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Chapter Text

Ian couldn’t move.  His body felt like lead, like weights were holding him down onto the bed.  Why couldn’t he move? He blinked his eyes a few times, and his eyelids felt like sandpaper rubbing against his corneas.  His mouth felt like a desert, but he couldn’t even muster up the energy to reach for the bottle of water on his nightstand. He thought he felt okay when he went to bed last night, but he supposed that he maybe was a little down.  Well, a lot down actually.  Shit. He knew what was happening.  

He felt like he was a burden to everyone.  He was all alone in his off-campus apartment, and he had no one.  He supposed he could call his family, but they would just worry, maybe even lecture him about not taking his meds.  The thing was, he was taking his meds.  But things like this still happened.  Why did this keep happening?  Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t he just get better?  Wasn’t the medication supposed to do that, make him normal?

As he lay in his bed, flat on his back, he felt tears stream out of the corners of his eyes and down his temples onto his pillow.  Maybe he just shouldn’t be here anymore.  He would be doing everyone a favor.  

He’d had these thoughts before during depressive episodes, but there was always someone around.  He’d always been in the Gallagher house surrounded by his family, nosey and loud as they were.  But he was never alone.  This is exactly what everyone had worried about when Ian said he wanted to live near campus.  He was in his third year at the University of Illinois, Chicago, and he was finally living in his own apartment in the West Loop.  It was tiny, which was fine.  It was all he could afford, working as a barista in a café on campus.  But he’d wanted independence, and a bit more convenience in terms of access to campus.  Living at home, he’d been about an hour away via public transit, so the convenience factor was huge.  His family had fought him tooth and nail about being on his own, but he really didn’t have any friends, so who would he live with?  He didn’t want to put out an ad for a roommate and end up with some weirdo, whom he knew nothing about.  He had his fair share of weirdos at his night job.  

A part-time barista’s wages were not quite enough to get by, having his own apartment in the West Loop, no matter how tiny it was.  So he had started working for an escort agency to help pay the bills.  Ian was not a prostitute, and that distinction was very important to him, given some of the things that he’d gone through in the past.  He meant absolutely no disrespect to sex workers, but he had been there, done that in his club days, and he didn’t want to do it again.  The escort agency that he worked for was supposedly “high-end,” and it was for clients looking for arm candy, no sex involved (unless explicitly agreed upon in advance).  His client last night, however, had been very handsy, and when Ian had rejected his advances, he was none too thrilled to say the least. 

“What else is a whore like you good for?” ran through Ian’s mind over and over.  Those were the words that the man had said to him when his advances were rejected.  And maybe he was right.  Maybe he wasn’t good for anything else.   

He needed to talk to someone.  He knew that when he had intrusive thoughts it was dangerous to be alone with them.  He remembered seeing a number posted on campus, on a bulletin board somewhere, for the campus crisis counseling center.  He had snapped a picture of it just for the hell of it.  Obviously a part of him just knew that he might need it at some point.  

Who the fuck was he kidding? As if he could become a nurse when he was this fucked up in the head.  He was working towards his bachelor of science in nursing, but he couldn’t even be by himself for an extended period of time.  How could he take care of other people?

He picked up his phone from where it lay next to him on the bed, opened up his photos, and pulled up the picture he’d taken of the crisis support number.  As the tears in his eyes blurred his vision, he squinted to see the number.  He took a deep breath and typed the number into his phone. 

It only rang once before someone answered.  

A woman’s voice greeted him and asked for the nature of his call so she could direct him to the right place.  He simply responded, “Um, I’m thinking about…hurting myself.”

He was to be promptly transferred to a crisis counselor, according to the woman.

After a very brief hold, he heard a man’s voice on the other line.  “Hi, my name is Mickey and I’m here to help you in any way that I can.”

The tears that had been welling up in his eyes and blurring his vision chose that very moment to fall.  He couldn’t stop it.  Something about the man’s voice caused the dam to break.  The voice sounded…kind, but like he’d been through something.  And how he could tell from just one sentence spoken by the man, he had no idea, but…he just could. 

As Ian just silently sobbed on the other end of the line, the man—Mickey, he remembered—gently asked, “What’s your name?”

“Ian,” he choked out.

“Ian, are you safe right now? Where are you?”

“Um, I’m at home.  My apartment.”

“Are you safe there?”

“Um, I don’t, I don’t know.”

“Ok, Ian,” Mickey said gently, “Can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Uh I guess I’m just thinking that I’m worthless and just a burden to everyone.”

“What makes you think that? Did something happen that you want to talk about?”

“I’m just…always making everyone worry.  Everyone always worries about me.  I’m bipolar, just like my mom.  And she killed herself.  Everyone in my family seemed so much lighter once she was gone, except me.  They all think I’m just like her, maybe they’ll feel the same if I’m gone.”

“Ian, is there someone you can call right now?” Mickey asked.

“No, that’s why I’m calling this fucking number,” Ian said frustratedly.

“Okay.  Well I’m here for you to talk to.  And I want you to know that no one wants you to do that.  I don’t know your family obviously, but I can’t imagine that they would be happy if you were gone.  Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Ian said in almost a whisper.

“I’ve been in the same place that you are right now.  ‘M not bipolar, but lots of stuff goes on in my head.  Like sometimes it just feels like it’s too much. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah, I get that.  I feel that way sometimes too.”

Mickey continued, “I’ve thought about hurting myself before. And thank god it didn’t go the way it could’ve gone, because I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now.”

“That’s so corny,” Ian said with a slight chuckle, even through the tears and snot clogging his throat.

“Well did it work at least?” Ian couldn’t see him, but he could hear the smirk in his voice.

“A little, I guess,” Ian conceded.  Truth be told, he did feel better just from talking to this stranger.

“What do you like to do? Like when I’m feeling like there’s just too much in my head, I like to just take a walk and look at stuff.  And sometimes draw it, but who knows if I’m any good at it.  I just like to do it.”

“Well um, I guess I like to listen to music,” Ian said.

“Ok, perfect.  What kind of music do you like?”

“Basically top 40 stuff, but also 80’s music, especially like New Wave stuff.”

“Fuck yeah, I love that shit,” Mickey all but shouted, abandoning any modicum of professionalism.  Ian couldn’t help but smile. 

Mickey, clearly realizing his slip, cleared his throat and said, “Uh, so you like, uh, Depeche Mode?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Ian answered.

“That’s actually a really shitty example, most of their stuff is actually pretty fuckin dark. Shit.”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh again.  This guy was so fucking…cute? Shit. He really had a knack for picking them at the exact wrong times.  Jesus Christ.

Mickey continued, “Listen to ‘Just Can’t Get Enough,’ crank it up, dance around in your undies or something.  You can’t beat it.  Instant mood-lifter. Works for me every time.”

Despite his unconventional approach—because although Ian hadn’t called one of these hotlines before, he was pretty damn sure this was not the conventional approach—Ian couldn’t deny that he felt much better already.  He was still being pulled into the undercurrent of depression, but the immediate thoughts of self-harm had slightly dissipated. For the time being, at least.

“Hey, Ian?” Mickey said, seemingly switching back into professional mode.

“Yeah?” Ian said quietly.

“I’m assuming that you have a regular doctor that you see for your bipolar disorder?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you promise me that you’ll call your doctor as soon as we get off the phone? If you can’t do it, then I can call for you, just give me the number.”

“No, I‘ll do it, I promise.”

“Ok.  If you start having thoughts about hurting yourself again, or if you just need to talk, please call. My direct extension here is 6683, so you can just punch that in as soon as you call and it’ll go straight to me.”

Ian quickly entered Mickey’s extension into his phone notes. 

“Call me after you’ve talked to your doctor too, ok? I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Ok, I will.”

“Ian? Can you tell me if you’re still feeling unsafe?”

“Um, I feel safe for now.”

“Ok, Ian.  I’m going to let you go so you can call your doctor, but please don’t hesitate to call whenever you need to, alright?”

“Ok.  Thanks, Mickey. Bye.”

With that, Ian hung up the phone.  He did exactly what he promised Mickey he would do, and called his doctor to schedule an appointment to come in later that day. He knew he was going to need a medication adjustment and to be closely monitored for the coming weeks.  He still couldn’t get out of bed, but his thoughts drifted to the voice that he’d just spent only a few minutes with over the phone. 

Chapter Text

Mickey was a fucking idiot.  He couldn’t believe it when he hung up the phone.  He hadn’t gotten Ian’s phone number or address, not even his fucking last name. This was information that he was supposed to get on every single phone call. As a campus-based service, this information was important, since they were legally and ethically responsible for the students’ care and safety. Piece of shit phones didn’t have caller ID, and they obviously couldn’t force people to give their information, but they were always supposed to ask. 

There was just something about the voice over the phone.  He got so caught up in making sure Ian was okay, and then just talking to him, that every protocol had somehow gone out the fucking window.  If something happened to Ian and he hadn’t gathered his contact information so that they could make sure he was safe, it would be 100% Mickey’s fault.  What the fuck was wrong with him? He just hoped and prayed that Ian called him back.

Mickey had been working as a crisis counselor to earn clinical practicum hours to go towards his degree.  He was in his fourth year at UIC, studying to be a behavioral counselor, so this experience was invaluable.  He actually only had a few days left of his contract with the crisis center for this semester, and then he would be doing fieldwork off-campus.

If you’d have told Mickey five years ago that this is where he’d be, he probably would’ve punched you in the face.  Five years ago he was a scared teenager, trying to hide his true self from his homophobic father, going along with whatever illegal activity he forced him to do.  He was running drugs and guns, and he was the guy that everyone at school went to if they wanted the good stuff. 

On one occasion, a boy at school had offered to blow Mickey in exchange for some weed, and Mickey had readily accepted.  He got his first blowjob from a boy right there under the bleachers, and afterwards, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if he returned the favor.  He thought about sucking that boy’s cock.  What would it look like, what would it feel like? It made his mouth water just thinking about it.  And it scared the shit out of him.  Just because he got a blowjob from a guy didn’t mean he was gay, right? A warm mouth was a warm mouth, right? But that rationale all fell apart when he realized how much he fantasized about getting his own mouth around a hard cock.

He experimented more and more with putting his fingers in his ass while he jerked off, and fuck, he really, really liked it.  But that was as far as it went.  He got a couple more blowjobs in exchange for weed from that same boy under the bleachers, and then it all came crashing down one day.  

He didn’t know how his dad found out about the blowjobs he got from that boy, and he still doesn’t.  But it doesn’t matter.  He found out.  And it resulted in the beating of his life.  His piece of shit dad, Terry, beat Mickey so badly that he was laid up in bed for at least two weeks, with broken ribs, a concussion, a gash above his eyebrow that definitely needed stitches but was superglued together by his sister Mandy, and various bruises, cuts, bumps, god knows what else.  All he knew was that he could barely move. He’d had thoughts about ending it all during that time; he’d stared long and hard at the bottle of painkillers that Mandy had brought him and strongly considered just taking them all.  If Mandy hadn’t come in right at that very moment, he might have actually done it. 

When he had healed somewhat, Terry didn’t delay in putting the next part of his plan into place.  He was going to teach Mickey a “lesson” about “what happens to little fags.”  On the fateful night in question, Terry forced Mickey to go to Boystown with him, find a twink coming out of one of the clubs, and help him beat the guy within an inch of his life.  Mickey didn’t have a choice in the matter.  Terry had made it very clear that the gun used to pistol-whip the guy would be quickly turned on Mickey if he refused. 

Terry and Mickey were both arrested that night.  Terry was on parole, so he was put away for a long, long time.  He was still in prison, and Mickey desperately hoped that he would die in prison. Mickey was put in juvenile detention for 9 months. 

While he was in juvie, he was forced to see a counselor.  The last thing Mickey had wanted to do was talk about the abuse he had endured all his life.  And it truly was his whole life.  Terry had beaten on him since he was a little kid, along with his brothers and sister.  No one was safe, except for the fact that Mickey would often take the beatings for Mandy in order to protect her.  But he couldn’t protect her from everything. There were times that he’d see Terry stumble into her bedroom drunk, and he didn’t want to think about what he was doing, but he knew in his gut. And every time he thought about it, bile would rise in his throat and guilt would eat away at him.  He knew he couldn’t have done anything to stop it—Terry would’ve beat the shit out of him—-but it didn’t stop the guilt from always being there. 

His counselor in juvie, Tara, made him talk about all of this, and it pissed him off.  Eventually, though, he started to see the benefits of it, and she was the one who convinced him to pursue behavioral counseling.  She saw the potential in him to help others with everything that he’d been through.  He got his high school diploma in juvie, and ultimately was able to get into college. 

Now, in this moment, his thoughts kept drifting back to Ian.  He tried to think of a way to fix his fuck-up. He had access to the school directory, since he was working at the crisis center, so he had the idea to try and look him up.  There couldn’t be that many students at the university named Ian, right? Wrong. There were a shitload of Ians.  Was Ian that common of a name? What the fuck? It was just his luck. 

All he could really do now was hope and pray that Ian called back on his direct line. 

He thought again about the conversation that he’d had with Ian.  It sounded so familiar, the brokenness in his voice.  He knew exactly how Ian felt in that moment.  He had intrusive thoughts more often than he’d care to admit honestly, and they mostly revolved around that night. He still had nightmares about it, and he had crippling anxiety for which he’d finally started taking medication.

Mickey recognized himself in Ian’s voice, and he couldn’t shake it.  And something about talking to him had come so damn easily.  He could’ve kicked himself for being so unprofessional with comments about—what the fuck—dancing in his underwear? Jesus Christ, Milkovich, you fucking dumbass.  What the fuck was he doing? He really didn’t know, but he knew he wanted to talk to Ian again.

As his shift ended, he was pulled from his thoughts by Mandy walking in to meet him for a late lunch.  Mandy had thankfully been able to get into the same college as Mickey, where she was studying business and marketing.  It worked out perfectly, as they were able to get an apartment together in the West Loop. Mandy and Mickey were Irish twins, with Mandy being only 11 months younger.  Because of Mickey’s delayed start to college due to being in juvie, they ended up both starting at the same time.  

“Hey, let’s go to the café near the humanities building.  There’s a hot redhead who works there.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes and headed out the door after Mandy.

Chapter Text

“Shit, he must not be working today,” Mandy said dejectedly as she and Mickey walked into the café and she quickly looked to the coffee counter to find her favorite barista. “Weird, he always works at this time.”

“What are you, some kinda fuckin' stalker or something? That’s creepy as shit,” Mickey said.

“Fuck you, just because I happen to come here after class to get a coffee around this time every day and happen to see him doesn’t mean I’m stalking him.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mickey said with an eye-roll. “There’s no other dick you can hop on around here, you gotta stalk the poor coffee shop guy?”

“Shut up, Ian’s a nice guy, I’m not trying to hop on his dick…yet,” Mandy said with a smirk.

But Mickey’s heart felt like it leapt into his throat. “Ian?” he said with a rough swallow.

“Yeah, that’s what his name tag says.”

Mickey quickly shook himself out of any thoughts that it could be the same Ian from the phone call earlier.  After all, he’d looked it up himself and there were like a million Ians on campus it seemed. 

He quickly changed the subject before his thoughts started spiraling.  “So, uh, how are your classes?” he asked Mandy.

“Ugh, fine, except the fuckin’ math classes that I have to take.  Such bullshit.  Don’t know why I need to know that shit.”

“Probably because you’re majoring in business and I guess you need to know how to deal with numbers if you own a business…ya know, like as in money?  Profits? Shit like that?  Jesus, you’re a dumbass sometimes,” Mickey said with exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Mandy responded with an accompanying hand gesture.  “Anyway, speaking of hopping on dicks, you been getting any action lately?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey responded, feeling a flush rising along the back of his neck.

Mandy was of course aware of Mickey’s sexual orientation; how could she not be?  After all, it had been the entire reason for Terry beating the absolute shit out of him and forcing him to help almost kill someone just for being gay.  So she knew, of course.  She also knew that Mickey was still completely uncomfortable with his sexuality, and really hadn’t acted upon it since everything went down. 

“Mickey, you can’t just hide out forever.  I want you to be happy.  Go out, try to meet someone. Terry’s gone, he’s probably going to die in prison, god-willing, and there’s nothing he can do.  Why don’t you download Grindr or something?”

“‘M not gonna download Grindr, fuck you,” Mickey mumbled, staring down into his cup of coffee and fiddling with the cardboard cup sleeve.  

Mandy just heaved a sigh.  “Ok, have it your way.  You know I just want you to find someone.  I’m tired of you being so grumpy all the time.  You need someone to put a smile on that face, and if it happens to be because of some good dick, then all the better.”

Mickey just shook his head, having no response to that.  It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t want that too; but he just didn’t know how to go about it, and truthfully, he was still scared to put himself out there.  And at this point, he had waited so long that he was inexperienced and it was embarrassing as fuck.  He’d basically only had a handful of blowjobs from a few different guys, and that was about it.  He’d of course fucked a couple of girls back when he was a teenager and he was expected to, but his experience with guys went as far as the guy under the bleachers and a couple of other dudes who’d blown him on the two uncomfortable occasions that he’d forced himself to go to a gay bar near the university.  

Mandy knew well enough to change the subject at that point, and continued to prattle on about her classes, some hot guy that sat next to her in one of them, and a bunch of other stuff that Mickey was really paying zero attention to.   

When they left the café, they headed back to their apartment, and despite the early hour, Mickey decided to turn in.  As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted back to Ian again. A combination of feelings swirled around inside of him—worry, guilt, hope, curiosity.  He was worried about Ian’s well-being, first and foremost; he hoped that he’d been in to see his doctor, or that he’d at least made an appointment.  He still felt guilty about his stupid mistake of not asking for his phone number, or really any other information that would allow any kind of follow-up from the center.  He desperately hoped that Ian would call again with an update, and that he would use Mickey’s direct extension.  And he was increasingly curious about this person who’d sparked more feelings in Mickey, just from a 15-minute phone conversation, than he’d felt in a very, very long time.

Mickey was only working at the center for two more days before he started his fieldwork, so he really hoped that he would hear from Ian tomorrow.

The next morning, Ian found that he still couldn’t get out of bed.  He knew, of course, that this was how it went.  It didn’t go away after just one day, and the medication adjustment needed some time to kick in, but it still made him feel like shit.  Yesterday, after he’d gotten off the phone with Mickey, he’d immediately called his doctor—just like he’d promised Mickey he would do—and got an appointment to come in later that afternoon.  He had made the excruciatingly painful decision to call his brother, Lip, to see if he would be able to take him.  He really, really didn’t want to call any of his siblings, because he just knew what the reaction would be—Are you taking your meds?  Are you sure you didn’t forget any doses? Do you really think it’s a good idea living here all by yourself?  See, what did we tell you? —but he knew that in his current state it would be really difficult to get to the doctor by himself.  

Thankfully, Lip had been able to take off early from his job at the bike shop, and he came over to help Ian get to his appointment. He was surprisingly tight-lipped with the “I told you so’s,” and Ian was grateful for that.  When Lip had asked him why he didn’t call sooner, Ian just explained that he didn’t want to bother anyone, but he did tell him that he’d called the campus crisis center for help.  Lip had just nodded and said, “Okay, that’s, uh, good that you did that. I’m glad they have a place like that on campus.”  Ian agreed.

Once he had gone through the whole rigmarole with his psychiatrist, complete with new prescriptions to fill, they stopped by the pharmacy and went back to Ian’s apartment.  Lip had expressed to him that he didn’t want to leave him alone, but he needed to get back to Tami and the baby.  Ian assured him that he would be fine.  And that was that.

Now, here he was, the next day and still not feeling much different.  The one glimmer of light that he felt was remembering that he needed to call Mickey to let him know that he’d done what he promised. There were so many other thoughts weighing him down at the moment, including the realization that he hadn’t shown up for work at the café yesterday and would need to call his boss to explain.  Hopefully he wouldn’t get fired. He’d also missed his classes yesterday and would undoubtedly be missing them today.  Oh well, he would e-mail his professors at some point he supposed. 

But first things first.  He picked up his phone and opened his notes app, where he’d jotted down Mickey’s direct extension.  Going to his call log and finding the number that he’d dialed yesterday, he connected the call and waited.  

When he was given a prompt to enter an extension or wait for the receptionist to answer, he promptly entered Mickey’s extension.  After only one ring, he heard that familiar voice again. “Hi, I’m Mickey, and I’m here to help you.”

He heard that same sincerity in his voice and felt that strange sense of connection that he’d felt the first time.  He cleared his throat.

“Uh, hi Mickey.  It’s Ian…from yesterday?” He suddenly felt unsure of himself.  Like why did he think that Mickey would even remember him?  He probably had tons of calls each day, and calls like his were probably a dime a dozen.

Suddenly, Ian heard a hitched breath followed by a strong exhale coming from the other line. It almost sounded like…relief?

“Hi, Ian.  I was really hoping you’d call.  I’m so happy to hear from you. How are you feeling?”

Ok, so Mickey did remember him…at least it sure sounded like he did.

“Um, I’m ok, I guess.  I still can’t really get out of bed, still, um, stuck in a low, but I went to the doctor yesterday and got a meds adjustment.  Those always knock me on my ass for a few days regardless. Yeah, so, uh, I actually ended up calling my brother and he took me.”

“That’s great, Ian, I’m glad that you had someone to take you.”

Ian wanted to say more, wanted to find out more about Mickey, but he knew that it wasn’t appropriate.  Mickey wasn’t interested in him as a person, he told himself, it was just his job.  But every time that Mickey spoke, he just sounded so damn sincere, like he really and truly cared.

After a beat of silence, Mickey awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “So, uh, did you get a chance to listen to the music we talked about yesterday?”

Ian let out a soft laugh.  He couldn’t believe he was even able to muster up the ability to smile, let alone give any semblance of a laugh in his current state.  

“Um, no, not yet.  Not quite up to dancing around in my underwear yet.  But maybe in a couple of days.”

Ian heard Mickey chuckle, and he could hear the slight embarrassment in it.  “Uh, yeah.  But maybe just putting on some music that you like would make you feel better?  What other kinds of music do you like?”

Ian and Mickey continued to talk for another 30 minutes about music, which then led to them talking about anything and everything that came up.

They ended up finding out that they were both from basically the same neighborhood in southside Chicago, which Ian couldn’t believe.  

“That’s crazy,” Ian said. “I feel like I definitely would’ve remembered you.”

“You don’t even know what I look like,” Mickey laughed.

“Yeah, but I know what you sound like.  I would’ve remembered your voice.  I guess we just never crossed paths.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” Mickey said, and it was so soft that Ian barely heard it.  

“Um, what about your family? I told you about all of my siblings and how they find the need to try and run my life in any way that they can, what about you?  Do you have any siblings? What’s your family like?”

The sudden silence was deafening.  Ian knew that he was getting too personal.  Shit, this was a guy that worked at a crisis hotline, for Christ’s sake.  What the fuck was he thinking?  Just because he felt the need to share a bunch of shit about his own life didn’t mean that Mickey was obligated to do the same.  In fact, he was pretty sure it was probably crossing some kind of professional line or something if he did.

Suddenly, Mickey broke the silence.  “Um, yeah, I’m actually off the clock in just a couple of minutes, so I’d better go. But thanks for calling back Ian, and don’t hesitate to call again any time you need to.”

Mickey promptly hung up at that.  Ian knew he had fucked up.  He always had to fucking push it, didn’t he?  He couldn’t just let it be, he had to push.  He would try to call tomorrow and apologize, and he hoped that Mickey would accept.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Mickey had royally fucked up.  He basically just hung up on someone who’d initially called in distress, having intrusive thoughts about self-harm.  Ian seemed to be in a much better head space when he talked to him just now, but still…he let a simple fucking question about his family get to him, and he just froze.  His fight or flight response immediately kicked in and he chose flight.  He’d been enjoying the conversation with Ian so much, probably more so than was professionally appropriate, given his role as a crisis counselor.  But then he had pussied out and completely left Ian hanging.  And what’s worse, he had been so engaged in conversation with Ian and then had ended the conversation so abruptly, that he still didn’t get Ian’s contact information.  He just couldn’t believe how much he was fucking up this entire situation.  He really hoped that Ian called back again, especially since tomorrow was Mickey’s last day at the call center.  But with the way things had been going, maybe it would be for the best if Ian talked to someone else instead.

Chapter Text

Ian couldn’t stop thinking about Mickey for the rest of the night.  He still wasn’t able to manage getting out of bed for anything other than taking a piss, but he at least managed to call his boss at the café to explain what had happened.  As much as he didn’t want to share it with anyone, and really didn’t feel that it was anyone’s business, he knew that something like this might end up happening, so he had disclosed his mental health condition soon after he was hired.  Luckily, he didn’t get fired, but he assured his boss that he would be able to come in to work the next day. He knew that it was ridiculous to make such a promise, because who knew if he’d be up to it tomorrow, but he did it anyway.

There had also been a couple of escort gigs that he’d been offered that he had to reject due to his downswing.  He knew that regular clients got pissed off when they didn’t get their preferred escort, so he was prepared for that.  But it was what it was.  Nothing he could do about it now.  

As he lay in bed that night, still feeling heavy and weighed down—but not like he was almost two days ago, when he felt like he was crawling through quicksand to even move—he thought about Mickey.  He would call again tomorrow, and he would apologize.  

Mickey went into the crisis counseling center that day to start his shift, both hoping that Ian would call his extension directly, but also hoping that he would call and talk to someone else.  He wasn’t what was best for Ian right now.  He was becoming too personally involved, and yesterday he let his own emotions and anxiety interfere with his ability to help him.   Fuck, he couldn’t be doing that when it could mean the difference between life and death.  Maybe he was too fucked up in the head to even be able to do this job.  He shouldn’t be counseling anyone when he himself was messed up, who was he kidding?

Suddenly, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and his chest felt tight.  He sat down on the floor right beside the entrance to the center and tried to do his breathing exercises that he’d practiced over and over again, from the first time that he’d learned them from Tara in juvie.  

“Hey, Mickey, you okay?,” he heard Jaclyn, one of his fellow interns, say.  Mickey just shook his head and continued trying to control his breathing.

Jaclyn sat down next to him and immediately began breathing with him. “In, one, two, three, four; out, one, two, three, four…” over and over, until Mickey’s breathing evened out.

“Thanks,” Mickey said with his head down, feeling embarrassed as hell.

“No need to thank me, just want to make sure you’re okay,” Jaclyn said.

“Um, yeah, ‘m fine,” Mickey mumbled.

“Okay,” Jaclyn said skeptically, “I’m here if you want to talk, yeah?”

Mickey just nodded and Jaclyn left him alone.

He slowly stood up from the floor and headed to his desk.  Just as he sat down, his phone rang.

Ian woke up that morning feeling slightly better. He actually thought that he might be able to go into work this afternoon as promised.  He hadn’t showered in a couple of days, so he pulled himself out of bed, showered, took his meds, and made himself some breakfast.  He knew that the crisis counseling center’s regular hours started at 9, even though they had after-hours options available, so he knew that Mickey wouldn’t be in until then.  Of course, he didn’t really even know Mickey’s work hours, so he was chancing it, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

At just a little after 10 am, Ian went ahead and called the center, punching in Mickey’s extension right away.  Mickey answered after a few rings this time.  Usually, it only rang once.  When he answered, Ian could tell he sounded quiet, a bit shakier than normal.  But he still gave his usual, sincere greeting. “Hi, my name is Mickey, and I’m here to help you in any way that I can. Can you tell me your name?”

“Hi, Mickey, it’s Ian,” he said, somewhat tentatively.  He wasn’t sure if Mickey was angry, or if he’d even want to talk to him. 

