alone a few times when me, Lip and Fiona were little, you know we’ve been in the system before ‘cause of that, so you don’t think that ever stopped do you? Frank would attend those bullshit parenting classes while we spent however many weeks or months in some foster home then we’d come home and the cycle would start again. When I dropped outta high school to take care of the kids full time and get a legit job so we could eat and pay bills it got worse.

“Last time we saw Frank, we had to change the locks after ‘cause he tried to take Liam as bait for panhandling, again. I’m done with him using Liam like a meal card, and he hasn’t been back since. Monica hasn’t been here since the last time she showed up to dump another baby on us, so almost two years. That’s why I’m petitioning for custody. These kids deserve better than someone who’s going to stroll in and out of their lives. I’m here every night, I gave up everything for them and I don’t regret it for a minute.”

Ian finished his rant with an odd sense of calm. He knew he’d done everything he possibly could for the kids; to feed them, to clothe them, to keep a roof over their heads. He only hoped it would be enough to prove to these people in suits that he was fit to be their parent for real. There was nothing more he could do, and as much as that hurt, the decision was out of his hands now.

“Well, thank you, Ian. I think I have everything I need. The case was presented to a judge this morning and, on learning we were not able to contact either of your parents, he did rule to extend the protective custody directive through the presentation of evidence. The date of the trial has been set for this coming Tuesday and we hope there is enough evidence you are fit to become permanent guardian to these children as we at the DCFS do believe in keeping families intact. You may also file an appeal and request Intact Family Services for the duration of the investigation if the judge rules to give the DCFS custody on Tuesday.” Brittany explained.

“Do you have any questions for me, Ian?” she asked, heading back towards the front door.

Ian shook his head “no”. “

“Alright Ian, see you on Tuesday,” and with that she was gone, leaving Ian and Mickey to the silence of the otherwise empty Gallagher home.

Chapter Text

“Mickey?” Ian prompted, idly drawing patterns on Mickey’s back with his fingertips.

“Hm?” The brunet responded sleepily, not moving his head from where he was resting on Ian’s chest.

“What did Kennedy mean when she said she owes you?” he probed gently, but Mickey sat up fast, scooting away from Ian, eyes darting around the room.

“Whoa, hey Mick, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me I was just wondering, with everything going on I know you’ve seen some shit too…” Ian instantly felt guilty for prying but it was more out of concern than anything.

“I just worry about you, Mick.” Ian shrugged, leaning in to drop a kiss on Mickey’s shoulder which was the only part of the brunet’s body he could reach from the other side of the bed.

“It’s a long story, Ian, I ain’t ever told anyone so just give me a minute, yeah,” Mickey answered quietly, still not looking at him.

“Yeah, of course, Mick, whenever you’re ready.” Ian reached his hand out towards Mickey, who took it nervously but moved back to lay with him all the same.

It took a long time for the two men to fall asleep that night, but soon their breathing evened out and when they woke up they were still wrapped tightly together; Ian’s face buried in Mickey’s hair, Mickey grasping tightly at Ian’s hip.

Chapter Text

“Come on Gallagher, gotta get moving to make it court on time, alright,” Mickey called, peering into the bedroom as he dried himself off after showering. Ian didn’t move. “Let’s go, sleepy face, got court today, gotta get up,” he tried again, moving to the bed to shake Ian gently.

“I- I can’t.” Ian’s voice was low and cracked, as though he’d been crying for hours but his face was devoid of emotion.

“What do you mean “can’t”.” He brushed the hair back from Ian’s forehead, placing his hand there checking for a fever.

“‘M not sick,” Ian whispered, still unmoving.

“Ian, is it the bipolar?” he prompted, sounding scared even to his own ears, but Ian remaind quiet.

“Okay, what do we do when this happens? I know you said somethin’ before about gettin’ you meds changed, but we can’t wait, you have to go to court today, you’re supposed to be gettin’ the kids back.” Mickey rubbed his face, trying to figure out what to do.