“Hi,” Mickey said so softly that it was almost a whisper.  “Um, I’m sorry about yesterday.  I shouldn’t have cut you off like that and left you hanging.  I’m really sorry.”

Mickey’s voice was shaky.  He knew he must’ve been whispering because he probably didn’t want anyone else to hear, but he didn’t know why his voice would be trembling.

“It’s okay, Mickey.  I overstepped.  I shouldn’t have asked you about anything personal.”

“No, it’s not okay. You called because you were in crisis and I cut you off.  I can’t believe I did that.” Mickey took a quivering breath and said, “You have every right to ask me questions.  Especially when you were telling me personal things about yourself.  We were having a conversation.  It’s just…I have a lot of stuff going on in my head.  Remember how I said that the first time we talked?”

“Yeah.” Ian did remember.

“I just get, um, anxiety, and there’s just a lot of stuff in my past that still messes me up, you know?  Like with my family.  Um, mostly my dad.”

“I get it, Mickey.  My family is fucked up too.  But you know that you can talk to me about it, I’m sure I’d understand.  My parents were both fuck-ups.  I told you a little about my mom, but don’t even get me started on my dad…who’s actually not really even my biological dad.  Apparently my mom fucked his brother and voila, I appeared nine months later.  The only good thing about my parents was that at least they didn’t give a shit when they found out I was gay.  That’s more than I can say for a lot of people, especially where we’re from.”

Ian could’ve sworn he heard a sharp intake of breath at that, and then what followed was deafening silence.

Mickey then cleared his throat and spoke, “Yeah, I, uh, didn’t have it so easy in that department.”

Then it was Ian’s turn to gasp slightly.  On an exhale, he said, “You’re gay?” and then quickly followed it with, “Shit, sorry, that’s none of my business, you don’t have to answer that, fuck, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.  Um, yeah, I am.”

It was then that Ian heard the telltale sound that his phone made when it was running low on battery power.  Shit, he hadn’t even plugged it into the charger last night.  

As Ian searched for his charger, he continued, “Well, um, thanks for telling me that, Mickey.  I’m sorry that you went through stuff, and you don’t have to talk about it, but if you want to, I would love to listen and be that person for you.  I know sometimes we just need to get shit off of our chests.”

“Yeah, um, thanks,” Mickey said shakily

Ian still couldn’t find his goddamn charger.  But he wanted to let Mickey know that he wasn’t hanging up on him, just in case his phone died. “Hey, if the phone cuts off it’s because my phone is about to die, and I can’t find my fucking charger.  Fuck–”

Well, there it was.  His phone died.  And he really hadn’t anticipated that conversation taking it out of him like it did. Suddenly, he was exhausted.  He finally located the phone charger that he’d been searching for, plugged his phone in, and crawled back into bed.  

Shit.  Ian’s phone died.  The call cut off before Mickey could talk to him more, before he could ask for his number or his last fucking name, for Christ’s sake.  And… Fuck.  Before he could tell him it was his last day at the crisis call center.  If Ian called back tomorrow, Mickey wouldn’t be there.  Fucking fuck. Mickey held his head in his hands, hoping and praying that Ian’s phone would charge up and that he would call back really soon.  

Ian had told Mickey that he was gay.  And, holy shit, Mickey had basically come out to Ian.  He really hadn’t done that before…like, ever.  Everyone who knew he was gay—basically Mandy and his brothers—had found out because of Terry’s shit.  He’d never actually told anyone.  Even though he hadn’t said the words “I’m fuckin’ gay,” he still acknowledged it out loud.  It actually made him feel lighter in a way.  He didn’t think it would, but it did.  Now all he could do was wait for Ian to call back.

When Ian woke up, it was just after 4 pm.  Ian knew that Mickey would be off the clock already. He was supposed to work in an hour, but sure enough, he still wasn’t up to it.  He had promised his boss that he would, but he was going to have to go back on that promise.  After he’d called his boss and promised once again that he’d be in to work the next day, he fell back asleep, resolving to call Mickey at the crisis center first thing in the morning.

Chapter Text

Mickey went home after work with a heavy heart.  After Ian’s phone had died, he didn’t call back.  And that was Mickey’s last day at the crisis counseling center.  Starting tomorrow, he would be interning at a center for at-risk youth to get fieldwork hours.  Before he left, he’d told Jaclyn that if someone named Ian called, to make sure she talked to him and to make sure he was okay.  He didn’t know what else to do.  He’d considered telling his co-workers that if Ian called, to give them his cell phone number, but he knew that they would immediately clock that and know he’d crossed a boundary.  So he was stuck.  Shit.  He was so worried that Ian would think he’d just abandoned him. 

As he climbed into bed that night, he thought about Ian’s voice telling him that he would listen and be there for him—right before the phone call had cut off.  He fell asleep still thinking about Ian, his words, and how he hoped he would be alright.  Most of all, he hoped that Ian, wherever he was, wouldn’t hate him if and when he called only to find out that Mickey wasn’t there.

The next morning, Ian was able to get out of bed, shower, and eat breakfast with much less of an effort.  He knew that he needed to go to work today, especially after yesterday.  He couldn’t break his promise to his boss again.  He had been more than understanding, but Ian was sure his patience was wearing thin. He also had one class today, right before his shift at the cafe, and he knew he needed to go.

He checked his e-mail to see if he’d gotten any escort bookings, and there was nothing new so far—thank god.  He really wasn’t in the mood for that yet. 

Once he felt somewhat human again, he decided to call Mickey.  They were in the middle of a pretty intense conversation when Ian’s phone had died, completely cutting their interaction off at the knees.  Mickey had just told Ian that he was gay, and holy shit.  Ian hadn’t been expecting that, and from the way Mickey sounded, it didn’t seem like he’d come out to a lot of people before.  In that moment, Ian wanted nothing more than to be there for him, which was funny, because their roles were suddenly reversed.  It was Mickey working at the crisis center, but it was Ian who was offering to be there and listen to Mickey.  The connection between them was so strong, he felt, and they hadn’t even seen each other.  They really knew next to nothing about each other, but he just couldn’t deny their connection.

Ian dialed the number and entered Mickey’s extension right away.  The phone rang three times before someone answered.  But the voice he heard wasn’t the familiar one he was expecting—-it was a woman’s voice. Someone named Jennifer, Jackie, something, he really wasn’t even listening.  His heart immediately sank and he felt nauseous.  He asked the woman on the other line, “Um, is Mickey there?” 

“No, he doesn’t work here anymore.”

Ian’s head was suddenly filled with a buzzing sound, and he distantly heard the person on the phone asking his name before he hung up.

He felt the tears welling up in his eyes and a lump forming in his throat.  Had it been too much for Mickey, their last conversation? Had he crossed a line again? So much so that he quit? Or was he already planning on leaving? But why didn’t he tell him?

He blinked back the tears and swallowed the lump in his throat.  He wasn’t going to cry.  He wasn’t going to let this pull him back down.  Fuck Mickey.   

It was Mickey’s first day at the youth center, and it was fine.  The center’s director, Zach, seemed like an okay guy.  He also met some of the kids, and it amazed him how much of himself he saw in them.  It was like looking in a mirror, but it was his teenage self staring back at him.  He was excited to work with these kids and hopefully help them go down a different path than the one he ended up on.  There was one kid in particular that he felt he’d already made a connection with.  His name was Danny and he was fourteen years old.  He reminded Mickey so much of himself at that age that it was fucking eerie.  He hadn’t gotten a lot of information from him, but from what he did tell him, Mickey was able to easily conclude that his home life was absolute shit.  Going through what Mickey had as a kid, he knew that he would be able to talk to him and share his own experiences.

Unfortunately, he’d also learned that there was some fundraising benefit for the center coming up in a couple of weeks, that all of the interns and volunteers would have to attend; well not just attend, but they would have to help finish planning and work the event as well. Definitely not Mickey’s cup of tea, but he would do what he had to do. 

The whole time he was there, though, his mind was preoccupied. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ian.  He wondered if he’d tried to call him, and if so, was he pissed at him? He ended up texting Jaclyn to see if maybe he called, on the off chance that she might’ve been the one to answer.  She did say that someone called and asked for him, but he hung up before she could get his name. Shit. He knew it must’ve been him.  And he’d fucking let him down. 

*

At the end of his shift, Mandy came to pick Mickey up for a late lunch/early dinner.  Again, she wanted to go to the same damn cafe so she could see if her favorite redhead was working.  Maybe she would finally be able to get his number or something so she could stop stalking him. 

As they walked into the cafe, Mandy practically squealed, “Yay, he’s working today! There he is!”, as she pointed to the coffee counter, behind which stood…holy fuck, the hottest guy he’d ever seen.

Jesus, Mandy was right.  The hair, the freckles, the fuckin’ biceps that the tight sleeves of his polo shirt were hugging; he even looked hot wearing that stupid apron.  It was too bad that apparently Mandy was going to get with him, so he was obviously straight.  But it didn’t hurt to look and admire from afar.  Even if he was gay, it’s not like Mickey would’ve done anything about it anyway.

As they walked up to the counter to place their orders, Mickey absolutely could not stop staring.  Up close, he wasn’t just hot, he was fucking gorgeous.  And he was close enough now that he could see that his eyes were green.  Mickey was starting to sweat and his heart was pounding in his chest, and he didn't know why.  He glanced at the man’s name tag, and sure enough, just like Mandy had said, his name was Ian. But what were the odds—

“Can I take your order?” Wait. He knew that voice.  There was no fucking way, it couldn’t be—

“Mickey, do you know what you want?” He distantly heard Mandy’s voice through his state of shock. 

Mickey swallowed roughly, his throat suddenly feeling like a desert wasteland, and he saw the man’s—Ian’s—eyes widen upon having heard Mickey’s name.  Unlike the many Ians on campus, he was sure there couldn’t be that many Mickeys walking around.

“Um, uh, I’m not sure—“ Mickey stuttered out, before he was interrupted by none other than the man in front of him. 

“Mickey??”

Chapter Text

What. the. Fuck.   That was all Ian was able to think at the moment.  This was Mickey?  The same Mickey who had basically talked him off the ledge the other day, saved him from himself, confided in him, and then disappeared?  He knew it was him, not only because he'd heard his name.  He also recognized his voice just from that one, stuttered out half-sentence.  He would never forget that voice and would recognize it anywhere.  

He had actually noticed Mickey as soon as he’d walked into the café, not knowing at the time that it was in fact Mickey.  What he’d noticed though, was one of the sexiest guys he’d ever seen, strutting through the door—because “strutting” was really the only way to describe the way he walked with such unbelievable swagger—next to Mandy, whom he’d met and talked to a few times–just small talk stuff, but he liked her–during his work shift.  

He couldn’t even pinpoint what he found so sexy about him.  Well, maybe he could. He was quite a bit shorter than Ian, which for some reason really turned him on.  He had black hair which contrasted against his alabaster skin, and he could see how blue his eyes were even from across the room.  They were piercingly blue.  And then the pièce de résistance—when he turned to look at Mandy and say something to her, Ian subtly craned his neck to get a glimpse of his ass, which did not disappoint in the slightest.  That was probably the best ass he’d ever seen in his life.

He had just been trying to snap himself out of his stupor to throw on his customer service persona once again and take his order, when he heard Mandy say the man’s name—Mickey.  At that moment, he also noticed that Mickey was staring wide-eyed at him.  When he stumbled out a half-assed response to Mandy’s question, Ian knew that it was his Mickey, and by the way that Mickey was staring at him, Mickey had obviously pieced the same thing together about Ian.

All he could say was, “Mickey??”, the shock clearly evident in his voice.  He knew that there was something else there, too—hurt.

“Um, yeah, hi Ian,” Mickey said, looking down at his feet and blushing furiously.  

Ian really didn’t know what else to say.  He wanted to say, “Fuck you for just bailing on me like that without telling me.” He wanted to ask if he really even gave a shit about him, or if it really was just a job to him. He wanted to ask if he talked like that with everyone who called.

Instead, what he did was school his features and put the professional face back on, complete with the fake customer service smile.

“So what can I get for you?”

Mandy watched the entire exchange with a completely confused look on her face as she looked back and forth between the two of them.  She couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, but she figured she might as well order her coffee.

“Can I just get a tall latte and a turkey pesto panini?” Mandy said, attempting to act as if there wasn’t an incredible amount of weird awkwardness surrounding her.

“Sure!” Ian said, continuing to plaster on a fake smile.  “What can I get for you, Mickey?”

Mickey just looked at Ian, and if Ian didn’t know any better he’d have thought that he looked sad, or even…guilty? He couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Then Mickey said, “Um, Ian, can we go somewhere and talk?  Uh, I know you’re working but—”

He was interrupted mid-sentence by Mandy.  “Ok, what the hell is going on?  How do you two know each other?”

“None of your fucking business, Mandy,” Mickey snapped at her.  

“No, I can’t Mickey, I’m working,” Ian said coldly, trying not to show any emotion at all.  He’d already exposed enough of his emotions to Mickey over the phone, only to have them stomped on when he disappeared.

He immediately saw the hurt in Mickey’s eyes, before he nodded and looked down at the ground.  He turned to Mandy and said quietly, “Um, I’m not really hungry, I’m just gonna head home.”  With that, he turned around and walked out the door.

Ian instantly regretted his cold demeanor towards Mickey.  Maybe he should’ve let him explain.  Shit.   

Mandy continued to stand there dumbstruck, and Ian proceeded to put in her order and cash her out.  

When Mandy’s order was ready and Ian called her number, he handed her the take-out bag and coffee, but before she turned around to leave, he stopped her. “Mandy?”

Mandy turned around skeptically, and said, “Yeah?”

“Um, I know that whole thing was really weird, but it’s not really something that I can explain right now.  It’s, uh, kind of personal. But I really need to talk to your…brother?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother.”

“I thought so.  You guys look alike.”

“Fuck off, we do not,” Mandy said, wrinkling her nose.

Ian just let out a slight chuckle and said, “Um, do you think you could give me his number, so I can text him? I just want to apologize for basically brushing him off just now.”

Ian knew he could’ve taken a 10 minute break to talk to Mickey, or he could’ve at least told Mickey when he would be off work or when his lunch break was, so that they could set up a time to talk.  But instead, he gave him the cold shoulder.  He wanted to make Mickey feel the same way he’d felt when he called the crisis center and Mickey wasn’t there.  But seeing the hurt look on Mickey’s face turned out to be more than he’d bargained for.

“Yeah, give me your phone and I’ll put his number in,” Mandy said. 

Ian handed her his phone so she could enter Mickey’s contact information, and after she handed it back, she asked, “So, um, are you and my brother like…you know?  It would be really surprising, because he doesn’t get out much, or like, at all, but I was hoping to maybe get your number but if you swing the other way, then–”

Ian interrupted Mandy’s word vomit and put her out of her misery.  “Um, no, I’m not involved with your brother like that, but yes, I am gay if that’s what you’re asking.  Sorry.”

He immediately saw Mandy’s shoulders sag in disappointment, but then he saw a glimmer of something in her eye.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but it instantly seemed as if the wheels in her head were turning.  

“That’s okay.  But um, make sure you text my brother.  It’ll make him happy,” she said with a wink before she turned around and walked out of the café.

Mickey walked home after leaving Mandy at the café, struggling to fight back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He kept telling himself that he wasn’t a pussy. He pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and tapped one out before placing it between his lips and lighting up.  He’d been trying to cut down, but if there was ever a time that he needed a smoke, it was now.  He inhaled the smoke into his lungs, trying to let it calm his nerves, but it wasn’t working.  

Ian just had such coldness in his voice when he told him that he was working and couldn’t talk.  He wasn’t used to his voice sounding like that.  His voice was always so open, vulnerable, understanding.  And it was his biggest worry that Ian would be pissed at him.  Clearly, that worry had been justified.  Ian was pissed, alright.  And Mickey had no idea if he’d ever get the opportunity to explain to Ian what had happened.  

As he lay on the couch watching some mindless reality T.V. show, Mandy came in with her food and coffee in hand and approached him.

“Hey, assface, thanks for ditching me,” she said, as she kicked him in the shin.

“Ow, bitch, what was that for?”

“I just told you what it was for.  What the fuck was that about, anyway?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, alright?  I can’t.  Just leave me alone for a bit. Please.”

Mandy just stared at him as he walked into his bedroom and closed the door.  

He stripped down to his tank top and boxers before climbing into bed.  He figured he might as well turn in for the night, though he knew that sleep wouldn’t come easily.  

As he stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep, his phone buzzed with a text message.  He grabbed his phone and squinted at the bright light in the dark, seeing that he had a text from an unknown number.

Unknown [9:12 p.m.]: Hi, Mickey, it’s Ian. Mandy gave me your number. I just wanted to apologize for blowing you off today.  I’m willing to listen if you want to talk.  I was just really hurt because I called your extension this morning and they told me that you weren’t working there anymore.  But I should’ve given you the chance to explain.  Anyway, if you don’t want to talk you don’t have to respond to this message.  But I just wanted to put it out there. 

Mickey’s heart started thumping so hard that he thought it might break free from his chest.  He quickly saved Ian’s number to his contacts and tapped out a response.

Mickey [9:16 p.m.]: Hi Ian, yeah, I do wanna talk.  I’m really sorry that I wasn’t there when you called.  Are you ok?

Ian [9:17 p.m.]: Yeah, I’m ok. Can I call you?

Mickey [9:18 p.m.]: Yeah

Mickey immediately felt his phone buzz with an incoming call.  He quickly swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mickey.”  It was such a relief to hear Ian’s voice, the same voice that had shown such vulnerability and trust before, the same voice that had shown so much comfort and concern.

“Hi.  Um, so I’m really sorry about this morning. I honestly fucked up the whole thing with you right from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”, Ian asked, sounding confused and almost hurt.

“Well, I should’ve gotten your contact info on the very first call, that’s protocol. I just…got so, I don’t know…engrossed in the conversation or whatever, and I was so worried about you, that I forgot to ask.  And then I freaked the next time, and—”

“And then the last time my phone died.  Fuck.”

“Yeah.  And I never got a chance to tell you that it was my last day working there.  I should’ve told you from the get-go when I could tell that you were starting to trust me.  I shouldn’t have let you start opening up to me like you did without telling you that I only had a couple of days left at the center.  I’m sorry.” Mickey could hear his own voice shaking, and he internally cursed himself.

“Shit.  I get it, Mick.  It’s really not your fault.  Yesterday when my phone died, I fell asleep before I could call you back.  So it’s not all on you.  I’m just really glad that we ended up finding each other.  What are the odds, huh?” Ian said with a slight chuckle. 

“Yeah.”  Mickey’s stomach had instantly started fluttering when Ian called him by a nickname, and he couldn’t get the fucking butterflies under control.

“Um, I’d really like to get to know you Mickey, if that’s not too weird.  Would that be ok? I think it would be nice for us both to just have someone to talk to.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

Mickey figured he’d get the ball rolling.  “Um, so what’s your last name, anyway?”

It was then that Mickey heard the brightest laugh he’d ever heard, and it was a sound that he thought he could never tire of.  Yeah, this would be okay.

Chapter Text

Ian fell asleep with a smile on his face that night.  He and Mickey had talked on the phone for almost two hours, and after they hung up, he almost felt too keyed up to even go to sleep.  He lay there in bed just thinking about their conversation.

They had told each other their last names, and both thought the other name sounded familiar. They again marveled at the fact that their paths had never crossed on the south side.  Ian didn’t mention that some of the things he was going through as a teen would’ve precluded them from ever having the chance to meet.   

They had talked about anything and everything.  He told Mickey that he was studying nursing, and he found out that Mickey was working towards getting his degree in behavioral health.  They talked about music, movies—resulting in a heated debate about the action star merits of Van Damme vs. Seagal—television shows—Ian found out that Mickey really enjoyed cooking shows, which Ian found cute as hell—and really, whatever else came up.

They had talked a bit about school and work.  Mickey of course knew that Ian worked at the cafe, and Ian found out that Mickey had started working as an intern at the nearby youth center since ending his contract with the crisis center. His class load was minimal, as he was mostly working on earning fieldwork hours at this point.  He found out that Mickey and Mandy shared an off-campus apartment together.  Ian did not, however, disclose the fact that he worked part-time for an escort agency.  He didn’t know why, exactly.  He just thought that it might be off-putting for Mickey. It was silly, really.  It’s not like he and Mickey were dating—though Ian couldn’t deny that he was interested—and Ian was not doing anything sexual with his clients.  Also, Mickey already knew one of his deepest and darkest secrets, something that he was the most ashamed of—his bipolar disorder.    

He knew that he shouldn’t be ashamed; but he couldn’t help it.  He knew it was a part of him, but he wished it wasn’t.  Ian hadn’t really been in any kind of long-term relationship, but this was something he really never disclosed to anyone that he was dating—or casually seeing, he supposed.  The term “dating” was probably a bit of a stretch.  

But this was one of the first things that Mickey had learned about Ian, given the way in which they’d met.  And Mickey hadn’t batted an eye at it, aside from his desire to help.  Ian had to remind himself over and over again that Mickey had helped him because it was his job, nothing more.  He was desperately trying to tamp down his feelings and not get his hopes up.  He was probably reading way too much into everything.  But the fact that they’d just had an almost two-hour phone conversation, which Ian didn't think he’d ever done in his life, made it difficult to keep the hope from rising to the surface.

Ian had never felt a connection like this before; just being able to talk to someone. It felt so comfortable, so freeing.  Needless to say, Ian hadn’t ever had what could be called a “relationship.”  He’d had meaningless hook-ups–he was no stranger to Grindr and the random hook-up at the nearest gay bar—and a couple of guys that he’d seen a handful of times for…he didn’t even know if he would call them dates.  But he’d never had anyone who he felt like he could just…talk to.  Just talk, nothing else. That had never happened before.

As a teen, he never failed to attract attention from older, mostly closeted men.  He relished in the attention, as he was never getting attention at home as the quiet middle child who basically stayed out of trouble—at least as far as his family knew.  Both of his parents were fuck-ups, and he and his siblings were pretty much raised by their oldest sister, Fiona.  But he was all but invisible, especially in the shadow of his genius older brother who never seemed to have the motivation to do anything about it, his younger brother with psychopathic tendencies, his younger sister who always seemed to be going through a crisis, and the baby of the family.  He was just kind of there in the middle.  On top of everything else, his sperm donor of a father, Frank, ended up not even being his biological father, and that made him feel even more like an outsider.

Be careful what you wish for, he thought, because he sure garnered more than enough attention after his mother, Monica, killed herself and he, unbeknownst to him at the time, had his first full manic episode.  Of course, the attention didn’t come right away.  It was weeks and weeks of him basically either living on the streets or staying with various older men, usually in hotel and motel rooms, and usually a different one every night, while he worked as an underaged bartender at a gay club and exchanged sexual favors for drugs or money—sometimes at the club, sometimes walking the streets. 

When his family had finally found him, they brought him home, and a depressive episode soon followed.  They of course suspected that Ian had inherited bipolar disorder from their mother, and they ended up being right.  After a brief hospitalization and eventual diagnosis, he was sent off with a cocktail of meds, and the attention—whether Ian wanted it or not—never stopped after that.  And it usually wasn’t the good kind of attention. It was worry, it was distrust, it was the constant expectation that Ian was going to go off the rails.  This was exactly why Ian wanted to be on his own.  Never mind that Ian had ended up finishing high school—albeit a year late and with a lot of extra classes over the summer—and gotten into college; he knew that he would always be under the microscope. 

So the negative attention was something he was used to.  He wasn’t used to the genuine care and concern that Mickey had shown from their very first conversation.  Sure, it had been Mickey’s job the first few times they talked.  But there was no more job or sense of duty that would have compelled Mickey to stay on the phone with Ian for almost two hours, talking about everything and nothing all at once.  Ian could tell that he genuinely wanted to be on the phone with him.  So, when Ian finally let sleep overtake him, he was filled with hope for the first time in what felt like forever.

When Mickey woke up the next morning to his phone alarm blaring, he rubbed his eyes, feeling like he didn’t get nearly enough sleep.  This was probably because he’d been talking on the phone with Ian Gallagher for almost two hours, and after that, he just couldn’t sleep.  He just lay awake thinking of Ian, his voice, how comforting it was, how open and vulnerable he was willing to be, and now that he knew what he looked like, he couldn’t stop picturing that red hair and those fucking freckles.  Goddamnit, he had it bad for this guy already, he could tell.  And he knew that he could do fuck all about it.  

Ian didn’t know about his past.  He knew that if things went any further, he would eventually find out, and it would be a deal-breaker.  Once he found out that Mickey had fag-bashed someone so badly that he almost died, and was even locked up for it—-no matter the fact that Mickey had absolutely no choice or he himself would’ve been killed—he wouldn’t want anything to do with him.  

On top of that, Mickey had no fucking experience dating, or doing anything, really.  And with the way that Ian looked, there was no doubt that he had guys falling all over him.  What even made Mickey think that his lame, inexperienced ass would ever have a chance in hell? All they had done was talk, that was it.  Mickey was reading way too much into it.

He rubbed his hands over his face before finally getting out of bed and getting ready for the day. He had one early morning class before he had to head over to the youth center to help organize this fucking charity fundraising event or whatever. 

As he walked into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee, he heard his sister’s voice as she approached.  It was way too fucking early for her shit.  

“So, someone was up late talking on the phone last night.  Who were you talking to? Ian?”

“Jesus, none of your fuckin’ business. What the fuck, were you eavesdropping or somethin’?”

“No, I couldn’t hear what you were saying, I could just hear talking.  You were on the phone for a really long time.”

“Yeah, no shit.  I was.  And I’m fuckin’ tired now, so leave me alone.  I gotta go to class.”

“Geez, grumpy much? Asshole,” Mandy mumbled as Mickey grabbed his bag and headed out the door.

As soon as he walked out of his apartment building, he heard his phone buzzing in his pocket.  He pulled it out and looked at the screen to see that it was a text from Ian.  He instantly felt heat rise up the back of his neck, just from getting a text that he hadn’t even read yet.  Jesus, he really needed to get a hold of himself.

Ian [7:55 a.m.]: Hey Mick, just wanted to say good morning. 😀

Mickey couldn’t even help the smile that spread across his face.

Ian walked to class with a spring in his step, deciding that he would text Mickey good morning. Why not?  Fuck it. 

As soon as he sent the text to Mickey, he immediately received one in return.

Mickey [7:56 a.m.]: Morning.  It’s way too early for happy faces, stop sending me that shit.

Ian [7:57 a.m.]: Someone’s grumpy in the morning.  Is this the same guy I talked to last night, who binges shows on the Food Network and likes 80’s music?

Mickey [7:59 a.m.]: Yeah, yeah, fuck off.  Just not a morning person. Especially when someone’s freckled ass kept me up for two hours on the phone.  

Ian [8:01 a.m.]: Freckled, huh?  You really remember what I look like, don’t you?

Mickey [8:02 a.m.]: Well yeah, it’s kind of hard to miss that flaming red hair.  Hey, I’m late to my 8:00 class, gotta go but I’ll text you later. 

Ian couldn’t help the smile on his face and the butterflies that were having a field day in his stomach.  This grumpy side of Mickey wasn’t one he had seen before, but he knew he was rough around the edges, despite the sincerity and concern in his voice when he’d talked to him on the crisis line.  After all, as he’d noticed yesterday when he’d first laid eyes on him, he had “FUCK U-UP” tattooed on his knuckles.   But truthfully, Ian thought this grumpy side of Mickey was adorable.  He couldn’t help it.  And he said he’d text him later.  Ian couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face if he tried. 

Goddamnit, this goofy redhead.  Mickey couldn’t stop thinking about him.  He thought about him during class, and then throughout his entire shift at the youth center.  He tried his best to interact with the kids and help plan the charity event, he really did, but his mind was completely preoccupied.  

When his shift was over and Mandy came by the center to meet him so they could grab a late lunch and a coffee, he knew exactly where he wanted to go.  He didn’t even know if Ian was working or not, but he figured it was worth a shot.  It’s not like they could really even talk while Ian was working, but he wouldn’t mind just looking at him for a while.  God, he felt like such a creep, but he couldn’t help it. 

When Mandy asked Mickey where he wanted to go to grab lunch, she immediately smirked when she was met with shifty eyes and Mickey acting as if he was pondering her question when he obviously knew exactly where he wanted to go.  

“You’re an idiot.  Come on, let’s go see if Ian’s working,” she said with a wink.

“What the fuck was the wink for?” Mickey said defensively.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Mandy said with a smile, to which Mickey just rolled his eyes and continued to try and keep up with her ridiculously fast-paced walking. 

When they arrived at the café, Mickey’s eyes immediately darted across the café to the coffee counter, where they were met with the same sight that had struck him the day before.  God, nothing had changed.  There he was, in all his freckled glory.  The very moment that Ian looked up and noticed that Mickey was there and they locked eyes, a huge smile bloomed across Ian’s face, and god, this guy was going to be the death of him.  

As they approached the counter to place their order, it was Mandy who spoke first.  “Hey, Ian!  How did you sleep last night?  Mickey was grumpy as fuck this morning because apparently you guys were talking on the phone for hours and he couldn’t sleep.”

Mickey shot her a death glare, and he heard that same laugh that he’d heard on the phone last night, the same one that made his heart rate speed up.  

“Um, it took me awhile to fall asleep too, but when I did, I slept like a baby.  I was in a pretty good mood,” Ian said with a smile.  “Shit, there’s a line, I’d better take your order,” Ian then said as he noticed several people lining up to actually order coffee and food, which was actually the purpose of the establishment in which they were currently….flirting?  Is that what this was?

Unfortunately, they didn’t get a chance to talk much after placing their orders and getting their food, but as Mandy and Mickey sat to eat their sandwiches and drink their fancy coffees, Ian and Mickey couldn’t help but steal quick glances, complete with soft smiles, at each other the entire time.

“Ugh, could you guys stop eye-fucking each other for two seconds so I can enjoy my food?” Mandy said as Mickey stared at Ian, causing him to whip his head towards her, eyes wide as saucers.

“What the fuck? We’re not…I’m not…Jesus Christ!” Mickey stuttered out, not helping his case in the slightest.  

“Sure,” Mandy said with an eye roll. 

Shortly after Mandy and Mickey left the café, Mickey giving Ian a shy wave before heading out, Ian clocked out and headed out the door as well.  His shift was over, and he had to stop at home to shower and get ready for his escort gig tonight.

He really didn’t want to, he wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.  Like, at all.  He had gotten a last-minute booking notification this morning, and he went ahead and accepted it, because he knew that he’d missed out on several bookings over the last few days and he needed the money.  But he couldn’t be less excited about it.  All he really wanted to do was talk to Mickey for hours on the phone again.  

Thankfully, he’d had this client before, and he wasn’t one of the handsy ones.  It was Richard, an older man who just seemed really lonely and needed companionship.  He would be attending a work dinner with him it seemed, so Ian would have to get dressed to the nines. 

*

Later, as he sat with Richard and a bunch of stuffed-suit business men and their trophy wives trying his very best to look interested despite having no idea what they were talking about, Ian’s phone buzzed with a text notification.  He discreetly pulled out his phone to see that he had a text from Mickey.  He had to bite his lip to control his smile.

Mickey [10:15 p.m.]: Good night, Red. Talk tomorrow?

Ian couldn’t help but feel giddy about Mickey seemingly having a new nickname for him. 

Ian [10:16 p.m.]: Yeah, Mick, I’d like that a lot.  Good night. 🙂 

Chapter Text

Ian and Mickey spent the next week or so constantly texting each other.  They texted each other good morning, asked each other about how their classes were going, talked about random things that annoyed them throughout the day, and texted each other good night.  Mickey and Mandy had also been to the cafe twice more that week while Ian was working, allowing them to lay eyes on each other, flirt a bit, and steal glances at each other—not “eye-fucking,” as Mandy continued to call it, fuck you very much—while Mickey ate and Ian worked.  

Mickey was getting busier at the youth center with the fundraising event coming up in just a couple of days, and he was getting to know the kids more and more, especially Danny, who seemed to only open up to Mickey.  Danny had been through so much of the same shit that Mickey had gone through as a kid, that they were almost like kindred spirits.  It seemed like Danny could sense that and had allowed himself to trust Mickey, at least to some degree.  

Danny’s mother had overdosed when he was just a kid, just like Mickey’s mom had, and he was left with his abusive asshole of a father.  Again, Mickey couldn’t help but be shocked by the similarities.  His attitude was so much like Mickey’s at his age, and he was so glad to be someone that he could trust and open up to.  Mickey just wished that he’d had someone when he was Danny’s age; someone to talk to, someone who would listen—something that he didn’t have until he met Tara, his counselor in juvie.  He couldn’t help but wonder if things would’ve been different.  But that was exactly why Mickey was doing this, exactly why he wanted to be a behavioral counselor—to give these kids what he never had.

When he wasn’t working with the kids, he was helping to plan the fundraising event that would be held at the center.  To be honest, it was way out of his wheelhouse, planning some fancy schmancy charity benefit, but he was trying his best.  One thing he was good at was math, so he was helping with keeping expenses down, working with donors, and figuring out how much they should charge for tickets to the event in order to maximize donations to the center. 

It was going to be the type of event that Mickey would never have been caught dead at in the past, even though he was actually working the event and wasn’t a guest.  It would be a bunch of rich assholes with money to throw around, thinking that it made them look less like assholes if the money was going to what could be perceived as a good cause by other rich assholes.  These dickheads didn’t actually care about the kids at the center; they just wanted to look like they cared.  But oh well, at least it would still be making money for the center, so he figured he would bite the bullet and tough it out.  

When all was said and done, at the end of day, he kind of just wanted to talk to Ian.  They had been texting, but he wanted to hear his voice.  He was tired as hell when he got off work, and because he had stayed late working on the charity event, he didn’t get a chance to stop by the cafe with Mandy like he’d been doing for the last couple of afternoons.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t get Ian out of his head.  Well, he knew, he supposed, but it kind of freaked him out.  He’d never really felt anything for anyone before, so this was all new to him. And while yes, it freaked him the fuck out, he didn’t want it to stop.  He just wanted to know Ian.  He wanted to know everything about him.  And the fact that he was hot as fuck didn’t hurt.  

When he got home, he immediately texted Ian.

Mickey [8:30 p.m.]: Hey. You free to talk?

Ian [8:32 p.m.]: Yeah, of course. 

Mickey immediately dialed Ian’s number, and it rang once before Ian answered and he heard the voice that he so desperately wanted to hear.  

“Hey, Mick.”

“Hey.”

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah.  I just, um, I dunno, I guess I just wanted to talk.  Hear your voice or whatever.” Mickey felt his cheeks flush hard as he said it, just absolutely floored at what a pussy he sounded like.  

“I wanted to hear your voice too,” Ian said, and Mickey’s heart did that thing again where it was going so fast he was actually worried that he might have a heart attack.  

They talked about everything and nothing again, just happy to be talking to each other.  Mickey told Ian about the event he was planning for the youth center, Ian talked about some of his nursing coursework.  

After they had talked for about twenty minutes, there was a beat of silence before Mickey spoke again.

Mickey didn’t actually know what the fuck got into him at the very moment that he said it, but it was as if he had floated outside of his body and was watching himself when he blurted out, “Um, do you maybe want to like, uh, have dinner sometime or something?”

There was a brief silence in which Mickey was actually holding his breath and was starting to worry about going into cardiac arrest.  Either that or vomiting, he wasn’t completely sure.

Then he heard a soft, almost teasing voice. “Mickey, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Fuck you is what I’m asking you on.” Mickey said, old habits dying hard. 

“Well, I would love to go to dinner with you.  Especially if it’s a date.” Mickey could hear the smile in Ian’s voice.  

“Um, ok, yeah, that’s cool then,” Mickey stumbled over his words, knowing that he sounded like a complete idiot.  “Uh, maybe on Saturday?” The charity event was on Friday evening, and he knew that he would be really busy until that was over with.

“Yeah, Saturday sounds perfect.” Mickey was starting to get seriously worried that he might actually have to call 911.  The rate at which his heart was pounding couldn’t be normal.  

“Ok, then, Saturday it is. Um, I guess I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Ok, bye Mickey,” Ian said before they hung up.

Holy shit, he had a date.  Yep, he was definitely going to vomit.  All of a sudden the nerves hit him and he had to run to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.  He had never been on a date before.  Nothing even remotely resembling a date.  Really, he was basically a virgin, outside of the couple of girls he’d banged in high school that he’d rather forget. And Ian…well, look at him.  Jesus Christ.  He looked like a fucking model or something, he’d probably fucked a shit ton of guys.  He probably had guys lining up just wanting to touch him.  He was so far out of his depth it wasn’t even funny. What the fuck had he done?  

Ian was giddy with excitement as he sat on his bed and checked his e-mails before hopefully finishing up an assignment and then turning in for the night.  He saw that he had an escort request for Friday evening.  Fuck.  He figured he might as well get it over with and make some extra cash before his date with Mickey. 

Looking over the client information, he saw that it was the same handsy asshole from before, the one who’d called him a whore the night before he first called Mickey at the crisis center.  He knew it was probably a bad idea to accept the client request, but he figured he could hold his own.  He didn’t usually bother reporting the ones who got handsy to the agency, because he thought maybe it would cause him to get less booking requests.  If someone was violent or put his safety at risk, then yes, he definitely would report them, but usually he could handle the ones who were just douchebags.  He would grin and bear it just for the evening, and then the next day he would have a date with Mickey.  He couldn’t wait.

It was the evening of the youth center’s fundraiser, and Mickey was honestly dreading it.  He knew he was going to be way out of his comfort zone with a bunch of suits, but at least the counselors and social workers from the center and his fellow interns would be there.  He hadn’t seen Ian since the other day at the cafe, because he’d been working late hours thanks to this event.  He’d been texting with Ian throughout the last couple of days though, and he’d talked to him on the phone last night.  Tomorrow would be their date, and he was excited but nervous as fuck.  If he could just get through tonight, then he could focus on his date. 

He pulled out one of his few somewhat dressy shirts, a black button-up, and some dark wash jeans.  He thought that would be okay for the event, and if it wasn’t, then oh well.  It’s not like he even owned a suit and tie.  After getting dressed, he styled his hair the best he could, brushed his teeth, put on his black boots, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door.  

Ian wasn’t looking forward to this one bit.  The client, Walter, was a complete douchebag, and it was going to be difficult to act like the sun shone out of his ass like he was being paid to do.  Ian was not comfortable ever giving his address to clients, so they never picked him up at his apartment.  He always met them at the location of the event that they were to attend together. He had been provided with the address by the agency, and apparently it was some charity event.  Ian usually hated those.  It was always a bunch of rich dickheads acting like they cared about the cause, when they really only cared about appearances.  

As Ian put on his suit, a black jacket and tie with a deep emerald green shirt and black pants, he tried to focus on just getting through the evening, knowing that he had a date with Mickey tomorrow.  He couldn’t wait. 

When he’d entered the address of the event into his maps app, he saw that it was within easy walking distance.  Giving himself one last look in the mirror, he turned, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door. 

As Ian got closer to the address in question, he saw that it was a youth center.  It slowly dawned on him that this was the youth center where Mickey worked, and fuck, he knew Mickey would be there.  He had talked about this event during every phone conversation they’d had over the past week.  

Suddenly, his palms grew sweaty.  He saw Walter get out of his car when he spotted Ian, and as he approached him, Ian tried his best to plaster on a smile.  He had to do this, there was no way around it.  If he bailed now, he would get fired, and he needed this job.  He took a deep breath and walked into the building, as Walter possessively held his hand.

Everything looked pretty good, if Mickey said so himself.  He was chatting with his fellow interns as they admired the decor and everything having come together amazingly well.  They were surprised and quite proud that they’d pulled it off.  

He looked up as more stuck-up assholes entered the building, but his stomach immediately dropped when he saw who walked through the door.  He would’ve been able to spot that red hair anywhere.  It was Ian, and he was holding hands with some rich old dude.  What the fuck? He immediately locked eyes with Ian, and he knew that his eyes betrayed the hurt he was feeling.  Suddenly, he needed to get out of there.  He ran to the bathroom as fast as he could and dry-heaved into the toilet.  He sat on the bathroom floor trying to get his breathing under control, and cursing himself for having been such an idiot.  He knew it was too good to be true. He just knew it.  He couldn’t believe that he’d let himself hope.  

Chapter Text

Ian watched as Mickey ran into the bathroom, and he desperately wanted to follow him.  Even from across the room, he had seen the hurt look in Mickey’s eyes, and he would do anything to take that away.  Mickey obviously thought that Ian was on a date or something.  He had no idea about Ian’s second job.  Ian hadn’t told him, because he thought Mickey might judge him for it.  But what a fucking idiot he was.  Of course Mickey, who’d been the most understanding and sincere person since day one, wouldn’t judge him.  What was he thinking?  Now, he’d probably fucked up his chances completely.  

As he was trying to figure out how he was going to find Mickey and explain everything, he was reminded of why he was there when he felt Walter’s wandering hand grazing over his ass.  

“You look really fucking good tonight.  Can’t believe I’ve got the sexiest person here on my arm,” Walter whispered to Ian, his hot breath hitting Ian’s ear and making his stomach turn.  

Ian swallowed and nodded with a fake smile plastered on, which he was barely able to muster up.  

Walter dragged Ian around the room, and he was forced to smile and nod along as Walter mingled with a bunch of other self-important dickheads, talking about all of the wonderful things they had done and patting themselves on the back.  A couple of times, someone would ask Ian a question, and it was quite evident that Ian wasn’t paying any attention at all. When this happened, Walter would shoot him an angry glare to remind Ian of his job. 

When they were finished talking to the most recent group of people, Walter pulled Ian by the arm into a corner of the room, and snarled in his ear, “Get your shit together.  You’re making me look bad.  Don’t forget the reason you’re here, I’m the one paying you, you worthless whore.” He had a tight grip on Ian’s arm, and it was actually starting to hurt.

Ian could see out of the corner of his eye that Mickey had come out of the bathroom, and he was staring right at them.  

Mickey stayed in the bathroom for a good ten minutes before he figured that it was going to start looking weird pretty soon, and someone else might need to use the facilities.  He’d finally gotten his breathing under control, and he knew that he at least needed to get through this event.  He would be able to wallow in self-pity later, when he got home.  For now, he decided to pull his shit together, get out there, and do his job.  

There were a few people who approached him with genuine questions about the youth center and what their programs looked like, which he answered.  He didn’t mind talking to people who showed some genuine interest in the center and the kids that went there, but it was the fake pricks that he took issue with.  

As he made the rounds to double-check that everything was going as it should, he noticed Ian in a corner of the room with the geriatric viagroid asshole he’d come in with, and he really, really didn’t like what he was seeing.  The guy was holding Ian’s arm really tightly and saying something in his ear.  Ian looked almost fearful, and Mickey was starting to see red.  Soon enough, though, the guy let go of Ian’s arm, grabbed his hand—a little too roughly for Mickey’s liking—and continued to drag him around the room like a decorative item on display. 

Mickey’s eyes just kept following them as the evening went on, and he became more and more pissed off the longer he watched.  Ian’s smile looked so fake, it never reached his eyes.  He had seen Ian’s genuine smile, and it could light up the room.  This wasn’t it.  He could hear Ian laughing along with whatever stupid shit the people around him were laughing at, and it was not that laugh that Mickey had heard so many times over the phone, the laugh that caused his heart to beat fast, the laugh that he thought he could listen to all day.  This wasn’t it at all.  

Mickey had no idea what was going on, no clue why he was here with that fucker, but he could tell that Ian wasn’t enjoying himself, and it didn’t look like he wanted to be here with him.  When Mickey saw the piece of shit pulling Ian by the arm into the hallway that led to the back offices, every red flag was raised and Mickey promptly followed them.

Ian had been trying to keep it together as best he could.  He thought he was doing a decent job of smiling when everyone smiled, laughing when everyone laughed, and following wherever Walter wanted him to go.  As they turned away from the latest group of people that they were mingling with, Walter suddenly whispered in Ian’s ear, “You look so fucking hot right now, what do you say we get out of here and go back to my place?”

Ian felt nauseous, but he tried to remain professional. “Walter, that’s not part of our arrangement.”

“Come here, I want to show you something,” Walter said, as he roughly pulled Ian’s arm and dragged him to a dimly lit hallway.  

Before he knew it, he was being pushed against a wall.  Walter started to whisper in Ian’s ear again, or so he thought, but he just felt Walter’s tongue jut out and trace the shell of his ear.  He then felt Walter’s hand touch his torso and start moving lower and lower. Ian swallowed roughly and pushed him away. 

Walter’s face suddenly turned angry. “You think you’re too good? Really? You’re nothing but a two-bit whore. I’m at least going to get my money’s worth.” As he lunged forward towards Ian, no doubt going in for a sloppy kiss, Ian suddenly saw two hands with tattooed knuckles grab Walter by the shoulders and roughly turn him around.  Mickey.

He watched on in shock as Mickey said, “What the fuck did you just call him?”, rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip menacingly.

Walter stumbled over his words as he tried to stammer out a response, “Uh, um, nothing, I—”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” Mickey said as he grabbed the asshole by his suit jacket lapels and slammed him against the wall. “Touch him again and I promise you, it’ll be the last fuckin’ thing you do.  Got it?”

Walter just nodded and ran out of the hallway.  Ian had no idea if Walter was leaving the event completely or if he was going to continue to chat it up with a bunch of stuck-up jackasses as if nothing had happened.  But he truly didn’t give a shit.  He needed to get out of there.

Before he could do or say anything though, he felt a hand gently touch his arm. Suddenly, Ian grabbed Mickey and hugged him tightly.  He felt Mickey’s arms come around and rub his back soothingly. 

“Are you okay?” Mickey asked. It was the same voice that Ian had first heard on the phone when he called the crisis line, that gentle, genuine tone.  

“Um, yeah.  I–I think so,” Ian answered as he pulled back from the hug. He really wasn’t sure.  He was still pretty shaken.

“Hey,” Mickey said.  “I’m going to tell Zach that something came up and I have to leave, ok? Let me walk you home.” Ian nodded. He assumed that Zach was the youth center’s director, and he really hoped that this didn’t put Mickey’s internship in jeopardy.  

Mickey returned before Ian’s thoughts could start spiraling, and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Mickey gently touched Ian’s arm, guiding him through the crowd.  He vaguely registered that Walter was indeed still there and was glaring at him angrily, as he followed Mickey out the door.

They walked back to Ian’s apartment in silence, with Mickey letting Ian lead the way, because of course Mickey didn’t know where he lived.  As they arrived at Ian’s apartment building, Mickey said, “This where you live?”

“Um, yeah.”

Mickey just shook his head and chuckled slightly. “I live right across the fuckin’ street.”

“Really?” Ian said. It was the first time he’d genuinely smiled all night.

“Yeah,” Mickey said, awkwardly shuffling his weight from his left foot to his right.

“Um, do you want to come up? So we can talk? I, um, want to explain,” Ian said tentatively.

“You don’t have to explain,” Mickey quickly said.

“I want to though. And I also really don’t feel like being alone right now.” 

“Ok,” Mickey said.

He followed Ian into his apartment building and into the elevator.  When they reached Ian’s floor, Mickey followed Ian out of the elevator and to the door.  He could see Ian’s hands trembling as he tried to get his key into the lock. After a few failed attempts, Ian finally unlocked and opened the door. 

When they walked into the apartment, Mickey looked around to see that it was a small studio with the bed right there in the living room.  Ian walked over to his bed and started taking off his clothes.  

Mickey swallowed hard as he saw that Ian was now down to just his boxers and an undershirt. 

Ian noticed that Mickey looked slightly uncomfortable and said, “Sorry, is this okay? I just want to lie down, and I want to get out of this fucking suit. I hate it.”

“Um, yeah, it’s fine,” Mickey said as he awkwardly sat at the edge of the bed.

Ian sat down next to Mickey and took his hand in his. “Thank you for, um, doing that tonight.”

Mickey just nodded, looking down at their hands as Ian intertwined their fingers.

“So I should’ve just told you from the beginning, um, I work part time for an escort agency. These guys pay me to be their arm candy for a night, and that’s all it’s supposed to be.  Sex is never part of the deal, at least not for me.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I guess I just didn’t want you to think any differently about me.”

Mickey’s face softened as he turned and looked at Ian. “When have I ever judged you? I would never do that.  I’m not in a position to judge anything.  You don’t even know—” Mickey seemed to stop himself from saying too much, like maybe there was something about himself that he wasn’t yet ready to reveal.  Ian wasn’t going to dwell on that right now, though. Mickey continued, “Just, don’t ever think that anything you tell me would make me think any less of you, ok?”

Ian just nodded.  Mickey was looking at him with such sincerity that he just couldn’t stop himself.  He leaned forward and gently touched his lips to Mickey’s, letting them linger there for a few seconds before pulling away.  There was no opening of mouths, no tongue involved, just a soft press of lips together.

As Ian pulled away, he could see the flush on Mickey’s cheeks and a small smile on his lips.  Before Mickey could say anything, Ian said, “Would you stay with me tonight?  Just…I don’t really want to be by myself.”

Mickey just nodded and said, “Yeah.”

Mickey stripped down to his boxers and tank top and climbed into the bed next to Ian.  They both lay on their backs with their fingers interlaced, before Ian scooted closer to Mickey and wrapped his arm around his waist with his head on Mickey’s chest.  Ian could hear and feel Mickey’s heart thumping like crazy in his chest, and Ian was sure that his was doing the exact same thing.  Mickey ran his fingers up and down Ian’s arm, and soon, he let the soothing touch lull him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Mickey slowly blinked awake, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings and feeling warmth pressed against his back.  He glanced down to see a freckled arm draped across his waist and felt soft breathing against the back of his neck.  Mickey couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face, even though he was pretty fucking freaked out.  He’d just spent the night with Ian Gallagher.  Obviously they hadn’t done anything, but still.  

His mind drifted back to the night before.  Holy shit, Ian had kissed him.  He remembered how soft his lips felt and how good he smelled.  Fuck, he’d already woken up with a semi and this was definitely making it worse.  He needed to get it under control before Ian woke up.  

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  It wasn’t a passionate, open-mouthed kiss; it was gentle and…sweet?  Mickey had never been kissed like that before.  In fact, he hadn’t ever been kissed at all.  The couple of girls that he’d banged in high school had definitely tried, but he’d quickly shut that down.  And of course beyond that, it was just a few blowjobs.  No kissing.  He never let himself get involved with anyone like that.  

But with Ian, it was…different.  They shared that brief kiss and then Ian had laid his head on his chest and cuddled up against him as they fell asleep.  He wanted nothing more than to be that comfort for Ian after what he’d just gone through at the charity event, and after he’d opened up and been so vulnerable with Mickey. 

Truthfully, he wanted to find that fucking dickhead from last night and finish what he started.  There was no way that fucking asshole would get away with what he did, not if Mickey had anything to say about it. 

Just as his mind started to spiral down that path, he felt Ian stir behind him.  He moved slightly and…fuck, he felt Ian’s morning wood against his ass.  Ian seemed to notice too, and he quickly jumped back from Mickey like he’d been burned.

“Uh, sorry,” Ian said, looking embarrassed.

“‘s okay,” Mickey simply said as he turned around to face Ian. “You, uh, feeling okay today?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just thinking about what to do.  I don’t even know if I’m going to get paid for last night now.”

“What the fuck? Why wouldn’t you? That piece of shit is the one who tried to…to…” Mickey couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Can’t you like report him to the agency or whatever?”

“Yeah.  I’ve had him as a client before, and he’s always been handsy and called me a whore when I didn’t do what he wanted. But I didn’t report him, I should’ve.”  Ian was now sitting up in the bed, playing with a loose thread on the duvet cover.

“I’ll help you if you want, okay? If you need me to help you with whatever, I’ll do it,” Mickey said, sitting up.

“Thanks.  But it’s just a form to fill out online with the agency.  And I’m definitely not going to take him as a client ever again. Actually I think the agency might revoke his membership. At least I hope they do.”

Mickey just inhaled and then exhaled a sigh.  He nodded, knowing that there was really nothing else he could say.  He didn’t even want Ian escorting anymore, but he had absolutely no say in the matter, no right to have an opinion at all.  It was Ian’s life, and he was free to make money however he wanted. And they weren’t together; they hadn’t even been on one date.  That’s when Mickey remembered that they were supposed to go on a date tonight.  He figured Ian wouldn’t be up to it, so it was fine.  He didn’t want to push it. 

As Mickey just sat there silently, thoughts running through his head on how to tell Ian that it was okay, they didn’t have to go on their date tonight, Ian broke the silence.

“So, um, I’d better get up and get ready for the day.  I have a date tonight, so I need to make sure that I’m nice and refreshed,” Ian said with that genuine smile that made Mickey’s heart race. 

Mickey just looked at Ian wide-eyed and said, “Are you sure? Um, you don’t have to if—“

Ian cut him off.  “Are you kidding? Of course I’m sure.  In fact, I’m even more sure now than I was before,” he said shyly.

Mickey just smiled and nodded.  “Okay,” he simply said.

After a beat of comfortable silence, Ian said, “So, uh, do you want breakfast? I’m starving.  I can make us some pancakes?”

“Fuck yeah, I love pancakes,” Mickey said, causing a Ian to laugh that gorgeous laugh that Mickey would never tire of.

“Ok.  Feel free to use the shower if you need to, the towels are in the linen closet right next to the bathroom, and I can grab some clothes for you.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Ian gathered up some clothes and placed them neatly folded on the bathroom vanity.  He noticed Ian grab a pill organizer from the medicine cabinet, and although Ian tried to be discrete about it, there was really nothing to hide.  Mickey knew about Ian’s bipolar disorder—it was in fact one of the first things he’d learned about him—and he assumed that those were his meds.  Mickey wanted to tell Ian that he didn’t care, that he didn’t need to try to hide his meds, it didn’t matter to him at all.  But he figured it was best to just not say anything. 

As soon as Ian was out of the bathroom and Mickey was getting ready to get into the shower, he pulled out his phone just to check it.  He shouldn’t have been surprised to have had five missed calls and five texts from Mandy.  

Mandy [11:03 p.m.]: Hey, you still at the event? 

Mandy [12:30 a.m.]: K, where the fuck are you?

Mandy [12:55 a.m.]: Hey, fuckhead, where are you and why won’t you answer?

Mandy [1:16 a.m.]: Alright, dickhead, you’d better actually be dead because now I’m pissed

Mandy [1:48 a.m.]: You’d better be getting some good dick or something, that’s the only excuse I’ll accept.

Shit. Of course Mandy would worry.  Mickey never went out, never had hook-ups with guys, never stayed out all night.   He quickly sent her a text to let her know he was okay.

Mickey [9:07 a.m.]: Hey.  Sorry I didn’t answer.  I’m fine, I’ll explain everything later.

Mandy [9:10 a.m.]: Please tell me you were with Ian.

Mickey just sent her the middle finger emoji and got into the shower.