“What if I don’t, what if they are right?” Ian’s voice was barely audible.

“Fuck no, you ain’t sayin’ that. You’re the best thing these kids have got, fuck blood, you’re their Dad an’ Mom an’ nanny an’ cook an’ any other fuckin’ thing you can think of. Frank an’ Monica are useless shit-heads, you’ve fuckin’ raised these kids, given up every-fuckin’-thing, you’re gettin’ ‘em back an’ you’re goin’ to be their legal guardian,” Mickey retorted firmly, placing a kiss on Ian’s forehead.

“They need you, your kids need you, I- need you,” the brunet whispered, his voice cracking.

Somehow those words seemed to get through Ian’s fog. It often took hours or even days for the kids to be able to get through to him on a low swing, often they had to just ride it out, though recently it hadn’t been as hard or as frequent as his latest cocktail of meds seemed to be doing their job. But today was a day they couldn’t just ride out without him, it wasn’t like any other day where they just had to make their own breakfast and lunch and by the time dinner rolled around he would be up, helping them cook. No, today he had to be one hundred percent there.

With limbs feeling like led, Ian trudged to the bathroom to shower, hoping it would make him feel more alive while Mickey traipsed downstairs to make breakfast and extra strong coffee. He was sure they’d need it for today.

Chapter Text

Ian felt his legs quake as he walked into the courtroom, the only thing keeping him upright was the strong presence of Mickey who was walking so closely Ian could feel the warmth radiating between them and could smell his scent. Between those two things, Ian felt safe. Unfortunately, Ian had to sit at the front of the room beside his lawyer in front of the judge while Mickey was forced to stay at the back of the room, but just knowing he was there was enough.

Despite his lawyer explaining how the hearing would proceed, Ian was more nervous than he could remember being. In all those times he had been forced to step into the role of parent, survival instinct had kicked in and there had been no time to worry, but all he could do here was sit while someone else decided the future of his family. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and concentrated on keeping his breathing even so he wouldn’t lose control. This was not a good time or place to have a panic attack; not when he was trying to prove he was fit to be a legal guardian.

Some of the tension melted from Ian’s shoulders when the kids were ushered into the room by Brittany Sturgess, who carried Liam in her arms. Carl and Debbie waved to Ian with bright smiles on their faces and his heart fluttered to see that the five days they had spent apart had not destroyed their spirits. Brittany sat the kids in the front row behind her and she sat at the table where Ian vaguely remembered the prosecution sat in TV court shows. Which reminded him that he was sitting where the person on trial (known as the defense) would sit. His stomach dropped.

Next came Frank, directed by the woman Ian recognized as Lou, his lawyer, who had somehow been able to get him out of more trouble than Ian could believe. Frank’s schemes were never the smartest and Ian had always been surprised when his ‘father’ had never ended up in jail for more than a week. Today, Lou looked more irritated than he had ever seen and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Frank and Lou sat down at the same table as Ian and Julia; his dad tried to smirk at him, but Ian pointedly ignored it.

Once everyone was settled the Judge began.

“Today I am tasked with determining whether the children in this case have been abused, neglected, or dependant by Mr. Francis Gallagher and Mrs. Monica Gallagher. This case was brought to the attention of the Illinois Department of Child and Family Services by an anonymous tip that claimed the children had been left in the care of a family member who is unable to provide appropriate care and supervision due to mental illness. We also will be hearing the petition of Mr. Ian Gallagher to take custody of the children.”

Frank glared at his eldest son with a mixture of anger and confusion. Ian wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He was going to be soaked through by the end of the day. The transcript of the initial report to DCFS was read by the courtroom clerk and it made Ian both sick to his stomach and angry to hear the way the person who reported them spoke about his and Monica’s illness. They made him sound like someone who couldn’t even care for themselves, never mind five children. The caller seemed to know more details of his life than anyone outside of their family could possibly know, and many of the details were emphatically exaggerated. It took all his power not to stand up and scream that what they were saying about him was untrue.

Ian turned to look at the kids’ reactions to what was being said about him and he was surprised to see a range of emotions. Lip was furious, the redness creeping up his neck and ears was clear as day, and his features were twisted into an expression of anger. Fiona and Debbie looked sad; Fi was trying to shoot him a comforting smile, holding Liam tightly in her lap, whereas Debbie didn’t seem able to pull her focus from her hands twisting in her lap. Carl looked confused more than anything, as though he couldn’t believe someone would say those things about his big brother. His heart was in his boots.

Next, it was Lou’s turn to defend Frank to the judge, it was hard for Ian to stifle his laugh as the lawyer lamented his struggles with a bipolar wife and six kids while on disability after a work accident. Surprisingly she did defend Ian’s medical history, though he realized it was in Franks’s best interests if Ian was portrayed as a capable guardian since Frank had left the kids in his care, he would certainly be found negligent if he’d left them in the care of someone incompetent.

Once Lou was finished,the judge was presented with four videotapes; intake interviews with Lip, Fiona, Debbie, and Carl performed by Brittany. It was heartbreaking to watch on the small screen as they were each asked questions about their lives with Frank and Monica through the years. Carl was seemingly the only one with all pure memories of Frank, though they were few and far between.

Weeks and months often blurred together for Ian after he’d quit high school to work more to provide for the family, he was a little surprised just how often Frank had been out of the younger kids lives. Carl commented vaguely that Frank often taught him new things, but Ian thanked every deity he could think of that Carl didn’t go into detail because Ian was certain none of those things were legal and worried Carl would end up in trouble somehow. He did not trust the system that had failed his family so many times.

Debbie talked about how she missed Monica, but how Fiona had stepped up to be the female role model she so desperately craved. Fiona herself barely mentioned Frank and Monica, instead, she actively talked about all the things Ian had done for them over the years despite, or in spite of, their missing parents. Ian’s heart swelled with pride at her praise, and he wasn’t ashamed to brush a few stray tears from his eyes caused by Fiona’s words. Lip’s interview was mostly fueled by anger, ripping on Frank the most, with little to say about their mother and, like Fiona, Lip attributed their continued survival to Ian.

Ian tried to read the expression on the face of the judge once the tapes were finished and he called up each of the kids to expand on some of the things they had mentioned in the interviews. Carl seemed confident enough, nonchalantly answering anything asked of him. Debbie was very clearly nervous and kept looking between the judge, Frank, and Ian, the latter trying to give her a confident smile. Fiona kept her eyes trained on Ian, drawing confidence from his encouragement. Lip, however, kept his focus on the judge answering each question with clipped answers, and in the end telling the man he should just let Ian take them home and keep Frank here to rot forcing Ian to try to hold back a snigger and visibly made Frank’s blood boil. Once Lip was done the judge sat in silence for a long moment.

“Well, young Mr. Gallagher. It appears as though these youngsters look up to their big brother very much. I commend how much you have given up for them, sacrificing your own childhood for them. It seems the person who reported your family does not have a full picture of what happens in this home. Our expert witness, your doctor, believes you are fully capable of being a guardian to the children and so, on that charge, I do not believe DCFS has credible evidence that Mr. Francis Gallagher has abused or neglected these children, and the case will be labeled ‘unfounded’.
However, these interviews brought to the attention of myself and the DCFS a slew of other issues in the household, not least of which was that this court nor DCFS were able to contact you for three days and as of this morning we are still unable to get in touch with the mother, nor have you been able to give us a satisfactory answer as to why that is. This makes me concerned the parents in this case are not ready or willing to take care of the children. Ms. Sturgess, does DCFS have a resolution they wish to present?”

The judge looked to Brittany Sturgess who ruffled through her many folders before standing up to speak.