As he let the hot water wash over him, he felt any tension in his body dissipate.  He squeezed some body wash into his hand, and shit, it smelled like Ian.  He thought of Ian, and he thought of Ian’s hard cock rubbing against his ass this morning when he woke up.  Fuck, he felt big.  He wanted to see it, wanted to touch it so badly.  Mickey washed his body, letting his hands go lower and lower until he had a hand wrapped around his own dick, which had grown hard as soon as Mickey had started envisioning Ian’s.

He started stroking slowly, very aware in the back of his mind that he was in Ian’s shower and Ian was right there.  The apartment was tiny and Ian was basically right outside the door, in the kitchen making pancakes. But as he continued to stroke with even more vigor, he didn’t think that there was any way he could stop.  He bit his lip hard to suppress any moans threatening to spill out, but the squelching sound of his hand moving up and down was unmistakable.  He just hoped that the sound of the water hitting the shower tiles was enough to mask it.

As he moved his hand up and down along his shaft, he reached around with his other hand and brought a finger to his entrance, slowly pressing it inside.  He moved his finger in and out in time with the strokes of his other hand, and then added a second finger.  He thought about Ian’s cock being inside him instead of his fingers and when he brushed against his prostate, it was all over.  He came explosively all over the shower wall, and he had to brace himself against the walls to keep his legs from giving out.  He had bitten his lip so hard to keep himself from making any noise, that now he could taste a bit of blood.  

He finished rinsing off before turning off the shower, toweling himself off, and pulling on Ian’s clothes.  It was a t-shirt and sweatpants, which were way too long, but it would have to do for now.  Something about wearing Ian’s clothes was both comforting him and turning him on at the same time. 

He walked into the kitchen to find Ian plating up pancakes and looking at Mickey with a smile.  He handed him a plate of pancakes, complete with butter and syrup.  “How do you like your coffee?” Ian asked him. “I know you order those fancy lattes when you come to the café, but I only have regular old coffee.”

Mickey smiled and said, “Just black coffee is fine.  Thanks.”

After Ian had poured Mickey a cup of coffee, they sat at the table and ate while stealing shy glances at each other.  When they were finished, Mickey said, “Uh, I’d better get back home, Mandy was freaking out wondering where I was last night.  I had a bunch of missed calls and texts from her.”

“Oh, sorry about that.  I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

Mickey reached across the table and grabbed Ian’s hand. “No, I wanted to.  I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to.  I want to…um, to be there for you.”

“You were there for me,” Ian said as he smiled fondly at Mickey. “So what’s the plan tonight?  What time are you picking me up? Where are we going?”

“So many questions, Red,” Mickey teased.  “I’ll pick you up at 5.  You gonna, um, file the complaint with your agency, about that fucking piece of shit asshole?”

“Yeah, Mick.  I’ll go ahead and do the online report right now.”

“Ok,” Mickey said as he stood up from the table.  He pulled on his boots and realized that he needed to grab his clothes from last night.  As he bent to pick them up from the floor, Ian stopped him.

“It’s okay, you can leave them. I’ll wash them for you.”

Mickey thought that was maybe a little too domestic, but who was he to argue? “Ok then. See you at 5.  Bye, Ian.”

As Mickey stood by the door ready to head out, Ian pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Mickey.  For last night, for everything.”

Mickey just nodded, swallowing roughly.  Ian really didn’t need to thank him.  It was just natural at this point to want to be there for Ian in any way he could.  He couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow Ian Gallagher had dug a tunnel through his chest straight into his heart and made himself nice and comfortable, right from that very first phone call.

As Mickey made his way out the door, he thought about Ian and continued to think about him as he walked across the street to his apartment building.  He had a date with Ian…and now he was starting to freak the fuck out.    

Chapter Text

Ian’s mind was still reeling from…everything.  Last night, this morning, everything.  From unexpectedly seeing Mickey last night, then Walter putting his hands on him, Mickey saving him and walking him home, comforting him, and staying the night with him.  If he didn’t already think so, which he did, last night would’ve solidified it for him—Mickey was incredible.  He couldn’t wait for their date.  But, he was still feeling kind of fucked up from what Walter had done, and even more so, what he had said.

Flashes of memories had come crashing back, hearing the word “whore,” feeling Walter’s hot breath, his roaming hands.  It all made him think of seedy motel rooms, old men placing pills on his tongue, hearing the word “whore” while he was on his knees with hands pulling at his hair, and a lot of blurred images that he couldn’t quite see clearly because he had been manic and completely drugged out for most of it.  

He had been in a state of shock for most of the night after that, and Mickey had been so amazing, letting him cuddle with him, letting the steady sound of his heartbeat and the soft strokes of his fingers against his arm lull him to sleep.  

And now Ian was questioning if he even wanted to continue working for the escort agency.  Maybe he didn’t want to do it anymore.  It was great money, but was it worth it?  Most of the guys were harmless, but was it worth it for even one Walter?  He knew that the first thing he needed to do was report Walter to the agency so they would hopefully terminate his membership.  He didn’t want any other escorts to have to deal with his shit.  

After filling out the online incident report and submitting it, he decided he would catch up on a bit of schoolwork before showering and getting dressed.  While he was in the shower, his mind drifted back to earlier.  He was pretty sure he’d heard Mickey jerking off in the shower, but he couldn’t be positive.  But goddamnit, the thought of that turned him on so much.  So much so that he jerked a quick one off in the shower, thinking of Mickey getting himself off in that very same shower.

He had no idea what Mickey had planned for their date, so he didn’t know what he would wear, but he had a few hours to decide.  Maybe he would text Mickey to see if he could get any information from him.

Ian [2:05 p.m.]: Hey, Mickey.  Just wondering where we’re going tonight?  So I can figure out what to wear. 😉

Mickey [2:07 p.m.]: You ask a lot of questions, you know that Red?  Just gonna go to Little Italy and grab a bite to eat if that’s ok?

Ian [2:09 p.m.]: Yeah, that sounds great 🙂

Ian could tell just from the text message that Mickey seemed nervous.  He didn’t blame him, he was nervous too.  It had been a while since he’d been on an actual date.  Actually, now that he thought about it, he really hadn’t ever been on a date.  Certainly not with anyone that he actually cared about.  And what a thought that was.  He did care about Mickey.  He cared about him a lot.  They hadn’t even spent that much time together in person, but he already felt so much for him.  He had since the first time they talked on the phone.  

Mickey was definitely having a heart attack.  He was sure of it.  What else would explain the way his heart was pounding out of his chest?  He was freaking out.  He was supposed to pick Ian up in 45 minutes and it was all starting to hit him.  

When he’d arrived back home earlier, he’d gotten the third degree from Mandy, which was no surprise.  She was of course right in her assumption, he had in fact been with Ian, but he had to quickly clarify that it wasn’t what she was thinking—or hoping.  He didn’t want to tell her the details of what had happened, as it wasn’t his place to share that information, but he did tell her that he was having a rough night and he stayed with him to keep him company.  She of course knew they had a date tonight; he had made the mistake of telling her about it a couple of days ago.  He hadn’t heard the end of it since.  

She was positively giddy about Mickey finally going out on a date, and her excitement only made him more anxious.  He’d made sure to take his anxiety medication as soon as he got home from Ian’s apartment that morning, so that he didn’t miss a dose.  Right now, though, he was feeling more anxiety than ever. 

Now, as he attempted to pick out something to wear for his date, the realization was hitting him.  He would be out on a date with another man, in a public place.  Would it be obvious that they were on a date?  Would people be looking at them?  He didn’t know if he was ready for that.  He still lived in fear of Terry every day, even though he was in prison.  He knew it wasn’t rational, but it was still there.  In the back of his mind at all times, was that shame that Terry had instilled in him.  He couldn’t just be out.  He couldn’t embrace his sexuality, as much as he wanted to. He just couldn’t.  And he hoped Ian would be okay with that.  Shit, maybe he jumped the gun with Ian. He probably shouldn’t have even asked him out. 

As his thoughts continued to spiral, he tried to take some calming breaths.  It’s not like he could cancel on Ian. He was doing this.  And fuck, he really liked him.  A lot.  He’d been thinking about the feel of his lips against his all day, and how it felt to hold his hand.  He wanted this.  He was going to try. 

He pulled on a deep blue denim button-up that Mandy had told him brought out his eyes— gay —with slim-fitting black jeans that he knew hugged his ass pretty nicely.  Who even was he right now?  

At about 15 minutes till 5:00, he decided he looked as good as he was going to get.  He looked at himself once more in the mirror, taking a deep breath and trying to give himself a little pep talk.  “You can do this, you can do this,” he said to himself, before turning and heading out the door.

When he arrived at Ian’s apartment door, he was about four minutes early.  That led to another spiral, in which he debated whether or not he should just go ahead and knock, or wait until it was 5:00 on the dot.  By the time he finished going through an entire mental back and forth about it, though, it was two minutes till 5:00. Fuck it, he thought, and knocked.

When Ian answered the door, his breath was practically knocked out of him.  Ian looked fucking amazing.  He had on a maroon, short-sleeved button-up shirt with tiny, white polka dots, that was open over a tight-fitting, white v-neck t-shirt.  Mickey could make out the shape of his pecs through the t-shirt, and he really needed to calm the fuck down.  Like, immediately.

“Hi,” Ian said with a wide smile.

“Hi,” Mickey said, wiping his sweaty palms onto the front of his pants. “Um, you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Ian said as they headed out the door.

Mickey looked cute as fuck.  And damn sexy, too.  Ian couldn’t stop staring as they made the 20-ish minute walk to Little Italy.  He had looked so nervous when he was standing at Ian’s apartment door, and Ian felt the same way.  He might’ve been slightly better at hiding it, but he was in the same boat.  He had to say, though, Mickey’s obvious nervousness was really adorable. 

Ian really wanted to hold Mickey’s hand.  Was it too soon?  It was only their first date, and it really hadn’t even started yet.  But last night, they had slept cuddled up against each other all night.  They had held hands as they lay in bed together.  Ian had kissed him.  So he thought that it was probably okay to hold his hand. 

He reached for Mickey’s hand so he could interlace their fingers, but as soon as Mickey felt that first bit of contact, he quickly pulled his hand away.  Ian couldn’t help but feel hurt, but as he looked at Mickey, the look of guilt on his face was obvious.

“Sorry,” Mickey said, “sorry.  It’s just, um…I don’t know…”

Mickey didn’t have to explain.  Ian knew a bit about his past—not much, hardly anything, really—but in their third phone conversation, that fateful day that Ian’s fucking phone had died mid-conversation, Mickey had alluded to having anxiety because of his past, specifically his father.  He’d also told him that he “didn’t have it so easy in that department” after Ian had mentioned being gay.  So he assumed that Mickey wasn’t able to be as free with his sexuality as Ian was.  He was sure that there was a lot to unpack there.  But Ian really liked Mickey.  He would give him time, he wouldn’t push.  

“It’s okay, Mickey. Really,” Ian said with a reassuring smile. 

Mickey just nodded and put his hands into his pockets as they continued to walk.  When they arrived at a little Italian restaurant, one that Mickey had assured him had “the best lasagna in the entire fucking world,” they took a seat in a booth towards the back.

Their conversation came easily.  It always had.  Hell, they had talked on the phone for hours, so they were never at a loss for things to talk about.  They were just so comfortable talking to each other.  It was something that Ian had never experienced before.  Ian talked about why he wanted to become a nurse, how when he was briefly hospitalized he had seen how much the nurses had done.  He wanted to be that comfort for patients, he wanted to help.  He didn’t know if he wanted to become a psychiatric mental health nurse and work in a psychiatric setting, but he knew that he wanted to be a nurse.  He figured he had a bit of time to decide if he wanted to specialize in anything specific.  

It was actually kind of freeing to be able to mention his hospitalization to Mickey and not have him even bat an eye.  There was really nothing to hide from Mickey at this point, given the circumstances of how they met.  He’d pretty much met Ian when he was at his lowest, and though it was unconventional to say the least, it was refreshing for Ian to not have to explain anything.  It was just there.  Mickey knew about it, and it was just another thing about him.  Not a deal-breaker.  This was completely new territory.

Mickey listened attentively, and he talked about working at the youth center and about some of the kids that he had gotten to know, some of whom reminded Mickey of himself.  Ian smiled at that.  Who better to help these kids than someone who’d gone through the same things?  Ian of course didn’t know the details of Mickey’s upbringing, but he knew he would share it with him when he was ready.  He just wanted to know everything about him.  

It felt just like when they were talking on the phone, except that now, they were able to steal shy glances at each other.  It was as if they just couldn’t stop looking at each other.  In between those glances though, Ian would every now and then notice Mickey looking around, as if his eyes were scanning his surroundings.  He looked like he was making sure no one was watching them, almost like an instinct he’d developed in order to protect himself.  It made Ian’s heart break for Mickey and what he must have gone through, to have to constantly be on alert and always aware of his surroundings.  

When they had finished eating, even sharing a huge slice of tiramisu for dessert—during which Ian couldn’t stop staring at Mickey wrapping his lips around his fork—they walked home with smiles on their faces.   As they came closer to Ian’s apartment building, he felt a brush of Mickey’s pinky against his hand.  Ian glanced over at Mickey to see him looking down and blushing.  Ian knew.  He entwined his fingers with Mickey’s and initially felt the tension in Mickey’s hand.  Ian squeezed his hand reassuringly and felt the tension dissipate.  Mickey just let out a breathy, nervous laugh as he continued to look down at his feet while they walked.  

Once they were outside Ian’s apartment door, it was that awkward moment at the end of every first date—not as if Ian had ever experienced it, but that’s what people always say, right?  But it wasn’t awkward at all.  It was Mickey.  Ian placed his hand on Mickey’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb.  Mickey closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath, leaning into the touch.

“Um, I had a really nice time tonight,” Ian said.  That’s what people say after first dates, right? 

Mickey just nodded, clearly not able to come up with any words.  His eyes were still closed.  Ian looked at those plump lips, slightly open, taking in and letting out small puffs of air as he tried to get his breathing under control.  He leaned in, keeping his hand on Mickey’s cheek and placing his other hand on his waist, and placed a soft kiss to his lips.  He let his lips linger there for a few seconds, to gauge Mickey’s reaction.  

Mickey seemed to melt as Ian could feel the tension in his body being released.  When Ian pulled away, Mickey opened his eyes, which had been closed the entire time, and he saw them dart from Ian’s eyes to his lips.  Suddenly, he felt Mickey’s hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward into another kiss.  Mickey pressed his lips to Ian’s, this time almost desperately.  He opened them slightly and just kept kissing him, and it was a little bit clumsy, but so fucking hot.  Ian nipped at Mickey’s bottom lip and teased at it with his tongue, slipping in inside Mickey’s mouth just a bit.  Ian absently wondered if this was Mickey’s first kiss.  He knew that he’d been closeted for most of his life, given what he’d said about his father, and he wondered how much experience he had.  Ian didn’t care.  He would teach him fucking everything.

After Mickey pulled away, Ian saw that his cheeks were flushed the most beautiful shade of red, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of this man. 

“So, uh, I’ll, uh, text you tomorrow or whatever,” Mickey said, hands placed in front of his crotch and shuffling awkwardly.  Ian had the same situation happening in his pants right now, so he knew what was going on. 

“Yeah. Can’t wait.  Bye, Mickey,” he said with a little wave as he walked into his apartment. 

Once inside, he leaned against the door and took several deep breaths.  Fuck, he was in deep already.  And he was definitely going to have to jerk off right now, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep.  

As Mickey walked home, he replayed the last couple of minutes over and over in his mind.  Holy shit.  He had kissed Ian…again. And this time, it was like, a real kiss.  His first actual kiss. He hoped that Ian couldn’t tell, but he’d tried to follow his lead and he hoped he did okay.  Now he needed to get home quickly to take care of the situation in his pants.  He would obviously be thinking of Ian the whole time.  What else would he think about?

Chapter Text

The next morning, Mickey woke up with a smile on his face. It was kind of ridiculous, actually.  He was just smiling like a dumbass, and no one was around.  But his mind was occupied with thoughts of Ian, and how could he not smile?  

It was Sunday, so he pretty much had a free day. He mentally ran through the list of things he needed to do, like laundry, grocery shopping, catching up on some schoolwork.  But lying in bed thinking about Ian just seemed so much more appealing right now.  He reached for his phone and picked it up to see that he had a text message from Ian already waiting for him.

Ian [8:33 a.m.]: Good morning Mickey. 🙂

It was already 10 a.m. by the time Mickey even saw the message. Crazy ass ginger, already up at 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday.

Mickey [10:01 a.m.]: Mornin, Red.

Ian [10:03 a.m.]: I just wanted to say thank you again for last night. I had a really great time. 

Mickey [10:05 a.m.]: Yeah, me too

Mickey chewed on his bottom lip trying to figure out what to say next. Should he ask him out again?  He’d never been in this situation before, so he had no idea how things like this worked. Before he really had the chance to get further into his internal debate, Ian texted again.

Ian [10:10 a.m.]: So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over to my place tonight?  I can cook you dinner and we can watch a movie or something?  Only if you want to.

Mickey could sense the nervousness just from Ian’s text message.  Was it even possible that Ian was just as nervous as he was?  How could that be? But there was no way he was going to say no to Ian’s offer.  

Mickey [10:12 a.m.]: Yeah, sure that sounds good.  What time?

Ian [10:13 a.m.]: How about if you come over around 4:30?

Mickey [10:14 a.m.]: Alright, I’ll be there.

Ian [10:15 a.m.]: Can’t wait. 

And Mickey couldn’t wait either. 

Ian had so much to do.  Shit.   He was making dinner for Mickey, so he needed to go grocery shopping.  He made a pretty good pasta primavera, so he would stick to what he was good at.  He was pretty sure Mickey would like it.  He also didn’t have anything to wear, so he needed to do laundry.  And of course, he needed to clean his apartment and put some clean sheets on his bed.  It wasn’t as if he was necessarily expecting anything to happen on said sheets, but best to be prepared, right?

He was trying to figure out why he was so nervous.  At this point, he had spent several hours talking to Mickey.  There was no shyness left, and their conversation flowed easily.  It was as if they’d known each other for years.  Ian honestly couldn’t explain the connection they had.  It was just there.  So where was the nervousness coming from?  He figured it was from the fact that he really, really fucking liked Mickey.  He liked him a lot.  He couldn’t even remember a time when he’d felt this way about anyone.  He actually didn’t think he’d ever felt like this about anyone before.  This was new territory for Ian.  It wasn’t about sex.  Not at all.  In fact, he would be perfectly fine if nothing sexual even happened tonight.  He would be happy just hanging out and talking with Mickey.  He definitely wouldn’t mind a little make-out session, but it just wasn’t about sex. It was so much more than that. 

As Ian set about getting his sheets changed and washed and gathering up his dirty laundry, he heard his phone buzz.  Instantly, his hopes shot up in anticipation of it being a text from Mickey.  But it kept buzzing.  It was an incoming call. Ian picked it up and glanced at the screen, to see that it was Lip calling.  With a sigh, he swiped to answer the call.

“Hey, Lip, what’s up?”

“Hey.  Just wanted to say hi and see how you’re doing.  How’s everything going?  Everything good with school?”

Ian couldn’t help his eye-roll, even though he couldn’t blame him after the state Lip had last seen him in.  And he needed to remind himself that his family cared about him, and he was lucky that he even had anyone to check on him, even though it was suffocating at times.

“I’m good. School’s fine. I, um, have a date tonight actually.”

“A date?  Since when do you go on dates?” Lip teased.

That one stung.  It was true, but it wasn’t as if Ian didn’t want a real relationship or someone that he actually cared about.  He didn’t want a bunch of hook-ups and one-night stands.  Just because that’s what he’d had in the past, that wasn’t what he wanted.  It wasn’t as if it had been his choice to be used and tossed away like garbage by older men.

“Whatever, Lip.  Maybe I want to go on dates now.  I really like this guy.  Can you maybe for once be happy for me?”

“Sorry, man.  I am happy for you. It’s nice to see you excited about something.  I didn’t mean to be an asshole.  Hey, call me tomorrow, ok?  Let’s figure out a time for you to stop by for dinner or something.  Fred really wants to see you.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.  I miss Freddie too.  Tell him I love him, ok?”

“Will do. Have a good time tonight, man.  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Well, that basically leaves absolutely nothing, doesn’t it?” Ian teased.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” Lip said with a laugh,

“I gotta go Lip, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok?”

“Yeah, bye Ian. Talk soon.”

With that, Ian hung up and vowed to call Lip again soon.  He really did miss his nephew.  Right now, though, he was pretty focused on Mickey and making this date perfect.

Mickey had spent the entire day basically coming up with ways to keep himself busy.  He needed constant distraction or else he would start spiraling. He couldn’t think about the fact that this date would be at Ian’s apartment, and the implications that came with that.  Every time he thought about it, his mind drifted to what that meant.  What would be expected?  They weren’t going to be at a public place, they would be at Ian’s apartment, just the two of them.  In private.  And this was when Mickey would start to freak out.  Would Ian expect something to happen?  Would he expect sex?  He would want that, and then he would find out how pathetic and inexperienced Mickey truly was.  And it wasn’t as if Mickey didn’t want to do…everything with Ian. He wanted it all.  He wanted to have sex with Ian, more than anything.  But Ian would know that he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, and how embarrassing was that?

So Mickey had kept himself busy with chores, errands and school work all day, as well as the reminder to himself that he’d been to Ian’s apartment before; in fact, he’d spent the night.  It was fine.  There was nothing to worry about.  

Now, he wondered what he should wear.  They were hanging out at Ian’s apartment, so he didn’t think there was a need to dress up.  He pulled out a Metallica t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and some jeans, and figured that would be a good look.  

When 4:25 rolled around, Mickey headed across the street to Ian’s apartment building. He took calming breaths as he rode the elevator up to Ian’s floor.  When he got to Ian’s door, he knocked once before the door swiftly opened and he saw Ian standing there with his signature smile on his face.

And fuck, did this guy just take his breath away every time he saw him.  He was dressed more casually this time, wearing just a grey tank top—that showed off his perfect arms—and black sweatpants that hugged his ass in all the right places.  Of course, if he could make that damn apron he wore at the café look good, he was sure Ian could wear a potato sack and would still look gorgeous. Mickey was broken out of his reverie—and his obvious ogling at Ian’s muscular frame—by Ian inviting him inside.

Ian had made pasta primavera which was actually really fucking good, and he couldn’t get enough of Ian’s blush when he told him so.  They tried to settle the debate about the supremacy of Van Damme vs. Seagal by watching Under Siege and then Double Impact, but Mickey truly wasn’t paying attention to the movies.  They were on the couch and had kept moving incrementally closer to each other.  By the time the second movie started playing, Ian had his arm around Mickey, and Mickey’s leg was up against Ian’s to the point where it was almost draped over his. 

Suddenly, Mickey felt Ian turn his head and kiss his temple.  It was just a gentle brush of Ian’s lips against the side of his head, but it flipped a switch in Mickey.  Mickey turned his head towards Ian, put his hand on the back of his head, and pulled him into a desperate kiss.  Mickey hoped that his enthusiasm would make up for any lack of skill in the kissing department.  Judging by the moan that Ian let out, he figured he was doing okay.

As he opened his mouth for Ian, he felt Ian’s tongue pressing against his slightly open mouth trying to gain entrance.  He opened more, and felt Ian’s tongue enter and touch his own.  This time, it was Mickey who let out an embarrassing moan.  Mickey followed Ian’s lead and pressed back with his own tongue until they were tangling and licking into each other’s mouths.  He felt Ian’s hands roaming over his body, first touching his chest and then reaching around to slip them under the hem of Mickey’s shirt.  Feeling Ian’s hands on his skin was like electricity, like sparks coming out of Ian’s fingertips everywhere they touched.  Mickey felt the blood rushing south rapidly. Ian’s hands continued southward to grab his ass.  And holy fuck, that was it.  His moans were getting louder and more ridiculous.  He thought maybe he should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. 

When Ian’s roaming hands came around the front to palm at Mickey’s hardness in his pants, Mickey thought he might come on the spot, and if he thought his moaning was embarrassing, well that would just be on a whole other level.  Suddenly, Mickey pulled away.

“Sorry,” Ian said, pulling his hand back as if he’d been burned.  

“No, it’s okay.  I mean, it’s more than okay.  I just…um.  Fuck, this is embarrassing,” Mickey didn’t even know what to say, as he felt heat flush his cheeks. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Mickey.  You don’t need to explain anything.  We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Mickey just huffed out a slight laugh and shook his head, looking away from Ian’s eyes.  “How are you real? Just…you’re amazing.” And Mickey couldn’t actually believe he’d just said that out loud.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ian simply said with a fond smile. 

“I just…I haven’t really…done that much.  Sexually.  It’s fuckin’ embarrassing, man.” He could feel himself blush even more furiously.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  And we can do whatever you want.  At your pace.”

Mickey just nodded. “I, um, want to do everything.  Just not sure where to start.”

“Would you, um…would you feel comfortable with watching each other jerk off?  We wouldn’t have to touch each other, just watch.  That could be a place to start.”

The thought of watching Ian jerk off caused him to suddenly become painfully hard in his jeans. 

Mickey swallowed audibly. “Yeah.  Um, yeah, that would be good.”

“Okay,” Ian said softly.  “So, uh, I’m just gonna…” Ian said as he touched the waistband of his own sweatpants, waiting for the go ahead from Mickey.  

Mickey nodded again.  Taking that as an “okay” from Mickey, Ian pulled down the front of his sweatpants and boxers to reveal his hard cock standing at attention.  And holy motherfucking shit.  It was huge.  And fucking glorious.  And Mickey thought his own dick might actually explode, he was so hard.  He fumbled with his button and zipper to finally release his own throbbing cock from his jeans.  

Ian started stroking himself as his eyes stayed glued to Mickey’s cock.  “Fuck, Mickey, you’re so fucking hot.” And Mickey couldn’t hold back anymore.  He grabbed his own dick and started stroking frantically as he stared at Ian’s hand moving up and down over his massive length.  He knew he wouldn’t last long.

It was only a matter of seconds before he was grunting out, “Fuck, Ian, I’m gonna…fuck.  Gonna come.”

“Me too, Mickey, fuck,” Ian said, and Mickey watched enraptured as Ian’s whole body tensed and he moaned, long and low, as he came all over his hand.  Mickey followed not two seconds after.  

They both collapsed back against the couch cushions and smiled shyly at each other, as if they hadn’t just watched each other have amazing orgasms.  Ian grabbed some nearby paper towels for them to clean themselves off, and they proceeded to finish watching the movie—which they hadn’t paid any attention to, so who knew what the fuck was even happening—while Mickey laid his head on Ian’s shoulder.  

A few hours later, Mickey woke up with a stiff neck.  Apparently, he’d fallen asleep with his head on Ian’s shoulder, and as he turned to look at Ian, he saw that Ian was also asleep, his head resting on the back of the couch, mouth open with a bit of drool at the corner.  Mickey thought it was pretty damn cute.  He shook Ian awake gently, whispering, “Ian.”

Ian groggily opened his eyes and looked around, noticing that they were on the couch and the movie had long ended.  Looking at the time, Mickey saw that it was around midnight, and as much as he would’ve given anything to spend the night with Ian, he had an early class in the morning and then a full day at the youth center.

“Um, I’d better get going.  I have an early class and then the youth center.” Mickey said regrettably.

“Yeah.  I have an early class too.  But text me when you get home, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Yeah.  Course,” Mickey nodded.