“We are concerned by the limited amount of care provided by Francis and Monica Gallagher, so we do have a solution that I think will benefit all parties involved as we do advocate for preserving families. I suggest, if he is willing, that Mr. Ian Gallagher be appointed plenary guardian while Francis and Monica take part in Intact Services. I believe counseling and parenting classes would benefit the parents; we would set goals they must achieve before they may resume guardianship. During this time Ian would be the legal guardian of the children giving him full legal rights to care for them as he sees fit until DCFS and this court deems the parents fit to resume their roles.”

A thoughtful smile crossed the judges’ features before the blank expression took its place once more as he cleared his throat to speak again.

“Young Mr. Gallagher, you have already submitted a request for guardianship to this court and in light of the evidence presented I see fit to follow the expert advice of Ms. Sturgess and name you guardian, do you agree to this appointment?”

“Yes, your honor.” Ian’s hands shook but a huge hopeful smile appeared on his face.

“Then, Ian Clayton Gallagher I hereby appoint you plenary guardian of Philip Ronan Gallagher, Fiona Margaret Gallagher, Deborah Monica Jean Gallagher, Carl Francis Hashish Gallagher, and Liam Fergus Beircheart Gallagher.” The judge slammed his gavel hard and Ian was out of his seat before the sound had finished echoing through the wood-paneled room.

The kids ran at Ian, wrapping themselves as tightly together as those winter nights when they had no money to pay the electric or gas bill and they all had to pile onto the sofa under a heap of blankets to try and keep away the cold. On those nights Ian had felt so despondent, as though he had failed them all, but today he felt full of elation and hopefulness. Nothing could take this moment away from them.

In the back of his mind, Ian could still hear the judge talking, addressing Frank, giving him orders on the requirements he had to meet, but Ian was too lost in his own ecstasy to listen or care. There was just one thing missing. He looked up, head whipping around until he spotted the brunet with a knowing smile on his face. Their gazes locked for a moment and Mickey nodded, moving towards the family. Mickey placed a firm hand on Ian’s shoulder and in that moment Ian knew for certain he loved the blue-eyed man with every fiber of his being and, just like the kids, nobody could take that away from him.

Chapter Text

It took hours for Ian to get everyone to bed that night. Lip was sharing beers and blunts with Kev, Fiona and Debbie were dancing around the room with Vee, Carl was hollering about never having to make his bed again and running around the house trying to find all of the weapons Ian had gotten rid of or hidden for the home inspection, and little Liam went between being passed out on the couch and jumping into Fiona’s arms.

In the midst of all the chaos, Ian sat curled up with Mickey in the oversized armchair by the window, watching his family express their joy in their own ways. They were all home, they were all safe.

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Mick,” Ian whispered, nuzzling into the sensitive spot behind Mickey’s ear. A blush rose in the brunet’s cheeks and batted Ian away from his ear. The redhead only moved back enough to look into glistening blue eyes. “I mean it, my family is whole again because of you.”

A small huff was all the response Ian received before pink pillowy lips were pressing tenderly against his own smooth thin ones. The kiss was unhurried, it felt like coming home and lit a fire in his belly that warmed his soul.

Their lips broke apart but they didn’t move far, their breath mingling hotly between open mouths. Mickey sighed quietly, eyes closed, dark lashes splayed across his cheekbones.

“I love you,” Mickey murmured, eyes fluttering open to meet Ian’s.

“I love you, too,” Ian breathed, ducking back in to kiss Mickey with all the strength he could muster.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe the kids have been home a month.” Ian was staring at the ceiling of the bedroom that was now theirs with Mickey laying resting his head on Ian’s bare chest with his eyes closed while they came down from their post-orgasm highs.

“I fuckin’ can, feels like eons that Carl’s been buggin’ me to teach him to use that fuckin’ benchtop lathe I’ve been refurbing. I keep wonderin’ when the kid is gonna realize I’m fixin’ shit, not blowin’ it up,” Mickey chuckled, letting his fingers trace idly over Ian’s chest.