They walked to the door, and before Mickey walked out, Ian pulled him into a deep kiss that said more than words ever could.  It left Mickey feeling dizzy.

“Goodnight, Mick.”

“Night, Ian.”

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Mickey had to wake up bright and early the next morning because he had an early class and then he would be working at the youth center afterwards.  He still couldn’t get thoughts of last night out of his head.  He had made out with Ian, a lot, and they’d jerked off together.  And holy hell, was it hot.  He honestly couldn’t even believe that Ian was real, and more than that, he couldn’t believe that he was interested in Mickey.  What did a guy like that see in him?  He knew it was probably too good to last, but he would enjoy it while he could.  

As he padded into the kitchen for some coffee, he saw that Mandy was already up and looking right at him with a shit-eating grin on her face.  He mentally braced himself for the onslaught of annoying-ass questions.

“So…” she said, “You sure came home late last night…or should I say really early this morning?”

“Yeah, and?” Mickey said as he poured himself a cup of coffee and simultaneously rolled his eyes.

“And…did you and Ian fuck?”

And if this was a stupid comedy movie or something, Mickey would’ve done one of those spit-takes and sprayed his coffee all over Mandy.  “What the fuck??” he said instead, swallowing and burning the hell out of his tongue in the process.

“Well, you got home at like 1:00 in the morning, so…how was it?”

“Ok, first of all, were you fuckin’ waiting up for me or something?  And second, not that it’s any of your fuckin’ business, but we didn’t fuck.”

“Why not?  What are you waiting for?” 

“Jesus, Mandy, it’s not that easy, alright? Also, I’m done talking about this with you.  Moving on.” Mickey said with a hand-wave, shutting down any further line of questioning regarding his sexual activities with Ian.

Mandy huffed out a frustrated sigh and said, “You know, I remember Ian.  From high school.  It didn’t click at first, like I didn’t recognize him when I first met him at the cafe, but when you mentioned that he was from south side too, it started coming back to me.”

“Yeah?  So what?” Mickey prompted.

“I remember he was kind of a loner.  Sort of dorky, but a cute kind of dorky.  Like tons of freckles, scrawny.  Boy, has he filled out.”  Mickey rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t help but agree. “I don’t remember seeing him after like…halfway through sophomore year, so I’m not sure if he dropped out, or what happened…but I guess he finished somehow, seeing as how he’s here in college.”

Mickey just nodded.  He knew a bit about Ian’s past; well, scratch that—he knew a bit about his family history and his bipolar disorder, but not much beyond that.  He knew that Ian had gone through some shit, that much was clear, from some of the things that they’d talked about and some of the comments Ian had made.  But Mickey hadn’t told Ian about his past either, aside from the fact that he went through some shit with his dad.  And boy, did that only scratch the surface.  He was sure that Ian would look at him differently if he knew the whole story, the things that had really happened, what Mickey had done…

Now, as he thought about it, his breathing was becoming more labored, and he was struggling to get air into his lungs.  Mandy immediately saw the signs of an impending panic attack, and quickly started breathing with him.  

Once his breathing was under control, Mandy said, “Hey, what brought that on?  What are you thinking about?”

Mickey heaved a sigh. “Nothin.’ Just you bringin’ up Ian’s past and stuff…we haven’t really talked about our pasts, and if he finds out what I did—”

“Stop, Mickey. You know that none of that was your fault. You had no choice.  And Ian will understand.  You have plenty of time, you know?  This is still pretty new between you two, right?  Give it time.  It’ll be okay.”

Mickey didn’t say anything, just looked down at his cup of coffee and nervously chewed on his bottom lip.  He didn’t have time to think about this right now.  He had to get ready for class.  So he put those thoughts out of his mind for the time being. 

As Ian began his shift at the café, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.  It was Thursday, and he and Mickey hadn’t seen each other since Sunday, but that was okay.  They were both busy with work and school during the week, and that was part of life.  But they had been texting constantly throughout the day, every day, and they had been talking on the phone every night for at least an hour.  For them, talking to each other on the phone was a comfort.  It was how they had met, how they had gotten to know each other, and how they had formed such a connection.  They just didn’t want to give that up.  Now, he was excited because he knew that Thursday was one of the days that Mandy and Mickey regularly stopped by the café to get coffee and a sandwich after Mickey’s shift at the youth center.  He couldn’t wait to just look at Mickey’s face.

About an hour or so into his shift, the object of all of his thoughts and affections strutted into the café with Mandy, and he saw his face light up when he looked at Ian.  He knew that his own face was doing the very same thing. 

They walked up to the counter, and Ian said, “Hi, guys, what can I get for you?”

And it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Ian at all that Mandy had no intention of just ordering something without busting both his and Mickey’s balls first.

“Hmm, I don’t know.  What would you recommend, Ian?  What’s something that has a lot of caffeine, seeing as how I have to listen to centuries-long phone conversations every night when I’m trying to sleep?  When are you and my brother finally going to bang it out so that you guys can stop with the verbal foreplay?” Mandy smirked as both Mickey and Ian turned beet red. 

“Um, uh…,” Ian stuttered out, not sure how to respond.

“Hey, stop giving my boyfriend a hard time, bitch.  Order something already,” Mickey intervened. 

But Ian was focused on one word and one word alone.  He gaped at Mickey with wide eyes as Mickey clearly registered what he’d just said, and if possible, turned an even deeper shade of red.  Ian was actually a bit concerned that he might explode. 

“Your what??” Mandy teased.

“Um, nothing, fuck off,” Mickey said, embarrassed.

Ian wasn’t having any of that. “His boyfriend, he said.  I like the sound of that.  A lot.” Ian smiled fondly as Mickey chanced a look at him, some of the embarrassment falling away.

“Yeah?” Mickey said hopefully.

“Yeah.” They just stared at each other for a few seconds before Mandy interrupted their moment.

“Um, sorry to interrupt, but I would actually like to order something and would love it if I could do it without vomiting.  You guys are so cute it’s gross.  Like, seriously disgusting.”

Mickey just gave Mandy the finger as Ian laughed.  They both put in their orders, but Ian and Mickey couldn’t tear their eyes away from each other.  His boyfriend.  Yeah, Ian definitely liked the sound of that. 

Of course, Mickey knew he hadn’t heard the end of it.  As soon as Ian was off the clock, Mickey got a text from him.

Ian [9:02 p.m.]: Boyfriend, huh? ☺️

Mickey [9:03 p.m.]: Ah fuck, I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?

Ian [9:04 p.m.]: Nope. Boyfriend. 🥰

Mickey [9:05 p.m.]: Ur a dumbass, ya know that?

Ian [9:07 p.m.]: You’re the one with a dumbass for a boyfriend, so what does that say about you?

Mickey [9:08 p.m.]: It says that I guess ur a dumbass that I happen to like.  A lot.

Ian [9:09 p.m.]: 😍

Mickey [9:09 p.m.]: 🖕🏻

Ian [9:10 p.m.]: 😂

Ian [9:10 p.m.]: Come over tomorrow, ok? Please? Really want to see you. 

Mickey [9:11 p.m.]: Yeah. Wanna see you too.  I’ll come over after I’m done at the center. 

Ian [9:12 p.m.]: Ok.  Good night, Mickey. 

Mickey [9:12 p.m.]: Night Ian

*

The next day, Mickey headed to the youth center like he did every day.  Today, though, he would be seeing his…boyfriend.  He still couldn’t believe that he’d slipped up and used the b-word right in front of Ian.  They hadn’t even talked about their relationship really, much less put a label on it, but it was clear what they were.  Neither of them wanted to be with anyone else, that was obvious.  Having a boyfriend wasn’t something that was even on his radar, but now that he had one, he was surprised at how happy that made him.  Of course he knew that it wasn’t the fact that he had a boyfriend that was making him happy, it was the fact that it was Ian. 

Since most of the kids at the youth center didn’t come in until the afternoon because of school, the mornings at the center were typically spent setting up group activities for when most of them would arrive. Since Mickey was a counseling intern, he wasn’t doing the heavy lifting as far as following up on foster placements, finding available beds at shelters, contacting social services, and the like; that’s what the social workers did, but all of the interns assisted with those tasks as much as possible. 

As the day went on and the kids started to trickle in, Mickey saw a new face that he hadn’t seen before.  The kid had black hair and multiple facial piercings, and a sullen look that told anyone who saw him that he’d been through some shit.  Mickey could see it in the set of his shoulders and his downcast eyes. In group, he didn’t share much, except that his name was Marcus.

Mickey learned later on from Zach that Marcus had been kicked out of his house by his parents for being gay.  “We get a lot of LGBTQIA+ kids here at the center.  A lot of times there’s a whole other layer to working with them, beyond just their home life and their family’s treatment of them. So much of it is their self-identity and how they see themselves, and that’s something that we really try to strengthen.”

Mickey just nodded.  He had no idea what some of those letters even stood for, but he knew that he was one of those letters.  And he felt like such a fraud.  He couldn’t even disclose the fact that he was gay to Zach.  It was something that could help him relate to these kids, and he still couldn’t be open about it.  How could he help these kids be comfortable with themselves and accept themselves when he couldn’t even do the same?

*

The whole situation with Marcus had him so fucked up in the head, that all he really wanted to do was see Ian.  When he arrived at Ian’s apartment, Ian opened the door, and he was a sight for sore eyes.  Mickey instantly felt better just by laying eyes on him. 

They hadn’t really planned anything, so they decided to just order Chinese take-out and watch whatever movie they could find on Netflix. 

And just like before, it wasn’t long before movie watching turned into cuddling, which turned into making out, which turned into desperate groping.

Before long, Mickey was climbing onto Ian’s lap and straddling him right there on the couch.  He could feel Ian’s hard length rubbing against his as he ground down seeking friction.  He was dangerously close to coming in his pants, and by the sounds of Ian’s moans, he wasn’t too far from it either.  

As Ian’s lips moved down to Mickey’s neck, where he took his time sucking and licking, surely leaving a mark—Mickey hoped—he paused his ministrations to whisper in Mickey’s ear, “Can I suck you off?  Wanna taste you.”

“Fuck, yes,” Mickey breathed out.

Mickey knew he would probably blow about 1.5 seconds after Ian got his mouth around his cock, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

He sat back on the couch as Ian got to his knees and quickly undid Mickey’s jeans to free his cock.  As if Ian felt as desperate as Mickey did, he immediately took Mickey into his mouth, all the way down to the base.  Mickey could only grunt out, “Oh fuck, Ian, fuck,” as he threaded his fingers through Ian’s hair.

Ian started bobbing up and down in earnest, intermittently swirling his tongue in a way that Mickey had definitely never felt before, and, as predicted, he was done for.

“Shit, Ian, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he warned, assuming that Ian would want to pull off.  But Ian just moaned around his cock and locked eyes with Mickey as he came with Ian’s name on his lips, Ian swallowing every last drop.

Ian continued to lick him clean until Mickey was overly sensitive.   He pulled off and tucked Mickey back into his pants before climbing back onto the couch and leaning in to give him a passionate kiss. Mickey could taste himself on Ian’s tongue, and it was hot as hell.

Mickey wasn’t sure if he was ready to blow Ian, but he desperately wanted him to get off too.  As they continued to lick into each other’s mouths, Mickey set to work unbuttoning Ian’s pants.  “Can I?”, he said, to which Ian responded, “Fuck yes,” and Mickey pulled out Ian’s cock.  God, it was a thing of beauty.  He started stroking Ian as tongues tangled together, and with the copious amount of precum that Ian was leaking, his hand glided easily.  

Ian panted against Mickey’s mouth for only a few more seconds before he was coming all over Mickey’s hand.  As Ian looked at him with glassy eyes, pupils blown, completely soft and vulnerable, Mickey all of a sudden felt bold.  He brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean, keeping his eyes on Ian’s the whole time.  Mickey had never tasted anyone’s cum before, and the fact that it was Ian’s turned him on so much that he felt like he could already get hard again.

“Oh god, that’s so fucking hot.  You’re fucking amazing, Mickey.”

“Not so bad yourself, Red,” Mickey said, smiling softly.

“Do you want to, um, spend the night maybe?” Ian asked hesitantly, like he thought Mickey might say no.  But there was nowhere else that Mickey would rather be. 

“Yeah.  Let’s go to bed,” Mickey said.

They fell asleep cuddled together, and Mickey was pretty sure he was already head over heels for this guy. 

Chapter Text

Ian woke up the next morning with his face buried against the back of Mickey’s neck, his nose filled with Mickey’s scent.  He was completely wrapped around him, his chest pressed up against Mickey’s back.  He remembered waking up with Mickey in this same position only a week ago, but it seemed like so long ago.  Now, he thought it might be okay to explore Mickey’s body a little bit, whereas before, he had jumped back with embarrassment when his morning wood had grazed Mickey’s ass.  Now, he thought that Mickey might not mind it.  

Ian whispered in Mickey’s ear, “Good morning,” as he felt him stirring awake.  Mickey’s eyes were still closed, but a smile was spreading across his face.

“Mmm, morning,” Mickey said groggily.

Ian, whose hand was already wrapped around Mickey’s waist, tentatively moved it down to just above Mickey’s morning erection.  “This okay?” Ian checked in with him first.

“Mmmhmm,” Mickey responded, and Ian took that as his cue to reach into Mickey’s boxers and wrap his hand around his cock, which started leaking after just a few strokes, slicking it up and causing a smooth up and down glide.  

As Mickey groaned and thrust his hips up to meet Ian’s hand, Ian couldn’t take it and began to rut his hardness against Mickey’s ass. He could feel his cock slip right in between Mickey’s cheeks even through their boxer shorts.  Ian continued to thrust in time with his strokes, and before long, they were both erupting with simultaneous moans.  

Ian wiped his hand on his discarded t-shirt that he’d found on the floor, as Mickey just lay back with a sex-drunk smile on his face.  “What a way to wake up,” he said dreamily.

Ian just chuckled and leaned in to kiss Mickey’s lips, morning breath be damned.  

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Mickey asked, “You wanna go somewhere, or just hang out here, or you can come to my place?  Mandy has a late class tonight so she’ll be gone most of the evening.”

Shit, Ian thought.  He’d almost forgotten that he’d accepted an escort gig for tonight. The request came through a couple of days ago, and it was with Richard, so he knew it would be an easy one.  He’d found out soon after his complaint against Walter had been filed that the agency had revoked his membership, so Ian took some comfort in that.  He didn’t love doing escort gigs, especially when he’d obviously rather be with Mickey, but the money was just too good to turn down.

“Um, I actually have an escort gig tonight,” Ian said reluctantly.

But Mickey didn’t say anything in response.  As Ian looked at him, he could see Mickey’s chest heaving up and down as he took deep breaths. 

“I’m sorry, Mickey, I should’ve told you sooner, I just accepted this gig a couple of days ago.”

“I just…after what happened before…” Mickey said, trying to get the words out through his halted breathing.

“I’ve had Richard as a client a bunch of times, Mickey. It’s okay, he’s not like Walter.  He’s totally harmless. They revoked Walter’s membership, so I won’t ever have to worry about him again.”

“Just…” Mickey said in almost a whisper, “don’t like the idea of some old douchebag flaunting you around like some trophy. It bothers me, can’t help it.”

“Mickey, you know I’m not doing anything with these guys, right?  I told you about this job already, you know that there’s nothing sexual about it.”

“Yeah, not to you maybe.  To them, you’re some fucking object that they can dangle in front of everybody.  Even if there’s no sexual favors involved.” Ian could tell that Mickey was getting frustrated, but he also didn’t like the implications of what Mickey was saying.

“That’s so fucked up, Mickey.  You know what the difference is?  I have agency, I have the power to say no if I want to, and I don’t have to accept any gigs that I don’t want to take.”  Now Ian was starting to get heated.

“Really?  Is that why you were with that dickhead who basically tried to attack you at the benefit?  Was that your choice?”

“You know what, Mickey?  Yeah, it was my choice to accept the gig.  I can’t control other people’s actions, and I’m not going to sit here while you act like what he did was my fault.  And guess what? I’m also not going to be victim-blamed for being taken advantage of over and over by men who were calling me a whore while they grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth when I was a teenager, drugged out and manic, living on the streets.” Ian spat out, realizing too late that he’d said way more than he’d intended.

“I didn’t…that’s not what…” Mickey stuttered out.  He clearly hadn’t been expecting Ian’s outburst, nor the information that he’d just shared.

“Maybe you should just go home, Mickey.” 

“Fine,” Mickey said defeatedly, as he put on his clothes and shoes.  He walked out the door without so much as a goodbye, slamming it shut behind him.

Ian knew he had messed up as soon as Mickey left his apartment.  Mickey didn’t know about Ian’s past, how could he?  He just didn’t want his boyfriend going out on dates with other men, and how could he blame him for that?  He was going to have to make this right sooner rather than later, and the only way to do that was to come clean about his past.

Mickey walked back to his own apartment as tears stung at his eyes and he sucked down a cigarette in just a few long puffs. He knew that he’d fucked up.  He really didn’t mean to victim-blame Ian.  He knew it wasn’t his fault that the asshole client from the benefit had basically tried to sexually assault him.  Of course that wasn’t his fault.  He just didn’t like his boyfriend being flaunted around like some piece of meat by some rich old fuck.  And how could Ian blame him for that?  But everything he said came out all wrong.  As usual, Mickey couldn’t just come out with it and tell Ian how he was really feeling.  That he was his boyfriend, and it made him uncomfortable for him to be with those men. That to him, he was so much more than a piece of arm candy.  He was everything.  

And not for the first time, Mickey wondered how the fuck he was expected to be a counselor and get other people to open up about their feelings when he was so incapable of doing that himself.  He was emotionally stunted; did he have any business trying to help other people?

He honestly didn’t see the point in waiting.  As soon as he got back to his apartment, he called Ian.  He picked up after the first ring.  

“Hi, Mickey.”

“Hi.  Um, I’m sorry,” Mickey said in almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry too.  I don’t want to fight with you.  Can you come back? Please?”

Mickey chuckled.  “You’re lucky I live right across the street, Red.”

As soon as Mickey had arrived at his apartment, he was basically turning right back around and going out the door.

Mickey arrived at Ian’s apartment only a couple of minutes later, with the phone still held to his ear, Ian still on the other line.  

When Ian opened the door, they both hung up their phones and fell into each other’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey said as he buried his face in Ian’s neck. “I’m just so fucked up emotionally that I can’t even just say how I’m really feeling.  It’s a fuckin’ joke.  How the hell am I supposed to help people when I can’t even help myself?”

At that, Ian pulled back and looked Mickey directly in the eyes.  “Mickey, I’m not sure if you realize how fucking much you helped me.  When I first called that day, when I was thinking about hurting myself, you saved me.” Mickey just shook his head, and Ian put his fingers under Mickey’s chin to tilt his head back towards him.  “Hey.  It’s true.  I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much you helped me, and how much I’m sure you’ve helped other people who were in my same position.  There is no one in the world who would be a better counselor than you.  You’re incredible.”

Mickey just looked down as he said, “I just wish…I dunno.  I wish I could be more…open I guess.  Like with my feelings or whatever.  I’m expecting other people to confide in me when I can’t even be honest with myself or with anyone, really.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Ian said. “I am the very last person who will ever judge you. Do you remember that I told you on our third phone call that I want to be there for you?  That offer still stands.  I will always be here to listen.”

Mickey simply nodded, still not ready to open up completely.

Ian continued, “Um, there’s a lot of stuff that I should probably tell you, too.  About my past. You know about my bipolar, but the other stuff…fuck.” 

“Same goes for you, ya know?  You know you can tell me anything,” Mickey responded.

“Can we, um…can we lie down? On the bed?” Ian said hesitantly.

“Yeah, course,” Mickey said as he followed Ian to the bed. 

As they lay on the bed side by side, turning to face each other, Ian said, “So, uh, I want to tell you about the stuff I went through a while back.  Like, when I was a teenager.”

Mickey nodded, but stayed quiet, letting Ian share at his own pace.

Ian cleared his throat. “Well, um, my mom died when I was sixteen.  I think I was maybe a sophomore in high school? I think I told you the first time I called the crisis line, she um, she killed herself.  Took a bunch of pills and I found her.  She was a shit mom, never around, we would see her once every few months.  And my dad, well not even really my dad, he was a drunk who was also never around.  We were basically raised by my oldest sister.  But even though she was a terrible mother, it still hit me pretty hard.  I was the one who was closest to her, and no one really even cared when she died.  It seemed like I was the only one who even gave a shit that she was gone.”

Mickey just reached out and wiped an errant tear off of Ian’s cheek, letting him continue.

“So shortly after that, I had my first manic episode, even though I didn’t know it at the time.  I got a job as a bartender at a gay club in Boystown.  They didn’t give a shit how old anyone was who worked there.  The younger, the better I guess.  But I didn’t only serve drinks.  I basically exchanged sexual favors for drugs or money.  Mostly drugs.  I took whatever they gave me.  It was mostly older men, like way older.  I remember them just forcing me to my knees and grabbing my hair so hard, calling me a whore and any other name they could think of.  But I kept doing it.  I was so out of it.  I basically lived on the street, or in different hotel or seedy motel rooms, depending on who was plying me with drugs that night.  I even walked the streets of Boystown offering myself up in exchange for whatever they were willing to give.”

Mickey threaded his fingers together with Ian’s, holding his hand tight as he continued.

“It was weeks and weeks before my brother and sister finally found me.  Sometimes I wonder how hard my family was even looking for me.  Like I was only sixteen, ya know?  How long was I missing before they even started looking?” He chuckled sardonically.  

“After they brought me home I fell into depression.  Really, really deep depression. Of course because of my mom, they figured out that I probably had bipolar and checked me into the psych ward.  I wasn’t there for very long, but that’s when I thought about maybe becoming a nurse, seeing the nurses there and how they were really the ones who provided any kind of comfort to the patients. I already told you a little bit about that part, on our first date.”

Mickey nodded, his eyes now filling with tears.

“So, anyway, that’s why escorting, it’s kind of a way to reclaim my agency I guess? I dunno how to explain it.  Like I’m in control when I accept those gigs, I’m completely sober and I make the rules.  Of course there are assholes like Walter, but for the most part it’s actually kind of liberating in a way.”

Mickey took a deep breath, and Ian saw a tear escape and roll down his cheek. “Fuck.  I’m so fucking sorry.”

Ian knew that Mickey wasn’t just apologizing for their earlier argument, but for everything that Ian had gone through.  

Ian thumbed away the tear from Mickey’s cheek and whispered, “It’s okay.  I’m okay.”

Mickey didn’t even know what to say. He felt like a dick.  He’d just been a jealous asshole, and it was stupid.  To Ian, escorting was strictly a job.  To Mickey, it felt like it was demeaning to Ian, and he didn’t like that, but Ian viewed it as exactly the opposite.  For him, it was almost like reclaiming his past and what he’d gone through.  So while he couldn’t deny that it bothered him, he would let it go and accept it—for Ian.  He was pretty sure that there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Ian at this point.

As Mickey lay there, arms and legs entangled with Ian’s, he thought about what Ian had told him, and he remembered what Mandy had said.  She said that she remembered Ian vaguely in high school, until he disappeared sophomore year. His stomach turned as he realized the reason why.  And as Mickey realized that when Ian was sixteen, Mickey was seventeen, and he remembered what he’d done when he was seventeen, he felt bile rise up in his throat.  

Fuck, it could’ve been Ian.  Ian was hanging out in the streets of Boystown and working at one of the clubs, just like the guy who Terry had forced him to beat. Mickey would never get the guy’s face out of his mind, and the thought that it could’ve just as easily been Ian that night made Mickey hold him tighter and never want to let go.  And he wasn’t sure if he would still be able to hold him like this if Ian knew who he really was; if he knew what he’d done. 

Chapter Text

Mickey was pretty much on auto-pilot for the rest of the weekend and the week that followed. On Saturday, Ian of course had his escorting gig, the same one that had been the impetus for their very first fight.  All Mickey could do that evening was lie around and mope, thinking about Ian on a date with some old douchebag.  He knew that it of course wasn’t actually a date, and he knew he was being an asshole for thinking that way, but it still really bugged him.

Mandy had tried to coax him out of his bedroom to watch a movie with her, as she could tell that he was just wallowing in self-pity, but he couldn’t be bothered to snap himself out of it. He just wanted to feel sorry for himself for a bit. 

Mandy was slowly starting to piece things together.  She of course knew that Ian and Mickey had started dating and were now boyfriends, but how they’d met had remained a mystery.  Since that first strange encounter at the cafe, she knew that something had happened between them, but she didn’t know what.  Mickey wouldn’t divulge any details about how they met.  That was a breach of confidentiality, and it would be a huge betrayal of Ian’s trust. 

During her solo visits to the cafe when Ian was working, they’d had the chance to talk quite a few times, and they were actually becoming friends in their own right, separate from the fact that he was dating her brother.  Ian had disclosed to her that he’d met Mickey through the crisis counseling center, but he hadn’t given her any more details, and she knew better than to push.  He’d also told her about his other job working for an escort agency, and about how Mickey was his knight in shining armor—he’d actually used those words, much to her disgust—at the youth center’s fundraising benefit when one of his clients had crossed the line.  

So when Mandy asked why Mickey wasn’t with Ian and he simply responded, “Working,” before proceeding to go into his room to pout, Mandy knew exactly what was going on.  But try as she might, all of her attempts to take Mickey’s mind off of it failed miserably.

On Sunday, Ian picked up an evening shift at the cafe.  He didn’t usually work there on weekends, but he had told Mickey that he needed to make up the hours since he’d missed some days during his downswing.  And what could Mickey say to that?  He basically wanted to be with Ian all the time, but he couldn’t stop him from working. They both had lives, they both had classes, they both had jobs.  It was what it was.

So Mickey went on with his week, not having seen Ian since Friday, when they’d had a fight and Ian had told Mickey about his past.  Since Mickey had realized that Ian trusted him way too much, given what he himself had done in the past.  And since he realized that he didn’t know how he was ever going to tell Ian about what he’d done.  

It was Thursday, and Mickey headed into the youth center as he did every weekday.  He was still just going through the motions, not having been in a good head space ever since that conversation with Ian, and not having seen him since.  They of course were still texting throughout the day, every day, but it wasn’t the same.  

He worked on setting up activities for the group sessions with the kids who would get there later, checked in with the kids who were already there, and helped the social workers with whatever he could.  

When the majority of the kids arrived after school let out, Mickey was snapped out of the zombie-like state he’d been in all week as his eyes landed on Danny.  Mickey had built a pretty good foundation of trust with Danny, he felt.  He’d had some one-on-one sessions with him, but he rarely shared during group time.  During some of their private conversations, Danny had disclosed enough information for Mickey to know that he lived in an abusive household, much like the one in which Mickey grew up.  He knew that his dad was an abusive asshole, just like his own father had been.

Today, when Danny walked into the center, Mickey instantly clocked the bruises on Danny’s arms, the black eye, the gash on his cheekbone, and the split lip.  Mickey looked at Zach for approval, and Zach’s subtle nod let him know that it was okay for Mickey to approach Danny and attempt to get him to confide in him.

Mickey approached Danny and said, “Hey, Danny, you wanna go into the office and talk for a second?”

Danny just nodded and followed Mickey into one of the offices with his head down.

When they sat down, Mickey asked, “Is there anything you want to talk about?  You know that I’m always here for you, to listen to whatever you want to say.”

“Not really,” Danny said as he shrugged his shoulders, continuing to avoid meeting Mickey’s eyes.

Mickey just continued, “You know, I remember when I was your age I’d always get pissed off when people tried to talk to me, when they would ask me questions, especially about stuff going on at home, stuff with my dad, ya know?  But looking back, I think holding all of that shit in just made it worse.  Like it just made me feel more trapped, like I was stuck inside myself with nowhere to go. So you don’t have to talk to me, but I want you to know that sometimes it helps to get stuff out that’s stuck inside.”

Danny just nodded and continued to look down at the ground.

“Danny, did your dad do this to you? All of the bruises and the black eye?”

Danny nodded again, still not saying anything.  

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Mickey tried.

Danny shook his head.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me, but just know that I’m here whenever you’re ready to.  You, uh, want to join the other kids? I think they’re gonna be having a Mario Kart tournament or something, and we’re getting snacks ready.”

Danny nodded and headed out of the office to join some of the other kids. 

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered to himself.  He knew that he couldn’t force Danny to talk to him, to confide in him.  He’d been there himself.  If anyone would’ve tried to get him to confide in them when he was Danny’s age, he would’ve told them to fuck off.  Truthfully, he probably would’ve punched them in the face.  But something about seeing Danny like that released so many emotions in himself.  He remembered being constantly covered in bruises, always having cuts on his face, black eyes, all at the hands of Terry.  On top of that, he was always dirty.  Too preoccupied with not getting his ass beat to worry about proper hygiene, and it wasn’t like he had any kind of parental figure to teach him about it or make sure he was clean.  

He tried to shake himself out of those thoughts, tried not to think about Terry, about anything having to do with the shit he’d gone through growing up, but it stayed on his mind throughout the rest of his shift.  He could see the blankness in Danny’s eyes too, no matter how much he tried to interact with the other kids.  

He knew that the social workers would do their due diligence and follow up with social services.  That, at least, was more than Mickey had at his age.  No one gave enough of a shit to ever report anything back then.  Actually, no, scratch that—-there were a few different times that Mickey remembered social services coming into the home, but Mickey and his siblings were trained to put on their little act, as if everything was perfect. There was always this innate distrust in the system that was instilled in them from such an early age where they grew up, that they just went along with it—that, coupled with Terry’s threats of course. Mickey did remember one time that he and his siblings were actually removed from the home, because apparently the bruises were too evident to hide, and Terry didn’t bother to hide his guns, drugs, and needles, but that had only been for a very short period of time before Terry was able to get them back.  Why he even wanted them back, Mickey would never know. He supposed that Terry must have missed his punching bags. 

When Mickey’s shift was over, there was truly only one person that Mickey wanted to see—Ian. He knew that Ian was working at the cafe, but he hoped he would be off soon.  He pulled out his phone to send him a text.

Mickey [6:05 p.m.]: Hey. What time are you off? Was hoping I could come over tonight.  Really bad day, just need to see you.  

Ian [6:09 p.m.]: I’m supposed to be off at 8.  Is everything ok?  

Mickey [6:10 p.m.]: Not really.  But it’s fine, I’ll be ok. Have a good rest of your shift. ttyl.

Mickey continued to walk aimlessly, not even heading back to his apartment.  He didn’t really know where he was going. He pulled out a cigarette and sat down on a bus stop bench, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag of it.  He wasn’t sure how long he was there for, but he was snapped out of his stupor when he felt his phone buzzing.  He pulled it out to see that it was an incoming call from Ian.

He quickly swiped to answer. “Hey.”

“Hi. I told my boss that I had a family emergency so I needed to leave early.  I was worried about you. You didn’t sound so good, even over text.  Are you okay?”

“Um, I don’t know, just…bad day I guess.  Just miss you, wanted to see you.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Just sitting on a bus stop bench a couple blocks from the center.”

“Ok, I’m headed in that direction. Oh, I see you.  Hey, I’m right here.”

Mickey looked up to see a redheaded ray of light walking towards him, holding his phone to his ear and waving at him.  

Mickey waved back as they both hung up their phones.  Ian approached and sat down next to Mickey.  He held out two fingers, motioning for Mickey to hand him the cigarette so he could take a drag.  

Mickey handed it to him and said, “You smoke?”

“You smoke?” Ian simply responded.

“Touché,” Mickey chuckled softly.  “Trying to cut back, but just needed one right now.”

“Same, I suppose,” Ian said. “It’s cold as fuck out here. Wanna come back to my place, talk about it?”

Mickey nodded.  “Dunno if I wanna talk about it, but yeah.”

They stood up and started walking in comfortable quiet towards Ian’s apartment. It was about a 20 minute walk, but they didn’t feel a need to fill the silence.

     __________________

When they arrived back at Ian’s apartment, Mickey immediately took his shoes off and stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, promptly laying down on the bed.  Ian loved that Mickey was so comfortable in his space.  That’s what he wanted.  He wanted this to be a shared space for them, and he wanted Mickey there as much as possible.

Ian had been so worried when Mickey texted him earlier.  Even over text message, he didn’t sound like himself.  He sounded upset, and Ian didn’t like it.  He’d immediately told his boss, Jerry, that he needed to leave.  He needed to be there for Mickey.  

He quickly stripped down to his boxers and undershirt as well, and joined Mickey on the bed.  He pulled Mickey closer, wrapping his arms around him with Mickey’s head on his chest.

“Mickey, what happened?  You know you can tell me,” Ian whispered and kissed the top of Mickey’s head. 

Mickey just shook his head. “Um, just…remember I told you about the kid at the center? The one who reminds me so much of myself at his age?  He just came in all bruised and banged up, black eye, split lip, everything.  It reminded me of when I was a kid, and my dad always beating the shit out of me every chance he got.  He was just…a fucking homophobic prick.  An abusive asshole.  I sometimes would lay awake at night thinking of ways I could kill him and get away with it.”

Ian just squeezed him tighter, wishing he could take all of that pain away from him.  He would hold him as tight as he could, until that pain disappeared.

Ian didn’t even know how long they were just lying there, before he heard Mickey’s voice, barely audible, say, “I, um, want to…have sex.  Like for real.”

Ian’s eyes widened, and he said, “You mean, um, anal? Sorry, I just want to make sure.” He felt slightly embarrassed asking, but he knew that this was new to Mickey and he didn’t want to cross any lines that he wasn’t ready to cross. 

Mickey nodded. “Yeah.”

“D-do you know if you, um…wh-what position…” Ian stuttered out.

“I want you inside me,” Mickey simply said.

And fuck. Yes.  Ian had hoped, but he didn’t want to push Mickey in either direction.  He cared about Mickey so much that he would follow his lead no matter what, as long as they were both comfortable with it.  But the fact that Mickey wanted to bottom…fuck yes.

Ian tried to control his breathing, but it was hard.  Mickey’s head was still resting on his chest, and he was sure that he could hear and feel his heart pounding.  

Ian said, “Okay.  Yeah.  N-not…um, right now, though, right?  Or did you…”

“No. I need to, um, prepare, ya know? Maybe this weekend or something?”

Ian understood.  “Yeah.  Of course.”

When Mickey was ready, Ian would follow his lead.  He was pretty sure he’d do most anything for this man.  Mickey trusted him, and that was something he cherished.  He wouldn’t let him down. 

Chapter Text

Mickey had ended up spending the night at Ian’s place.  He was completely drained emotionally, so nothing past cuddling had happened, which was fine.  All he wanted was to be with Ian, to talk to him, to touch him.  He just needed that comfort.  He still couldn’t believe that he’d told Ian he was ready for more.  Thinking back on it, it was kind of embarrassing.  He probably sounded like a virgin on prom night, telling her boyfriend that she was ready to “go all the way.”  Fuck, he probably sounded like such an idiot.  But Ian didn’t seem to think so, and he’d been so understanding, and almost sounded just as nervous and flustered as Mickey when they were talking about it.  

Based on what he knew of Ian’s history, he was pretty sure that while Ian may have had his fair share of sex—not all of it completely consensual, from what Ian had shared, which made Mickey’s stomach turn and his blood boil—he guessed that he probably hadn’t had a lot of sex that meant anything; that meant more than just sex, more than a quick fuck.  

He knew that this meant just as much to Ian as it did to Mickey.  There was no way that either of them could deny their feelings.  Mickey didn’t dare say that four-letter word yet, he knew that it was way too soon, but he also knew that he was well on his way there.  

Unfortunately, they both had early classes and work the next day, so they weren’t able to savor their morning together, but it was okay. Ian had assured him that he was completely free on Saturday, and they made plans for Mickey to come over on Saturday evening.  And Mickey knew what that meant.  

While he was absolutely ready for what he knew was going to happen, he also wasn’t.  Mickey wasn’t some blushing virgin; even though he was inexperienced, he was ready and willing for all of it to happen.  He’d watched enough porn and experimented enough with his fingers in his ass, and a couple of beginners’ toys on occasion, to know what he liked.  That wasn’t a question.  But he knew it would be so much different with Ian’s cock inside of him. The most obvious difference was that Ian was fucking big.  He’d seen his cock, he’d had his own hand wrapped around it, and while it was a gorgeous cock, it was pretty fuckin’ huge.  

But more than just the physical part, the emotional part of it scared him, too.  He’d never felt this way about anyone, not even remotely close.  He’d never let anyone in before, never let anyone really get to know him.  And this was one more step, a huge step, in opening up even further, exposing more of himself to Ian.  Ian was slowly peeling away all of Mickey’s layers, and while he loved it, it also scared the hell out of him.  Because although he would love to just put it way back in the recesses of his mind, there were things inside there that he didn’t want to be revealed. If Ian kept peeling away, he would find things that he wouldn’t like.  At all.  And Mickey knew this.  

For now though, he hoped that Ian wouldn’t quite get to those dark parts of Mickey.  Those parts that he wished he could hide forever.  For now, he just wanted to be with Ian.  

So Mickey went about his Friday as usual.  He spent a few hours at the youth center, getting to know Marcus a bit, and still keeping an eye on Danny and hoping he would be able to trust him enough to talk to him.  He liked Marcus, he was a good kid.  His father was a homophobic prick, just like his own, who’d kicked Marcus to the curb when he’d found out he was gay.  Mickey wished he had the balls to tell Marcus that he knew exactly what he was going through, that his father was also a homophobic piece of shit who’d forced Mickey to do the unthinkable when he’d found out about his sexuality.  But he still found himself holding back.  He just wasn’t ready to go there yet, and it made him feel like he was failing Marcus and the other kids who were starting to trust him.

Danny was still only engaging in relatively surface-level conversation with Mickey, but he figured at least it was something.  Just like Mickey, he had several layers that needed to be peeled back to get to the core, and he would be patient.  

Mickey’s Friday evening was spent texting Ian and Googling anything and everything about anal sex.  He reminded himself several times that he would need to clear his search history afterwards, since he and Mandy shared a computer.  Ian was working and catching up on schoolwork, but they texted each other throughout the day and into the evening, not being able to get enough of each other, even if it was just via text message.  Mickey’s internet research had led him to the conclusion that he needed to go out and buy a couple of things to make sure he was fully…prepared.   

*

On Saturday, there was literally nothing else on his mind.  Ian, sex, Ian, sex, Ian, sex, Ian’s cock in my ass …that was all that was running through his head the entire day. He knew that he was probably psyching himself out by overthinking it, but he couldn’t help it.

Mandy clearly noticed that Mickey’s mind was entirely elsewhere, and she had a shit-eating grin on her face every time she looked at him. Fuck, she knew, he could tell.  Was he that fucking obvious?  Jesus Christ.  Needless to say, he couldn’t wait until Mandy went to work.  She typically worked on Saturdays at her restaurant job, as a server at a relatively upscale place just outside of college town, and he was thankful for it.  He needed that time to himself before he was going to head over to Ian’s apartment.  

He spent a lot of time trying to decide what to wear, which was ridiculous, because if all went according to plan, he wouldn’t really be wearing clothes for long once he got to Ian’s place. But he still really wanted to look nice for him.  Since they weren’t going anywhere, though, he settled for a Depeche Mode t-shirt that he knew Ian would like, and he secretly hoped that Ian would pick up on the little callback to their first ever conversation—promptly followed by him wondering when exactly he became the biggest sap alive.  Jesus.   He paired the t-shirt with some comfortable joggers.  He figured he would go for clothes that were the easiest and fastest to remove.  

Once he decided what he was going to wear, he took a very, very thorough shower, during which he fully prepared himself for bottoming for the first time.  After he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, he threw his clothes on, and as his heart pounded in his chest, he absently wondered if Ian was feeling as anxious as he was.  He was sure he wasn’t.

Ian was pacing like a madman in his apartment waiting for Mickey to arrive.  He truly could not comprehend why he was so…nervous?  It really was ridiculous when he thought about it.  He’d had sex countless times, he’d fucked plenty of guys in the ass.  But this just wasn’t the same, was it?  It wasn’t even in the same realm of existence.  Mickey was absolutely nothing like any of those men, most of whom he didn’t even remember and would rather put completely out of his mind.  This wasn’t drugged-out fucking, this wasn’t manic hypersexuality, this wasn’t a casual Grindr hook-up.  This was Mickey.  His Mickey.  For the first time ever, there were actual feelings involved.  Add to that the fact that this would be Mickey’s first time bottoming, and first time even having penetrative sex with a man, and it amplified the feelings even more.  It reminded Ian of the amount of trust that Mickey had in him.  It was a little overwhelming.  

When he heard the knock on the door, he flung it open in seconds flat.  He saw Mickey standing there looking just so fucking sexy, so cute, so cozy…there were so many words he could use to describe him.  He just wanted to wrap himself up in Mickey and never leave.   When Mickey came inside the apartment, he just smiled and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ian said, and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Um, do you want anything to drink?  I have water, soda, some beers even though I don’t really drink—”

Suddenly, his ramblings were interrupted by Mickey’s lips on his.  Mickey kissed him passionately, his hands tangled in Ian’s hair, and gently nudged him towards the bed, never separating his lips from Ian’s.

They both landed on the bed together and continued making out, tongues tangling and hot breath intermingling, as limbs intertwined.  Before long, both sets of hands were inching up under shirt hems to touch bare skin, and clothes needed to come off.  

Ian lifted the bottom of Mickey’s shirt and pulled it up as Mickey raised his arms, allowing it to be removed completely.  Ian hadn’t seen Mickey with his shirt off, since all of their previous sexual encounters had just involved pulling out their dicks, and Mickey wore a tank top every time he slept over.  Now, seeing his bare chest and torso, there was a little freckle next to his belly button that was calling his name.  He needed to get his lips on it.  Pushing Mickey down to lie flat on his back, Ian sat up and pulled off his own shirt.  He saw Mickey visibly swallow as he took in Ian’s shirtless form, and Ian needed to kiss him. So he did.  He then moved down Mickey’s body to kiss that little freckle.  He kissed it, he licked it, and he sucked on it, all the while reveling in the little whimpers and moans coming from Mickey.  

“C’mere,” Mickey said, pulling Ian back up so that he could attack his lips and tongue once again, and Ian happily obliged.  Ian was on top of Mickey, and he could feel his hardness beneath him.  He moved against him, rubbing their clothed cocks together, creating delicious friction, and bringing Ian dangerously close to blowing before he even got his pants off. 

Suddenly, he felt Mickey flip him over so he could get on top, and he thought it was hot as fuck.  Mickey started kissing Ian’s chest, exploring his bare skin with his lips, stopping at one of his nipples to flick it with his tongue and catch it lightly with his teeth, which resulted in Ian letting out an embarrassing half-whimper, half-moan.  Mickey looked up and locked eyes with Ian, giving him a mischievous smile before continuing down Ian’s body.  Fuck, this little shit knew exactly what he was doing.  He may have been inexperienced, but he was definitely not innocent.  When Mickey’s lips reached the top of Ian’s waistband, Mickey looked up at him for the go-ahead, and Ian nodded.  Mickey pulled Ian’s sweatpants down and pulled out his cock, which was already leaking an almost embarrassing amount.

“Wanna taste you.  Really bad.  Can I?”  Mickey asked, chest heaving with deep breaths.  Ian knew how he was feeling.  He was also having a hard time catching his breath. 

“Yeah.  Fuck yeah, I want that.  Please.”

Ian knew that Mickey had never given a blowjob before, but it didn’t matter one fucking bit.  He would let Mickey practice on him as much as he wanted.  What a sacrifice to make, right?  As Mickey licked up the underside of his cock and lightly sucked on the head, Ian knew he wouldn’t mind the practice at all.  Holy fuck, not at all.  Just having Mickey’s mouth on his dick did things to him, lack of experience be damned.  

Mickey’s eagerness and enthusiasm made up for any shortcomings in terms of technique, of which there really weren’t many.  Mickey was a natural, and as he bobbed up and down on Ian’s cock, trying to take in as much of it as he could, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to take it all, Ian felt himself getting close to the edge; too close. 

“Fuck, Mickey, that’s so fucking good.  Shit, need to stop or I’m gonna blow.  Need to be inside you,” he said, tugging gently at Mickey’s hair.   

Mickey finally came up for air and crawled back up Ian’s body so they were again face-to-face.  “That was so good.  It was amazing.  You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” Ian said as he gazed into ocean blue eyes.  

Mickey just shook his head, taking a deep inhale and exhale.  He saw emotion flit across his eyes, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “‘m not perfect.  Not even close.  But you…I still can’t fuckin’ believe you’re real.” 

Ian leaned up to capture Mickey’s lips and flipped him onto his back.  After he kicked his own pants the rest of the way off, he checked in with Mickey one more time. “Are you sure?”, he asked, touching the waistband of Mickey’s sweats. 

“Fuck, yes.  Need you in me now.”

That was all Ian needed to hear. He pulled down Mickey’s sweatpants and boxers at once, freeing his cock which already looked painfully hard, and pulled them the rest of the way off.  Mickey was fully naked, spread out in front of him, and fuck, was he beautiful.  

Fuck, this was really happening.  Mickey couldn’t believe it.  Ian was completely naked, hovering over him, and he was just unreal.  He couldn’t believe that he was about to have sex with who Mickey firmly believed was the most gorgeous man on the face of the earth.  

He saw Ian reach into his bedside drawer and pull out a bottle of lube and a condom, and shit, this was real.  Ian asked tentatively, “How do you want to, um…do you want to be like this, or do you wanna turn around?”

“Um, I think…I wanna see you.”

Ian nodded.  “Yeah.  I wanna see you too.”

He saw Ian flip open the lube and pour a generous amount onto his fingers.  “So, um, I’m gonna prep you now, ok?  I’m gonna start with one finger first.”

“Yeah,” Mickey said as he nodded.

He felt Ian’s thumb circle his rim, just getting him used to the feeling of his fingers down there.  Mickey was no stranger to his own fingers in that area, but feeling Ian’s fingers down there was completely different.

He felt the press of one finger against his rim, and then soon felt it breach his entrance.  “Okay?” Ian checked in, and Mickey nodded.  Ian pushed all the way in and then moved out slowly, before pushing in again.  After a few seconds of him moving in and out with one finger, he said, “Gonna add another one, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” Mickey choked out.

He felt Ian inserting two fingers into his hole, moving them in and out and scissoring them open on intermittent strokes.  Mickey couldn’t help the sounds that were escaping from his throat, and when he felt Ian’s fingers brush against his prostate, he cried out, “Fuck!  Oh fuck,” which he couldn’t even bother feeling any embarrassment about.  

“Feel good?” Ian asked gently, continuing his ministrations.

“Fuck, yes,” Mickey said breathlessly.

“I’m going to add one more, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mickey panted.

Ian added a third finger, and after a few more passes, Mickey couldn’t take it anymore.  He needed Ian now.

“Ok, ok, need you.  Need your cock.  I’m ready. Please.” Did he sound like a little bitch, begging for Ian’s cock?  Probably.  Did he give a shit?  Not at all.

“Ok,” Ian said as he rolled on the condom and slicked himself up.  When Ian lined himself up against Mickey’s entrance, he could feel the head of Ian’s cock pressing right up against his rim, and holy fuck, he wanted it. 

Ian looked to Mickey once more for permission, and Mickey nodded. He knew that consent was extremely important to Ian, given what he’d gone through in the past, and he lov— liked Ian even more for it. Shit.

Ian slowly pushed in, and as Ian’s cock entered him, he felt a burn like he’d never felt before.  It hurt, but it felt good at the same time.  When Ian bottomed out, he couldn’t believe how full he felt.  It was incredible. 

“Are you ok?” Ian asked.

“Yeah. Yeah.  Feels really full.  Fuck.” Mickey took deep breaths as he adjusted to the feeling.

“Is it okay if I move? I’m actually a little scared to move, pretty sure I’m going to come in like two seconds.”

Mickey just laughed as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.  “Yeah, you can move, tough guy.”

Ian took his cue and began to thrust, slowly and deliberately, being so gentle and considerate with Mickey.  Fuck, it felt so good.  While Ian moved in and out, his sweaty abs were rubbing against Mickey’s rock hard cock, and the dual sensation was almost too much.  He already felt like he was so close. 

Mickey was making sounds that he was sure he’d never made before, moaning and panting and letting out a litany of “oh fucks” and “fuck yeahs,” over and over.  Ian’s thrusts became faster, and he angled himself so that he was hitting Mickey’s sweet spot perfectly.

“Oh, fuck, oh my god, Ian, feels so good,” Mickey panted out.  

“Are you close?  I’m really fucking close,” Ian said, sweat dripping down his temples.  Mickey really wanted to lick it off.  

“Yeah, fuck.  I’m so fuckin’ close.  Fuck me Ian, harder, please,” Mickey grunted out.

And Ian did.  He fucked him harder and faster, and Mickey felt his orgasm tear through him with little warning as he came between them without so much as a hand on his dick. Ian’s orgasm soon followed, and he felt his body tense as his eyes rolled back and he moaned Mickey’s name.  

Ian collapsed on top of Mickey, and once it started to get a little uncomfortable, Mickey gently tapped his back and kissed his shoulder.  Ian pulled out, threw away the condom, and grabbed a towel to clean Mickey with.  When Ian went to throw the towel in the hamper, Mickey noticed that he stopped in the bathroom to take his meds. He certainly didn’t mind watching Ian’s naked ass walking around the apartment before climbing back into bed with him.  It was a beautiful ass.  He didn’t think he could ever get tired of just looking at Ian, to be honest.

Ian curled his body around Mickey, spooning him from behind and pulling the covers over their naked bodies.  He kissed the back of Mickey’s neck and said, “How was it?”

“It was fuckin’ incredible,” Mickey said with a smile, and soon they were both drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Mickey woke up the next morning with an ache in his ass, but fuck, was it a good kind of ache.  He felt like he was still dreaming.  But he looked down and saw that familiar freckled arm around his waist and felt a warm body pressed against him from the back of his neck all the way to his feet, and he knew that he wasn’t dreaming.  This was real.  He’d had actual sex with Ian last night, and he was waking up in his favorite place—with Ian.  

He turned around so he could look at Ian, and he just stared at his face for a few minutes before he saw Ian’s eyes start to flutter open and a small smile creep onto his face.

“Stop watching me sleep, weirdo,” Ian croaked out teasingly. 

“Don’t wanna stop,” Mickey said as he leaned in and gave Ian a peck on the lips.

“Mmm, you hungry? Wanna take a shower and have breakfast?” Ian said between kisses.

“Fuck yeah, you make some good pancakes.”

Ian chuckled. “Ok, let’s go.” He got out of bed in all of his naked glory, and Mickey just stared at him as he walked towards the bathroom. How could he be expected to look at anything else?

“You comin’?” Ian said over his shoulder.  At that, Mickey threw the covers off of his body and hopped out of bed, running after Ian into the bathroom. 

They spent the next twenty minutes or so scrubbing each other’s bodies, taking the opportunity to feel every part of each other, making out, and giving each other lazy handjobs until they were both coming as the water started to run cold.

There was no hurry this morning.  It was Sunday, neither of them had any prior commitments, and they were content to just spend the morning lazing around together.  

Ian offered Mickey his clothes that he’d worn the first night he stayed over, the night of the benefit, the ones that Ian had washed for him.  Mickey of course still had Ian’s clothes that he’d worn home that morning, and he wasn’t quite ready to admit that he still liked to wear them to bed.  Somehow the clothes gave him comfort, like a piece of Ian was there with him.  Mickey knew that it was the sappiest thing that had ever crossed his mind, so there was no way he was going to say that out loud.

Mickey didn’t want to wear his clothes from that night; they were his “dressy” clothes, and he wanted to be comfy.  Ian of course sensed this without Mickey having to even say anything, and gave Mickey another one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweats.

“All of my clothes are going to end up at your place pretty soon,” Ian teased.

Mickey blushed as he said, “That’s good, then, uh, you’ll have stuff to wear when you’re at my place.”

Ian just nodded and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. 

After eating his body weight in pancakes, Mickey plopped down on the couch and Ian joined him.  They turned on Netflix and picked a movie, but Mickey wasn’t paying any attention as Ian lay his head in Mickey’s lap and Mickey carded his hands through Ian’s hair.  He could tell that there was something Ian wanted to say, he could see the wheels in his head turning.  So he just waited as he continued to run his hands through Ian’s red locks. He loved the way Ian’s hair was when he was fresh out of the shower; no gel or product, so it was curly and soft.

Finally, Ian cleared his throat and said, “So, um, Thanksgiving is in a few days.”

“Yeah,” Mickey said simply.  He couldn’t believe that it had only been a little over a month since Ian made that first call to the crisis center.  He remembered that it was the middle of October, right before the end of the first half of the semester.  It felt like he’d known Ian so much longer than that.  But really, it made sense, because they had talked on the phone so much in the beginning that they already felt like they knew each other so well even when they’d only seen each other a handful of times. Mickey tamped down the anxiety creeping up, reminding him that there was actually a lot about Mickey that Ian still didn’t know. 

Ian continued, “Do you celebrate Thanksgiving, or….?”

Mickey chuckled, “What do you think, Freckles? Holidays weren’t a big priority when I was just trying to survive from one day to the next, or at least trying to extend the time between ass beatings from my dad. Never celebrated Thanksgiving a day in my life.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, makes sense.  Um, I guess I just wanted to talk to you about it because Thanksgiving is kind of one of my….triggers? And the holidays in general I guess, but especially Thanksgiving.”

“Okay,” Mickey said softly, allowing Ian to continue if he had more to say.

“Yeah, so, my mom died around Thanksgiving, so it’s just a hard time.  That was when I had my first manic episode, and it obviously lasted all through the holidays, so…it still triggers me sometimes, especially with the stress of finals coming up too, and…I guess I’m just worried. About having an episode.”

“Hey,” Mickey turned Ian’s head towards him. Ian was still lying in his lap, but he was trying his best to turn his head away and avoid eye contact. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.  You tell me what I need to be on the lookout for and I’ll make sure I’m there to help you no matter what happens. Ok?”

Ian nodded, and Mickey could see tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He continued to rub Ian’s head soothingly. 

Mickey of course knew about bipolar disorder through his coursework; he was studying behavioral health, after all.  But knowing about it through textbooks was not the same as experiencing it firsthand, Mickey knew that.  And witnessing someone he cared for deeply going through it would be completely different. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for it, but he knew that he wasn’t going anywhere and he would do whatever he could to help Ian. 

“So, tell me what I need to look for, ok? I mean I know the basics, but I want to know what it looks like for you.”

Ian honestly couldn’t believe that he’d even brought up this topic of conversation, that he was being so open with Mickey about it.  He had never shared this kind of stuff with anyone before, and it made him realize how much he innately trusted Mickey. 

Before he was able to really even wrap his head around that, he’d gotten out his hypomania checklist.  It was pretty obvious when he was having a downswing, but sometimes the upswings were harder to spot.  A lot of times, it just looked like increased energy, and sometimes Ian was even able to hide it and pass it off as just that. But he wanted Mickey to be able to know the signs, so that they could nip it in the bud if needed.  He really didn’t want to crash and hit a low during the school break.  He wanted to be able to enjoy it with Mickey. 