“Hey, Mick?”

“Hm?” Mickey opened his eyes.

“You know I’m going to have to stay here for at least 16 years, until Liam’s 18, right? Maybe we won’t be in this house but I won’t leave him behind. I’m responsible for them now, until they’re all adults, even then, I won’t walk away from them.”

He was so happy to finally be father to the five kids he had raised; raised to be loyal and industrious and fierce,  he would never leave them, even if Mickey couldn’t handle it. But despite his own self doubt, Mickey had proved he was sure of his own place in the Gallagher family.

“Yeah, so?” Mickey shrugged.

“Just don’t want you to feel- to feel trapped- like you have to stay in the South Side for me, you got out, I don’t want to be the thing that traps you all over again,” Ian mumbled.

“I’m not trapped, I wanna be here, end of story.” Mickey reached up, kissing Ian softly before nuzzling back into his chest, breathing slowly for a few moments before continuing…

“I fucked up before, when I was a kid, I got myself thrown in juvie and left Mandy to deal with Terry alone. I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t. You managed to protect your family. I guess my punishment for not protecting her was having to live with Terry until he got thrown back in the can.”

“Is that what Kennedy meant, about her owing you, was she your lawyer then?”

“No, no she doesn’t do that criminal shit, she does family, it’s separate. She tried to get me out from under Terry’s hold too, tried to get me into our aunts’ custody, but I was in juvie.” Mickey paused for a moment stealing himself.  

“Mandy and Rande were tryin’ to move out of state and the courts didn’t think it was a good idea for my guardian to be out of state when I was stuck in a detention center in Illinois. They didn’t think Terry posed as much of a threat to me bein’ a guy, seeing as there weren’t any records of him hurtin’ Colin or Iggy. They thought goin’ back to what I was used to when I got out was better than changing up my life or whatever. The fuckin’ pigs thought they knew what was best for me, but they had no idea and nothin’ Kennedy said would change their minds,” he growled.

“Mandy said they could stay in Chicago, but like fuck would I let her, she needed to get away from him more than me, I could deal, she needed to be safe. Kennedy just feels bad ‘cause she couldn’t do shit for me,” Mickey finished with a tone of defeat, as though he had long ago accepted he’d never get away from Terry.

In a way that was true, that was exactly what Mickey thought. For the most part, Mickey tried his best to be optimistic these days, tried to be himself without fear of his father’s wrath shoving him back in the closet. Terry was in prison now, he couldn’t hurt Mickey anymore. But even still, maybe one day Terry would get parole again, or medical furlough when he was old and gray, and Mickey didn’t doubt that even sick and frail Terry would come for him, and that thought always lingered in the back of Mickey’s mind no matter how many months and years passed.

“You might not have been able to stop him from hurting her, but you let her go, you let her leave Chicago and put yourself in Terry’s sights so that she could be free. You saved her Mick and I think that’s fucking amazing,” Ian retorted firmly, planting a kiss in Mickey’s hair and running his fingers soothingly up and down his back. “So fucking brave and selfless,” Ian murmured, hands grasping Mickey’s face, tilting it up to mold their lips together in a passionate kiss.

Ian had always thrived in chaos; being forced to find a way to organize it kept him focused and driven as he worked to keep his family together. With Mickey by his side, he finally understood what people meant when they said they felt content.

Yes, he was still working two jobs to feed them and keep the heat on, yes the threat of the Head Start program closing hung over his head, but now he didn't have to face it alone. Mickey pitching in a share on the bills helped, but to Ian the most valuable thing Mickey provided him was his love.

With Mickey by his side Ian felt like he could do anything, not in the way he felt when he was manic and thought he was invincible, but rather that with Mickey by his side as his rock they could weather any storm as long as they were together. Ian couldn't be happier than with his partner and his family by his side.