They went through the checklist together, and Mickey listened with rapt attention, asking questions so he could get as much information as possible to be able to help Ian.  And in that moment, Ian didn’t care how soon it was—he knew with 100% certainty that he was falling in love with Mickey Milkovich. 

*

*

Thanksgiving came and went without incident.  They had spent it together with Mandy at Mickey and Mandy’s apartment, ordering Chinese take-out and playing Scattergories. Ian really didn’t think there could be a better way to spend a holiday. 

Final exams followed just over a week later, and while Ian’s sleep schedule got thrown off due to late night study sessions, he spent most of his study sessions with Mickey, who made sure he took his meds and got to bed at a reasonable time.  Ian didn’t mind climbing into bed with Mickey, so he never protested.  He was also being proactive and regularly checking in with his psychiatrist just in case there were any concerns that arose. 

He felt level, he felt stable, and not like there was a constant itch beneath his skin.  He didn’t know if it was because he had Mickey now, who gave him a sense of stability, and because of that his triggers didn’t affect him in the same way they did before.  He didn’t know, but he hoped that was one of the reasons.

They had made it through final exams, and Mickey couldn’t wait to spend the next few weeks of school break just being with Ian.  He had been watching for any signs that Ian might be hypomanic, like they'd talked about, but he didn’t want to hover and make him feel like he was under a microscope.  To his relief, Ian seemed to be managing just fine, and he was so happy that they’d made it through the first hurdle.  Of course Christmas was around the corner, and he also knew that Ian’s family could be a trigger for him, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.  They hadn’t even talked about plans for Christmas yet.

For now, Mickey was happy to just have this time with Ian and to continue his. . .sexual awakening.  Because, damn, that’s really what it was. Since that first night that Ian had fucked him, they’d been exploring each other’s bodies in any way that they could, and in every possible position they could think of.  Mickey couldn’t get enough.  And holy fuck, was Ian an amazing teacher. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing true pleasure, and he was embracing his sexuality and what he liked.  He liked Ian’s dick in his ass, and he wasn’t going to feel shame about it. Fuck that.  

He’d been practicing and practicing giving Ian blowjobs, and he was determined to take Ian’s huge cock all the way down.  Ian assured him that he’d rarely encountered anyone who was able to, and that he wasn’t expected to be able to deep throat this early in the game, but Mickey only took that as a challenge.  He was pretty sure he was a natural, judging by the speed with which Ian blew his load into Mickey’s mouth every time.  

He’d also discovered riding Ian’s cock to be his favorite sexual position so far.  They’d only done it once, but the way that he was able to maneuver himself to hit that sweet spot continuously and the way he could look down and see Ian falling apart beneath him…fuck, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. 

*

*

The weeks flew by, and soon, Christmas was coming.  Mickey still had to figure out what get Ian for a gift.  He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out and bought a proper gift for someone.  The only person he’d ever cared to give anything to was Mandy, and their idea of a gift exchange was getting booze and maybe some good weed for each other. But what does a person give someone who’s completely flipped their life upside down, who’s changed their life in a way they never thought possible, the person he was falling completely, head-over-heels in love with? He knew it was too soon to say the words out loud yet, but he was absolutely sure of how he felt.  There was no doubt in his mind.  

He knew he had some brainstorming to do, because it needed to be something good.  He knew Ian would appreciate anything he gave him, because he was just that kind of person, but Ian wasn’t just anyone.  He was special—so, so special—and his gift needed to be just as special. 

As the holiday fast approached, Ian had nervously asked Mickey if he would attend Gallagher family Christmas with him.  Mickey of course wasn’t going to say no, because he obviously had fuck all else to do, and of course he wanted to spend it with Ian.  He had no family to speak of, aside from Mandy.  He was pretty sure both of his brothers were locked up, since they were always in and out of the joint, and Mickey had stopped keeping track.  At one point, he actually gave a shit about his brother Iggy and had been adding money to his books when he was on the inside, but now his stupid ass was in and out so much that he couldn’t keep up anymore.  He wished that Iggy could get his shit together, because although he was an idiot, he had a good heart.  His other brother, Colin, on the other hand, was a dickhead whom Mickey couldn’t care less about. 

The only reservation he had about spending a Christmas with Ian’s family was that he didn’t want to leave Mandy by herself.  Ian quickly responded to that worry by saying that of course Mandy was invited too.  Ian and Mandy had become friends—which annoyed the hell out of Mickey sometimes, he couldn’t deny it—so of course that was an easy decision. 

When Mickey told Mandy about the invite, she readily accepted and added flippantly, much to Mickey’s horror, “Pretty sure I made out with Ian’s brother once in high school.  Shouldn’t be awkward, right? That was a long time ago.”

“What the fuck?!” Mickey exclaimed.  “You’re just telling me this now? You hooked up with my boyfriend's brother before and failed to ever mention that?”

“To be honest, I didn’t even remember it until now.  Wasn’t very memorable, if you know what I mean.  I didn’t even make the association until Ian mentioned his brother’s name when we were talking one day, and it literally just hit me why his name sounded familiar. I mean who else is named Lip, right?” Mandy said with a chuckle. 

“Lip Gallagher…” Mickey said the name out loud, realizing that it did sound kind of familiar, but Mickey was barely ever in school, and when he was it was just to sell whatever his dad was having him sell at the moment.  Then he dropped out and then he was in juvie…and the rest is history. 

“Well try not to get into his pants on Christmas, alright? He’s married or has a long-term girlfriend slash baby mama or something, so try not to be a homewrecker.”

“Um, did I not just say that he was extremely unmemorable? Why would I try to get with that again? Don’t worry,” Mandy said with an eye roll.

And with that, Mickey and Mandy Milkovich had plans for Christmas for the first time in…well, ever. 

Chapter Text

When Mickey woke up on the morning of Christmas Eve, he was grumpy as hell.  Ian thought he looked ridiculously adorable when he was grumpy, with his brow furrowed, huffing out little frustrated puffs of air through his nose.  He kind of looked like those grumpy cat memes.  And the fact that Ian thought it was adorable of course just made Mickey even more grumpy.

It was fine though; if there was one thing that Ian knew how to do, it was cheer up his man. He never failed in that department.  As Mickey continued to huff in frustration about having to spend the night at the Gallagher house—-he hadn’t realized that it was going to be an overnight thing, and he wasn’t excited about it to say the least, add that to the fact that Ian was making him wake up extra early to help get everything ready—-Ian shimmied all the way under the covers and down Mickey’s body until he was right where he wanted to be.  He licked a long strip up the underside of Mickey’s cock before taking him all the way into his mouth, and needless to say, Mickey was no longer complaining.

“Fuck, Ian,” he heard above him as he continued his ministrations, and he soon felt fingers tangling in his hair.

Ian could honestly do this all day.  He loved the taste of Mickey, the feel of his perfect cock in his mouth, and especially the sounds it brought out of Mickey.  His boyfriend always carried so much on his shoulders, always carrying the stress of his counseling work and the weight of his past without necessarily realizing how much he was truly helping people. Ian would do anything to take that away, and if a morning blowjob helped with that for the time being, Ian would happily oblige.  

He wanted to taste more.  He moved even lower to lick along Mickey’s perineum and then just a little tease at his hole with his tongue, which caused Mickey to almost jump out of his skin.  

He felt Mickey’s hands grip his hair even tighter as he cried out, “holy shit,” and Ian made a mental note to come back to that later.  He was long overdue to give that glorious ass the attention it deserved.  Truth be told, Ian had never actually rimmed anyone before.  He was never in a real relationship before Mickey, never had that closeness with anyone, so it was something that just never happened.  But with Mickey…god, he couldn’t wait. 

But that would be for another time.  For now, Ian continued to suck the life out of Mickey’s cock until he was crying out, “Fuck, fuck, Ian, gonna come,” and shooting his load into Ian’s mouth.  As always, Ian eagerly swallowed everything that Mickey gave him. 

“Fuck, c’mere,” Mickey said as he pulled Ian up, promptly attacking his mouth with his own.  “What was that for?”

Ian shrugged and gave Mickey another peck to his lips. “Just wanted to.  Plus, you looked like grumpy cat so I thought I would try to turn that frown upside down.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ dork,” Mickey laughed. 

“But I’m your dork,” Ian teased. 

“Yeah, you are,” Mickey replied softly, running his hand through Ian’s hair. 

Just then, they heard a loud, annoying knock on the bedroom door. “Hey, you guys done blowing each other yet? Get up, we need to get going in a couple of hours, we’ve got some Gallaghers to go see,” they heard Mandy’s voice on the other side of the door.

Ian had spent the night at Mickey’s, making sure that he had all of his stuff with him, so that they could just leave from there.  It made the most sense, since Mandy was coming with them. 

“The fuck?! Why are you so excited to go?  Plus it’s only like an hour away on the L, so chill the fuck out!” Mickey yelled from the bed, not even bothering to get up and open the door. “Now go away!”

Ian just giggled as he buried his face into Mickey’s neck.

“Fine, but if you’re not up in twenty minutes I’m coming back!” Mandy said before walking away. 

“Fuck, is she that excited to see your brother or somethin’?” Mickey asked exasperatedly.

Ian just laughed and said, “I think she’s just in the holiday spirit, Mick.  Not everyone is a Grinch like you, ya know.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said with an eye roll and a hint of a smile. 

Of course as soon as Mandy had told Mickey that she’d hooked up with Ian’s brother in high school, he’d told Ian right away.  Ian had just laughed hysterically, much to Mickey’s horror, which had just made Ian laugh even harder.  It’s not as if Ian was surprised.  Lip was a total man-whore in high school, on top of being a complete dick.  Well he still was a dick, but that was beside the point. He just figured it would make Christmas that much more interesting; why not? Any chance he had to make Lip feel awkward and uncomfortable, he would take in a heartbeat. 

After a few minutes, though, Ian and Mickey decided that it was indeed time to get up and shower.  They of course showered together, and Mickey took the opportunity to enthusiastically return the favor that he’d been so generously woken up with by getting onto his knees in the shower and taking Ian’s cock almost all the way down.

Holy hell, was Mickey getting good at this. Though honestly, he’d been good at it from the beginning.  How someone could be so naturally good at sucking cock, he didn’t know, but Mickey was definitely one of those people.  And he was now almost able to take Ian’s entire length.  He’d been determined to do it, and all Ian could do was thank his lucky stars that his boyfriend was such a stubborn and determined motherfucker.

After Ian came so hard he saw stars, Mickey licked his lips and looked up at him with that mischievous gleam in his eye, and fuck, Ian loved him.  He’d known it for a while, and even though neither of them had said the words out loud, Ian knew that Mickey felt the same way. 

They kissed lazily for a couple more minutes as the water washed over them, before it started to run cold and they had to get out. 

Once they were dried off and dressed, they both took their meds. Ian had known that Mickey took medication for his anxiety, but it was only since he started spending more nights at Mickey’s apartment that he actually saw him taking it. 

They made their way to the kitchen for some coffee, only to find Mandy standing there with a knowing smirk.  “That was a long shower,” she said.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Alright, I blew Ian in the shower.  Swallowed him all the way down, sucked his cock until he came in my mouth. That what you wanna hear?”

As Mandy made fake gagging sounds, Ian looked at Mickey absolutely horrified. “Mickey!!” 

“What? The bitch wants to keep making comments, I’ll tell her what she wants to hear.”

Alright, so apparently the grumpy cat was back.  He supposed that a blowjob was only a temporary solution to the problem anyway. 

Mandy just laughed. “I swear to god, Mickey, you are such an asshole.  I don’t even know how Ian puts up with your ass.”

“Well, actually, his ass is one of my favorite things—“ Ian started before he was interrupted. 

“Oh my god, you guys are nauseating. I’m going to go drink my coffee in my bedroom so I don’t vomit, and then you guys better be ready to go in half an hour!” Mandy promptly walked into her room, coffee mug in hand, and slammed the door. 

Once Mandy was in her bedroom, Ian thought it would be a good time to bring up a question that had been on his mind.  “Uh, Mickey, I wanted to talk to you really quick.”

“Course, what is it?” There it was again, that open expression, that softness in his eyes, that made Ian feel like he could tell him anything.  And again, he just thought of how much he loved him. 

“Well, obviously my family doesn’t know how we met.  I just…what do I tell them?”

“Ian, it’s completely up to you what you want to tell them.  I’m not ever going to say anything that you don’t want me to say.  Even if you weren’t my boyfriend, it’s a breach of confidentiality to say anything about people who call the center.  And I would never, ever betray your trust.  Mandy doesn’t even know anything about it, at least nothing that I’ve told her.  So whatever you want to do, I’m behind you. I’ll go along with whatever story you make up, or if you want to tell them the truth, I’m with you on that too.  Ok?” Mickey said as he placed his hand on Ian’s cheek and looked him right in the eyes. 

And god, Ian didn’t think he could’ve loved him more than he already did, but he just kept outdoing himself. 

Ian nodded.  “Ok.  I need to think about it, but thanks for having my back.”

“Always,” Mickey said before giving Ian a peck on the lips.

*

Since they didn’t want to experience any more of Mandy’s wrath, they were indeed ready within half an hour, and when Mandy came out of her room, they were standing by the door waiting with their packed duffle bags on their shoulders.

Mandy simply smirked and said, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

As soon as they stepped off the L, Mickey's anxiety went through the roof.  Just being back on the south side was causing the panic to set in.  Ian immediately sensed this, and he grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You okay?”

“I don’t really know, honestly.  I think I’ll be ok.  It’s just all hitting me at once, ya know? Haven’t been back here in a while and the memories are kind of fucking with me a little bit.”

“Ok, well I’m right here, alright? Just remember that.  And if you feel like you’re not doing okay then just let me know.  Promise?”

“Yeah, ok,” Mickey said as he nodded. 

Ian gave Mickey’s hand another squeeze before letting go, of course knowing where they were.  They were on the south side.  Ian knew better than to walk around holding hands with his boyfriend. 

Ian turned to Mandy, also wanting to check in with her.  He knew what she’d been through, maybe not all of it, but Mickey had alluded to enough that he almost didn’t think he wanted to know more. “Mandy, are you okay?”

She took a deep breath and answered, “Yeah, I think so.  I’m good.  Let’s do this.”

As they approached the Gallagher house, Mickey’s heart gradually started beating faster and faster, and he could not believe how close they lived to his old house.  Ian squeezed his arm gently, and he let the touch ground him. 

Ian opened the door without knocking, and was instantly attacked by a little girl, who Mickey assumed was his three year old niece, Franny.

“Uncle Ian!” she shouted gleefully as Ian swooped her up into his arms.

“Franny, I missed you,” Ian said. Before he knew it, a whole gaggle of Gallaghers was upon them.  He tried to put faces to the names, having heard Ian talk about all of his siblings numerous times.  He saw the red headed young woman he assumed was Debbie, the wannabe tough guy must have been Carl, and of course Liam.  He’d heard the story of how, amazingly, he was actually biologically Frank and Monica’s child.  

They all hugged Ian, and then he proudly said, “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Mickey, and his sister Mandy.” They all greeted Mickey and Mandy, instantly making them feel at home.

Mickey then noticed a slightly familiar face walk into the room, holding a baby.  This must be Lip, he thought.  He didn’t know him, but his face looked familiar, and he assumed that he’d probably sold him weed a couple of times back in the day. 

Of course, Lip immediately stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on Mandy, not even bothering to say hello to his brother. “Mandy Milkovich?!”

“Hey, Lip. Cute baby,” Mandy said casually. 

Lip just stared in shock, clearly having had no idea that she was coming or that Ian even knew her.  Mickey couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on his face, and he looked over at Ian to see that he was clearly enjoying it as well. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Lip stuttered out.

Ian reached over and took baby Freddie from his arms, starting to get worried that Lip might drop him out of pure shock.

“I invited her, dumbass.  Mandy is my friend and also happens to be my boyfriend’s sister. Lip, this is my boyfriend Mickey.”

“Wait, Mickey Milkovich? Mickey Milkovich is your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, do I know you or somethin’?” Mickey asked, now starting to get annoyed. 

“Uh, not really I guess, just ya know, word of mouth.  I bought weed from you a few times.”

“Yeah, well I sold weed to a lot of people, so…”

Suddenly, Lip started laughing hysterically. “Who would’ve thought, Terry Milkovich, the town fag-basher, would have a son who likes to take it up the ass.  Karma, right?”

At that, Mickey said to Ian, “I need a minute, ok?” and stepped outside onto the front porch. 

“I’ll go check on him,” Mandy said as she followed him out the door. 

Ian was livid. He placed Freddie down in his playpen before rounding on Lip. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Lip? Do you have any filter at all in that fucking brain of yours?”

Lip put up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, I really wasn’t trying to be a dick. I just thought it was funny, that’s all.  It was nothing against him, just his dad.”

“Yeah, well you are a dick. You think he wants to think about his dad right now? You ever think what it might’ve been like for him growing up with Terry Milkovich as a father, especially being gay? Pretty sure he doesn’t think it’s funny, asshole.”

“I guess I’m just surprised is all.  You really never knew Mickey back in the day? He was a thug.  Just doesn’t really seem like he’d be your type.”

“No, I didn’t know him, and what exactly is my type, Lip? As if you’d even know! Do you really wanna know how we met?”

Ian didn’t even wait for an answer. “Remember when I was having a downswing and you came to take me to see the doctor, about two and half months ago?”

Lip nodded.

“Remember I told you how I called the campus crisis support line because I was thinking of hurting myself? Well Mickey was the one who answered.  He’s studying to be a behavioral counselor and he was working at the crisis center.  He fucking saved my life, Lip.  Do you understand that? He’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I’ll be damned if you and your big mouth are going to drive him away.”

Lip just gaped at Ian in shock. “I-I had no idea, Ian.  I just remember him from back in the day—”

“Well, people change, Lip.  I don’t recall you being a fine and upstanding citizen in high school either, and god knows I wasn’t.  I have a feeling you wouldn’t want people judging you based on how you were as a teenager.”

“You’ve got a point there.  I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t realize how deep in this you were.  Sounds like you really care for the guy.”

“Yeah, I fucking do, Lip.  I love him.  So stop acting like an asshole, alright? Hey, where the fuck is Tami, anyway?”

“She’s at her parents’ house.  We’re meeting her over there later.”

“No wonder you’re acting like such a dick, she’s the only one who can keep you in line.”

“Fuck off,” Lip laughed.

“I’m going to go check on Mickey,” Ian said as he turned around and opened the front door. 

Once he was outside, he saw Mickey and Mandy sitting next to each other on the porch steps sharing a cigarette.

“Hey,” Ian said.  Mandy, taking that as her cue, said, “It’s fucking freezing out here. I'm gonna go inside and see if there’s any booze,” before standing up and walking back into the house.

Ian sat down on the top porch step next to Mickey, holding his hand out for the cigarette.  Mickey handed it to him, blowing smoke out through his nose.

“You okay?” Ian said after taking a drag. “I’m sorry about Lip.  He’s just an asshole.  I told him that he was a complete dick and that he had no right to say that shit.  I also told him how we met.  How you saved me.  And that I care about you.  A lot.”

Mickey just looked down at the ground and said, “You didn’t have to do that, ya know? It’s true what he said.  Terry was a fag-basher, and trust me, I wasn’t exempt from that.  Imagine his reaction when he found out I was a fag.  And I’m sure Lip remembers how I was back then. I can’t blame him, really.  There's just a lot that even you don’t know.”

“Mickey, there’s nothing you could tell me about your past that would change how I feel about you, ok? And fuck anybody who tries to make you feel bad about it, Lip included.  I have your back 100%, always, ok?”

Mickey just nodded and finished his cigarette. 

Dinner was uneventful. But it was definitely fucking loud.  The food was pretty good, at least.  Ian’s sister Fiona, who had apparently moved out of state recently, was back and busy in the kitchen when they’d first arrived.  She sure could cook, that was for sure.  But man, did these fuckers like to talk.  Mickey wasn’t sure how anyone could follow a conversation, as there were so many of them going on at once. 

Mickey had been drinking quite a few beers just to get through it, and he was starting to get a good buzz going.  When he was buzzed, he got more affectionate.  They were sitting on the couch watching Home Alone with the rest of the Gallaghers, minus Lip, who had gone to Tami’s parents’ house—-which Mickey wasn’t sad about.  He started to lean his head on Ian’s shoulder, and then he draped one of his legs over Ian’s.  Ian turned to kiss his temple, and Mickey buried his face in his neck and started kissing it. 

“You guys are so cute,” he heard Debbie say, to which Mandy replied, “Yeah, not so cute when you have to be around it all the time.  Once you’ve heard their sex noises, it’s really not cute anymore.”

Mickey continued to suck on Ian’s neck as he reached his hand back and gave Mandy the finger. 

“Hey,” Ian whispered in his ear, “You wanna go to bed?”

Mickey nodded with his head still buried in Ian’s neck, having produced a hickey that he was quite proud of. 

“K, let’s go,” Ian said as he stood up and pulled Mickey up as well.  

As they walked up the stairs, Mandy said, “Ugh, I don’t have to share a room with you guys, do I?”

Ian laughed.  “Nope, you can room with Fiona or with Debs and Franny, your choice, and Liam’s going to share Carl’s man cave for tonight. We’re going to take my old room.”

They continued up the stairs and when they arrived in Ian’s old bedroom, one that he used to share with all of his brothers, he took a moment to think about how far he’d come.  Now he was here with a man he deeply cared about, a man who he was so in love with. 

Mickey collapsed onto the bed, his buzz having turned to full on drunkenness, and Ian thought Mickey was really cute when he was drunk. He loved how touchy-feely he got, and how his inhibitions were lowered.  Mickey was still hesitant to even hold his hand in public, so seeing him so open with his affections in front of his family warmed him from the inside out.  He helped Mickey out of his clothes until he was down to just his boxers, before stripping down to his boxers himself and climbing into bed, wrapping his whole body around Mickey.

“Merry Christmas, Mick,” he whispered in Mickey’s ear, and was met with the sounds of soft snores coming from his beautiful boyfriend. 

Chapter Text

Ian blinked awake to the familiar surroundings of his childhood bedroom.  There was one difference, though.  His arms were wrapped around his snoring boyfriend, who looked absolutely beautiful bathed in the morning sunlight coming through the blinds.  

He heard shouts from outside the door, the shrieks of an excited Franny on Christmas morning.  Liam was still young enough to be excited for Christmas, but was past the point of believing in Santa breaking and entering to deliver presents in the middle of the night.  Franny, however, was all in. It kind of made Ian miss that innocence of childhood and made him think about maybe having his own kids one day.  And when the image of his future happy family crossed his mind, the person standing next to him was Mickey.

Of course his grumpy cat chose that exact moment to groan and pry his eyes open, mumbling, “The fuck is all that noise?”  He knew that the grumpy would be dialed up by several degrees, because he was sure that Mickey was hungover.

“Morning, grumpy.  Merry Christmas,” Ian said as he kissed Mickey’s forehead. “There’s some painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand.  I figured you’d be hungover.  You were pretty gone last night.”

“Fuck, sorry,” Mickey said as he rubbed his hands over his face.

“It’s okay, you’re cute when you’re drunk.”

“Fuck you, ‘m not cute,” Mickey grunted as he reached for the pain pills and water on the nightstand.  After swallowing them down, Mickey looked at Ian and his eyes dropped to his neck. “Did I give you that hickey?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “No, my other boyfriend did.  You know, the other guy I’m seeing on the side? Of course you did, dumbass.  In fact, you gave it to me on the couch when we were watching Home Alone, right in front of everyone.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey said, and Ian could tell he was embarrassed.

“Hey, stop.  No one here gives a shit, ok?  And I, for one, really enjoyed it,” Ian said with a smile. 

Mickey huffed out a little laugh, and Ian considered that a victory.

“Come on, let’s get up and go downstairs before Franny bangs down the door.”

Mickey begrudgingly acquiesced, throwing some clothes on and brushing his teeth before following Ian downstairs. 

It was the usual Gallagher madness, and Ian couldn’t deny that he’d missed it.  As much as his family annoyed the hell out of him, he loved them.  And right now, in this moment, he was happy.  Franny was tearing into every present and screaming with joy as she got everything she wanted.  Lip had arrived, this time with Tami, and little Fred was crawling all over the place, putting anything and everything that he could get his hands on into his mouth.  

Franny had taken a liking to Mandy, who was currently indulging her in playing beauty salon with the pretend make-up kit she’d just opened up. Liam was preoccupied with the high-powered microscope that they’d all pitched in to get him.  Freddie was chewing on some new teethers that he’d just gotten.  And Ian couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mickey, who was watching the scene with a smile on his face.  

When Mickey turned to Ian with a smile and interlaced their fingers together, Ian felt the butterflies in his stomach, the same ones he got pretty much every time he looked at Mickey, every time he touched him.  He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of it.

This wasn’t so bad after all.  Mickey ended up kind of enjoying himself when all was said and done.  And watching the joy on Ian’s face made everything worth it.  Lip was a dick and probably always would be, but he would grin and bear it for Ian’s sake.  He wracked his brain, trying to figure out if there was anything that he wouldn’t do for this man.  And he couldn’t think of a damn thing. 

After the gifts were opened and the kids were all occupied with their new treasures, Ian leaned into Mickey and whispered, “Come upstairs with me.  Wanna give you your present.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him and Ian responded, “Not that, but you’re definitely going to get that later,” with a wink. 

Mickey rolled his eyes and followed him upstairs.  Before Ian could start, though, Mickey said, “I, uh, wanna give you yours first.” He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a wrapped box. They both sat down on the bed, and Mickey handed the box to Ian.

He looked at Mickey with a smile as he started to unwrap the box, and when he opened it, he saw that there were a few different things inside.  The first thing he pulled out was Mickey’s Depeche Mode t-shirt.

“Is this your shirt?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, I know you like it and I figured I have a bunch of your clothes at my place, so you should have somethin’ of mine.”

Ian smiled and put the shirt to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, smells like you.” 

“Weirdo,” Mickey said as he huffed out a laugh.

Ian put the shirt aside and reached into the box to pull out the next item, which was a phone charger.  Ian could see that with the shirt and now with this, he was giving little callbacks to some of their first phone conversations.  Sentimental fucker. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ian said, as Mickey laughed.

“Coulda saved us a lot of trouble if you’d’ve just charged your damn phone.”

“Very true,” Ian laughed. He then reached back into the box and pulled out a framed picture.  It was a selfie that Ian had taken of them one morning when they were just lounging in bed.  They both looked so relaxed, so happy.  Mickey had immediately asked Ian to send him the picture, and apparently he’d printed it out and framed it. 

“Mickey,” Ian said, eyes now starting to well up with tears. 

“There’s more,” Mickey said as he gestured towards the box. 

Ian reached in and pulled out a beautiful, leather-bound journal.  It had Ian’s name inscribed on the front, and as he turned it around, he saw an entire poem inscribed on the back cover.  The poem was “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley. His eyes scanned the words,

Out of the night that covers me

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

………

Ian felt a single tear roll down his cheek as he continued reading until the end,

……….

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate

I am the captain of my soul.

Ian couldn’t think of any words to say.  He just stared at the words inscribed into the distressed, tan leather as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Mickey cleared his throat and said, “You said once that sometimes writing things down clears your mind, kind of like how I like to draw when I have a lot of stuff going through my head.  I thought maybe you’d wanna start journaling or something, seemed like something you might wanna do. And the poem, it’s about strength and courage and you’re one of the strongest people I know, so--"

Mickey was cut off by the press of Ian’s lips against his.  “I love it,” he said, resting his forehead against Mickey’s. 

Mickey pulled back, and Ian could see that Mickey’s eyes were a bit shiny as well.  He cleared his throat and said, “Um, if you open the journal, there’s one more thing in there.”

Ian opened it and saw a key taped to the inside of the cover. “Mickey, is this…?”

“It’s a key to my apartment.  Don’t worry, I asked Mandy first and she was fine with it. I just figured that you’re there a lot anyway, and I want you to come over as much as you want, whenever you want.”

Ian kissed Mickey again.  “Thank you,” he whispered shakily. 

“Fuck, hopefully my gift measures up,” Ian said with a chuckle as he handed Mickey a box, one that was much smaller than the one Mickey had given to Ian.

Mickey unwrapped the box and opened it to reveal a braided leather bracelet with a black steel clasp.  On the clasp was a simple engraving that read:

10.15 ❤️

Mickey knew exactly what that date was. October 15th. It was the day that Ian had first called the crisis line and Mickey answered.  He blinked and felt two tears run down his cheeks.

“It’s the date that you saved me.  The day that my life completely changed,” Ian said in almost a whisper. 

Mickey swallowed thickly and said, “Ian….  He didn’t know what else to say and his vision was completely blurred with tears.  

“There’s more,” Ian said.  “Look in the box.”

“Fuck, really?” Mickey said, laughing through his tears.  He didn’t know if he could take any more emotional shit, to be honest.

But he went ahead and looked into the box, where he saw a single key lying there. “Looks like we had the same idea,” Ian laughed. “It’s a key to my apartment.”

Mickey just nodded, and then leaned in to kiss Ian.  

They rested their foreheads together, just looking at each other. 

Mickey wanted to say it so badly.  He wanted to say that he was so fucking in love with Ian that he didn’t even know it was possible.  That he couldn’t believe Ian thought he saved him, when Mickey felt like it was the other way around.  That he couldn’t ever imagine being without him.  

“Ian, I…” Mickey said, but he couldn’t finish.  He couldn’t let himself go there, because he was so afraid that this relationship had a shelf life.  Once Ian found out the truth about Mickey’s past, he wouldn’t want anything to do with him, and it was going to hurt so much that Mickey didn’t even want to think about it. 

But Ian knew.  He knew how he felt.  “I know, Mickey.  Me too,” he said as he leaned back in, and Mickey kissed him with everything he had, hoping to convey everything that he couldn’t say with words.  

Chapter Text

The weeks between Christmas and the start of the semester passed in a blur of sex, cuddles, kisses, and really just happiness.  There weren’t many times in his life that he could really say this, but Ian was truly happy.  And he knew exactly why.  He was with the man he loved, who he knew loved him back, even though they hadn’t said the words yet.  Ian wasn’t really sure what was holding him back, but he assumed it was the same thing that was probably holding Mickey back as well: fear.  Neither of them had experienced anything like this before, and given both of their pasts, it was still hard to accept completely. But he knew they’d get there.

They’d spent New Year’s Eve cuddled up on Ian’s couch.  Mandy had gone to a party, and Ian and Mickey were perfectly content to just spend a quiet evening together.  Neither of them had ever had anyone special to kiss at midnight when the new year rang in, and they were both happy that their first new year’s kiss was with each other. 

It was only about a week and a half after New Year’s Day that the spring semester at school was starting.  Ian had a full load of new classes, and Mickey was continuing with his field work and the two classes he had left to complete his degree requirements.  This would be Mickey’s last college semester, and he was on track to graduate in May.  Mickey had asked his fieldwork coordinator if he could continue at the youth center throughout the semester, since he felt like he’d just started to get to know the kids and actually make a difference.  Half of a semester wasn’t nearly enough time to really do much of anything substantial, and luckily, his coordinator agreed with him. Zach was more than happy to have Mickey back as well.  

It was a bit of an adjustment period starting the new semester.  Ian and Mickey had gotten so used to spending all of their time together, and basically seeing each other every single day over the break, that it was hard to go back to their busy college lives. Last semester, they’d usually spent Friday and Saturday nights together, and every now and then they would see each other on weekdays.  There were also, of course, Mickey and Mandy’s visits to the café, which gave Mickey another excuse to be able to see Ian.  And it seemed like they might have to go back to that schedule now that school was back in full swing.

Ian was still working at the café, and he was still picking up some escort gigs here and there.  He had become extremely particular about which ones he would take, only accepting jobs with known and familiar clients like Richard.  He knew that it still bothered Mickey, although Mickey would never say anything, especially after that first fight they’d had.  And truthfully, Ian really didn’t like it anymore either.  He would much rather be spending an evening with Mickey if he had the time, not with some guy paying him to be there.  For the time being, though, he kept doing it.  

The one difference between this semester and the previous one was that Ian and Mickey now had keys to each other’s apartments.  This meant that they were able to spend more nights together during the week. If Ian had a late shift at the café, Mickey would sometimes pick up food and wait at his apartment for him to get home, and they would spend the night together.  Sometimes Ian would spend the night at Mickey’s, so that if Mickey had an early class the next morning, Ian wouldn’t have to leave right away; he could take his time and just lock the door on the way out.  

So things were good. Until they weren’t.

It was a few weeks into the semester that Ian noticed Mickey’s nightmares becoming more frequent.  He had witnessed them only a couple of times when they’d spent the night together, and Mickey never wanted to talk about them afterwards. Ian had just held Mickey until he fell back asleep, and that was that. Now, they seemed to be happening every time they were together.  And every time he asked him about it, Mickey immediately shut him down and didn’t want to talk about it.  Ian was no stranger to past demons coming back to haunt him, and he wished that Mickey would let him in. But all he could do was be there to comfort him in those moments.  If Mickey didn’t want to talk about it, Ian couldn’t force him to.

“C’mon, Mickey. Let’s take a little walk.”

There was no way that Mickey could say no.  Terry had his gun with him, and he was holding his collapsible baton.  He figured they must be going someplace where the baseball bat would be too obvious. Mickey had been walking on eggshells around Terry ever since he found out about him getting blown by that kid at school and had beaten the ever-loving shit out of him.  He silently nodded and headed out the door.

They ended up in Boystown, and Mickey suddenly felt nauseous. He knew what was happening. Terry spotted some guy coming out of one of the clubs, the White Swallow.  He was wearing these tiny, black, sparkly shorts and a sheer mesh tank top adorned with sparkly, pink hearts. It was obvious that he worked there.  It was Valentine’s Day, so they probably had some event happening at the club or something.

“That’s the one,” Terry said as he gestured towards the guy with his baton. “Look at that fuckin’ fudge-packin’ twink. Take note, Mickey, this is what happens to fags. Next time you wanna get your dick sucked by some faggot, remember this.”

Mickey tried to run away, but he heard the familiar click of a gun’s safety being released.  He turned around and Terry had the gun pointed right at him. “You’re not going anywhere, fuckin’ pillow-biter. You’re a fuckin’ embarrassment.  I’m gonna teach you a lesson, and you’re gonna help, got it?”

There was nothing Mickey could say.  Terry shoved the gun right into Mickey’s side, pushing him into the alleyway to follow the guy who’d walked out of the club.  

Mickey woke up in a cold sweat, shooting up into a sitting position on the bed, his cheeks wet with tears.  He couldn’t fucking breathe.  He clutched his chest as he tried and tried unsuccessfully to get air into his lungs.   

Ian stirred awake next to him, instantly realizing that Mickey had woken up from a nightmare.  He sat up next to Mickey and took his hand.  Bringing Mickey’s hand to his chest, he said, “Mick, breathe with me, ok? You’re safe, I’m right here with you.  Try to match my breathing.  In, one, two, three, four; out, one, two, three, four.”

They did this a few more times before Mickey’s breathing was finally under control.  Ian wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his chest.  Mickey let the rise and fall of Ian’s breathing comfort him as he lay his head on his chest.  

He felt Ian kiss the top of his head as he asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Mickey just shook his head.  He really didn’t want to talk about it.  Not only that, he couldn’t talk about it.  Ian would leave him if he knew the truth.  He kept thinking that maybe it would just be best to save them both the heartache and let Ian go.  What was he even doing?  He felt like he was just postponing the inevitable, making them both fall deeper in love so that it would hurt even more when it eventually ended.  Maybe he should just stop it now, before it would become that much harder.

But as he lay there with Ian, feeling his heart beating in his chest, feeling his warmth and the love emanating from him, he thought, just like he’d thought so many times before, how can I possibly let this go?

It was Valentine’s Day.  Ian had felt a distance between him and Mickey ever since his nightmares started to become more frequent.  Mickey hadn’t used his key to Ian’s apartment since that night that he’d had a nightmare so bad it resulted in a panic attack. He hadn’t spent the night at Ian’s apartment since.  Ian had spent the night at Mickey’s a few times since, but something felt different.  Things weren’t strained per say, but it just felt as if Mickey was more closed off.

They hadn’t discussed Valentine’s Day, with Ian assuming that it really wasn’t Mickey’s thing–a bit too sappy and sentimental for his tastes; or, at least that’s what he’d have everyone think.  He knew firsthand that Mickey could indeed be very sentimental when he wanted to be. But Ian didn’t push it.  If Mickey wasn’t into Valentine’s Day, then he wasn’t going to plan some overly romantic date for them.  But a little token of his affections wouldn’t hurt. He thought maybe Valentine’s Day would be a perfect day for him to finally tell Mickey that he loved him, but he wasn’t so sure, given how different Mickey had been lately.  

Ian figured he’d show up to Mickey’s with a little surprise. It was nothing big, just a little something that he thought Mickey might think was funny and endearing. He’d found a stuffed, red bear that he hoped would remind him of his favorite redhead, along with a six pack of Mickey’s favorite beer, and he headed to Mickey’s apartment.  

Mickey woke up with a pounding headache.  He’d woken up in a cold sweat at least five times throughout the night, so he basically slept like shit. Ian hadn’t been there to comfort him after his nightmares, since it was Thursday and they’d both had early classes the next morning.  Mickey would of course be skipping his morning class now, because it looked like he’d already slept through most of it. And thankfully he wasn’t scheduled to work at the youth center today. He rubbed his eyes, realizing what day it was.  Fuck. No wonder he couldn’t sleep.  The nightmares always hit the worst around this time every year. 

And it was like the universe’s biggest joke, wasn’t it?  He had someone who he was fucking head over heels in love with on Valentine’s Day, but all he could associate that god-forsaken holiday with was… that night. Not flowers, chocolates, romance, none of that shit.  All he could see was the fear in that man’s eyes as he realized what was about to happen.  

He knew that Ian probably wanted to do some sappy, romantic shit, and god, he loved him for it.  But Mickey was realizing more and more every day that he would never be what Ian needed.  Ian would never want to be with someone who had done something so horrible. Despite being the only one to really ever break Mickey open and see his whole self, he really didn’t actually know Mickey completely, did he?

He was able to drag himself out of bed long enough to get some coffee, and of course Mandy was on him right away.  She knew exactly what day this was to Mickey. 

“Hey.  You okay?” Mandy asked.

“Fine,” Mickey grumbled as he walked back to his bedroom.

“You know that Ian’s probably going to get you something for Valentine’s Day, right?  Did you get him anything?”

“You should know better than anyone that I don’t fuckin’ celebrate Valentine’s Day, Mandy,” Mickey said as he slammed the bedroom door behind him. 

It was only a few minutes before Mickey heard the front door open and a familiar voice talking to Mandy.  Shit.   

Before long, his bedroom door opened, and Ian walked in.  Mickey’s eyes filled with fresh tears as he saw Ian’s concerned face.  He was holding a red bear and a six-pack of Mickey’s favorite beer.  Fuck, he loved him so much.  How was he going to do this?

“Hey.  Mandy said you weren’t feeling so great.  Did you miss your class this morning?  I figured I’d come by right after my class, didn’t know if you’d be here yet.”

Mickey shook his head. “No, I didn’t go.  Don’t feel good.” He wasn’t able to meet Ian’s eyes for some reason.

Ian placed the bear and the six-pack on the nightstand as he sat on the edge of the bed next to Mickey and felt his forehead.

“You don’t feel warm, so no fever.  You want me to get you anything to eat?”

“No,” Mickey said. “I just…wanna be alone right now, ok?”

Mickey made the devastating mistake of looking at Ian in that moment, and the hurt in his eyes was almost more than he could take.

“Oh, ok,” Ian said, looking down.

Mickey knew it was now or never.  If he looked at Ian anymore he would lose his nerve.

“Ian, I…I’m not good for you.  You don’t know me.  I’m not a good person, ok?  You deserve so much better.  I can’t do this anymore.”

Ian drew back in shock, looking as if he’d just been slapped. “What?  Are you fucking serious right now?”

Mickey just nodded, still lying in his bed, his body now turned away from Ian.  He couldn’t look at him. 

“What the fuck, Mickey?  Why don’t you talk to me?  Whatever it is, you can tell me!  I’ve told you so many times, nothing you could tell me would change my feelings towards you.  Why don’t you understand that?”

Mickey didn’t say anything, just stared straight ahead, willing his tears to stay in his eyes and not fall. 

“You know what?  Fuck you, Mickey,” Ian said as he stood from the bed.  “Fuck you for making me fall in love with you and then pushing me away.  Fuck you.”  With that, Ian walked out the door, and he heard the apartment door slam seconds after.

Once Ian was gone, Mickey took the red teddy bear from the nightstand and buried his face in it, now allowing the tears to fall as sobs wracked his body.  

Chapter Text

Ian somehow managed to hold back his tears until he was out of Mickey’s apartment. As he’d walked out of Mickey’s bedroom, he could see Mandy out of the corner of his eye standing in the kitchen looking concerned.  But he couldn’t bring himself to look at her or talk to her; he just needed to get the hell out of there.  As soon as he stepped outside, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.  He walked across the street to his apartment building, angrily swiping at his face to wipe away the tears. He was so fucking angry.  Angry at Mickey, and angry at himself for letting himself fall so hard.  It always ended like this; Ian shouldn’t have been surprised.  He couldn’t believe that he’d told Mickey he was in love with him, that this was the way it happened.  He was such an idiot. 

Mickey didn’t know how much time had passed as he held that fucking red bear and sobbed his eyes out.  Once his nose was thoroughly clogged, his throat was scratchy, and his eyes were burning, he took some deep breaths hoping that would calm him, but it didn’t work. He honestly didn’t think he’d ever be the same again.  If he thought he was broken before Ian had put all of his pieces back together, now he was completely shattered.  There was no coming back from this.  The shattered pieces were way too small and jagged to ever fit together again.  

And, fuck, Ian had told him he was in love with him.  They hadn’t said it before, and hearing those words had made his heart crack open. 

When he heard a knock on the door, he knew it couldn’t be Ian.  He almost wished it would be.  But he knew it wasn’t.  

“Mickey, open the fucking door!” he heard Mandy shout. 

“It’s fuckin’ unlocked,” he answered weakly.

Mandy burst through the door like a hurricane, shouting, “What the fuck did you do, Mickey?  What did you do? Why was Ian storming out of the apartment on the verge of tears?  If you fucked this up, Mickey, you are a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.”

“Fuck off.  It’s none of your business,” Mickey said, but there was no heat behind it, only resignation.

“Fuck you, it’s none of my business. Ian is my friend and you’re my brother.  If you pushed him away because of this bullshit day and what happened, then I don’t even know what to say.  I’ve told you that Ian would understand if you would just tell him. Instead, you decided to keep it all in and then break his heart for no reason.  I seriously can’t with you.”

Mickey took a deep, shaky breath before saying so softly it was almost a whisper, “I’m not good enough for him.  He won’t forgive me when he finds out what I did.  I let this go too far, that was my fault.”

Mandy just looked at him with bewilderment and came over to sit on the edge of Mickey’s bed.

“Mick, you are giving Ian zero credit.  Is that really what you think of him?  You think he’s some asshole who will drop you like a bad habit over something from your past, something that you didn’t have control over?  Please use your brain for once.  Is that really something you think Ian would do?”

Mickey thought about everything Ian had shared with him, so openly, not afraid of judgment.  And he could’ve been afraid, it would’ve made sense.  But he trusted Mickey enough to know that he could tell him anything.  He thought back to the night of the charity event at the youth center, when Ian had told him about working for the escort agency.  He’d told Mickey that he was afraid to tell him for fear of Mickey seeing him differently or judging him.  Mickey had assured him that night that nothing Ian could ever tell him would change how he saw him.  He told him that he would never judge him.  And Ian had trusted him enough to share all of the dark pieces of his past after that.  So what made him think that Ian wouldn’t extend that same lack of judgment to Mickey?

Maybe Mandy was right.  Maybe he really had fucked up.  Actually, no…there was no maybe about it.  He had definitely, 100%, no questions asked, fucked all the way up. Fuck, what was he going to do now?

Mandy, as if reading his mind, told him exactly what he needed to do. “You’re going to call him, grovel, kiss some redheaded ass, whatever you need to do to fix this.  And then you need to tell him the fucking truth.  Ok?”

Mickey just nodded.  She made it sound so easy.  But would Ian actually forgive him?  And would he see him the same way once he knew the truth?  He knew there was no other way to find out than to tell him, and he supposed then he would have his answer. 

Mickey knew that Ian probably wouldn’t answer the phone if he called, and so he was really thankful in that moment for the fact that he had a key to his apartment. He was going to go over to Ian’s place and talk to him.  He was going to make it right.

Ian was drowning his sorrows in some Real Housewives reality TV drama when he heard a soft knock at the door.  He wasn’t going to answer, not in the mood to talk to anyone. Seconds later, he heard the turning of the key in the latch, and the door slowly opened.  He turned to see Mickey standing sheepishly by the door.  

“What do you want, Mickey?” Ian said, his voice sounding much raspier than he would’ve liked.   It seemed that crying for an hour straight would have that effect.  

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Mickey said as he closed the door and approached Ian on the couch.  He sat down on the edge of the couch and said, “I’m so fucking sorry,” his voice shaking uncontrollably.  

Ian was still pissed, but fucking hell, he loved this man so much that it was hard to stay mad at him. 

“Mickey, what happened? I need you to be honest with me, ok?”

“There’s just something that happened in my past, something that I did.  Once I tell you, you might not feel the same way about me.”  Mickey ran his fingers along the braided bracelet that Ian had given him for Christmas.  Ian noticed that Mickey often did this when his anxiety was ramping up to help himself stay grounded.

“Do you remember what you told me the night of the charity benefit? When I apologized for not telling you about the escorting?” Mickey nodded, because of course he remembered.  He’d been thinking about it only minutes ago.  “You told me that nothing I could tell you would make you think any less of me.  And the same goes for me, ok?  We all have shit in our pasts, right?  I told you about all of my shit.  But you know what?  Our pasts don’t define us. And your past won’t change how much…how much I love you.”

“Fuck,” Mickey said on an exhale, his voice trembling.  “I love you too.  I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Ian couldn’t hear those words from Mickey and not touch him.  He reached out and placed his hand on the side of Mickey’s face and swiped an errant tear away with his thumb.  Then he took his hand and intertwined their fingers.  Now there was nothing to do but wait until Mickey was ready.

Mickey sniffled and cleared his throat.  Both of them sounded like shit from crying so much.

“So, um, the reason that this all happened today was because it was Valentine’s Day.  The thing that I did.  Um, because of my dad.  So every year on Valentine’s Day, I think of it and can’t get it out of my head.”

“Mickey, what happened?”

“So you know that my dad was obviously a racist, homophobic prick who abused us every day of our lives.  I told you how he beat the shit out of me for being gay.  But I didn’t really tell you how it happened.”

Ian just squeezed Mickey’s hand and waited.

“To this day I’m not really sure how he found out, but this guy at school used to blow me as payment for weed.  Um, under the bleachers.  Somehow Terry found out and just beat the absolute shit out of me.  Like, really bad.  Broken ribs, concussion, black eyes, huge gash above my eyebrow, I mean fucking bad.  Could barely move for at least two weeks.”

“Mick,” Ian breathed out. 

Mickey just nodded. “But, uh, that wasn’t the end of it.  Not by a long shot.  Terry didn’t think he’d taught me enough of a lesson, so um….” Mickey took a trembling breath in and let it out. He swallowed thickly, clearly trying to hold back tears.  “He, uh, told me he was going to teach me a lesson about what happens to fags.  And I was going to help.”

Ian started to feel sick to his stomach, as he sensed where this was going.  

“He had a gun, and he forced me to go to Boystown.  I had to follow him, I had no choice.  He spotted some guy coming out of the White Swallow, I think he must’ve worked there because he was wearing the outfit and everything, and made me go with him to follow the guy into an alleyway.  As soon as I figured out what was happening, I tried to run away, but Terry released the safety on his gun and dug it into my side.  He shoved me into the alleyway and got the guy from behind.  I thought he was just going to make me watch, but then he made me help.  He told me he was going to put a bullet through my brain if I didn’t.” Mickey was now sobbing uncontrollably.

Ian was in shock.  His mind was reeling.  He couldn’t fucking believe it.  Valentine’s Day, the White Swallow.  He remembered it like it was yesterday.

Ian pulled his hand away from Mickey’s.  He needed a minute.  Mickey just looked at Ian defeatedly and then down at the floor as his knee bounced up and down rapidly.  He could see the telltale signs of Mickey’s anxiety ramping up.  But he needed to calm himself down first.

Ian knew the guy that Mickey was talking about.  It was his co-worker, Aaron.  They weren’t good friends or anything, but they were acquaintances.  He remembered finding Aaron after it happened.  Ian was the one who’d called 911.  He’d never forget that it was Valentine’s Day because of the irony that had struck him—that it was a holiday celebrating love, but Aaron had been beaten within an inch of his life because of who he loved.  

The silence soon became uncomfortable, and Mickey decided to break it. “Um, anyway, you knew that I was in juvie, right? Well I was in juvie a couple of other times too, but the time I was in the longest. That was why.  Got nine months, but they knew that uh Terry was the mastermind and he was on parole, so he got put away for a really fuckin’ long time.”

Ian did know that Mickey had been in juvie. He’d told Ian how he’d finished high school in juvie and how his counselor there convinced him to pursue behavioral counseling.  But he figured it was for typical south side stuff—stealing, scamming, dealing. 

Finally, Mickey whispered, “Ian, say something.  Please.” He could hear the desperation in his voice, could tell he was at the end of his rope. 

Ian, still in somewhat of a state of shock, stoically said, “I worked at the White Swallow.  I knew him.  His name was Aaron.  I was the one who found him and called 911.  Mickey, that could’ve been me.”

He now saw a fresh batch of tears stream down Mickey’s face. “I know.  I’ve thought about that every fuckin’ day since you told me that you worked there.  And it haunts me every fuckin’ minute of every day. And I wish…I wish I could take it back. I wish every day that I would’ve just taken Terry’s bullet instead,” Mickey said through sobs. 

Ian desperately wanted to take Mickey in his arms and comfort him, but he was still in shock, trying to process everything.  Mickey clearly sensed his reticence and, “Ok.  I’ll, uh, I’ll just go,” before standing up and walking out the door.

Mickey threw open the door to his apartment and headed straight for his room, completely ignoring Mandy, who was sitting on the couch watching TV.  Fuck his life, seriously.  He fucking knew it.  Ian would never be able to forgive him, would never look at him the same way.  It was over, done.  At least there were no more what-ifs; Mickey had his answer.

Not even five seconds after he slammed his bedroom door shut, Mandy barged right in.

“What happened? Did you tell him?” Mandy asked. 

“Yeah, I did,” Mickey said with a sigh.  He was so sick and tired of crying today, it was ridiculous.  “Um, turns out Ian knew the guy.  He worked with him.  His name was Aaron,” Mickey choked back another sob, “and, uh, Ian was the one who called 911.  If it had been literally 5 minutes later it could’ve been Ian. Fuck.”  And goddamnit, he was crying again. He just couldn’t stop. 

He remembered hearing sirens in the distance as he and Terry were tackled to the ground by police who saw them fleeing suspiciously, the gun in Terry’s hand completely visible. It ended up being Mickey’s confession that sealed the deal and ensured that Terry would remain behind bars. 

“Shit,” Mandy said, in almost a whisper. “What else did he say?”

“He didn’t really say anything else.  Just kind of sat there.  I think he was in shock, I can’t blame him. Who wouldn’t be? I think it’s over.  I don’t think there’s any coming back from this.  I just wanna be alone for a little bit, ok?” Mickey said through sniffles in a voice that sounded hoarse and raw from crying.

“Ok, Mick,” Mandy said, walking out of the room.  She had other plans, though.

Ian was still glued to his spot on the couch.  He hadn’t moved since Mickey left.  He wanted to stop him from leaving, but it was like he was paralyzed with shock. Through his dazed state, he distantly registered the sound of a knock on the door.  

“Ian, open up!”, he heard Mandy yell on the other side of the door. He forced his body to stand, and he dragged himself to the door to open it.

Mandy walked past Ian into the apartment, and immediately said, “Ian, talk to me, please? I need to know what’s going on in your head.”

“I don’t know, Mandy.  I really don’t.  I’m just trying to process everything.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Ian nodded.

“Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day—and I’m talking as a kid, like seven, eight, nine, ten years old—and the first thing to cross your mind is how badly you’re going to get beaten that day? To wonder if that’ll be the day it finally goes too far? And to think these things about your own father, who’s supposed to protect you? To basically be resigned to the fact that you’re definitely not going to live past maybe seventeen years old? Because that’s how we lived.  Every. Single. Fucking. Day.”

Ian couldn’t believe that he hadn’t shriveled up into a raisin from dehydration, he’d cried so much today.  But somehow he was still able to produce more tears.

“Believe me when I tell you, Ian, that Mickey was 100% certain that he would die that night if he didn’t do what Terry forced him to do.  And trust me, Terry didn’t bluff.  He absolutely would’ve killed Mickey in a heartbeat. Mickey was a seventeen year-old kid scared for his life.  And he has tortured himself over it every single day for five years. He’s even told me that if he could do it all over again, he would go ahead and take the bullet.”

“He said that to me, too,” Ian said hoarsely.

“And it’s true. Ian, you know Mickey. You know what kind of person he is. I know this is a lot to process, but please don’t let it affect what you guys have.”

Ian nodded, suddenly wondering what the fuck he was even doing.  “I need to see him.  I need to go over there. Right now.  Fuck.”

“Then get the fuck going! I’m gonna just borrow your apartment so you guys can have some privacy, ok? Now go!”

With that, Ian ran out the door.  He couldn’t get to Mickey fast enough. 

Chapter Text

Ian opened the door and burst into Mickey’s apartment, desperate to get to him.  He didn’t see him right away, so he figured he must be in his bedroom.  He slowly opened the door to Mickey’s room and saw him curled up on his side, staring blankly out the window.  When Mickey registered the sound of the door opening, he turned his head to look at Ian, and Ian didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look like such a mess—albeit a beautiful mess.  His eyes were red and puffy, his nose was red, and he had dried tear tracks on his cheeks.  Ian hadn’t even glanced at a mirror since everything went down, so he was absolutely sure that he looked the same way.  

No words were said.  Ian just walked over to the bed, lay down behind Mickey, pressing his body all the way up against his back, and wrapped him in his arms. He placed a kiss on the back of Mickey’s neck and felt Mickey’s hand grasp at his own and hold it to his chest.  He then felt Mickey bring their joined hands to his lips and place a kiss on his knuckles.  

The only noises that could be heard were the sounds of shaky breathing through noses that were congested from crying, until Ian finally broke the silence. He whispered against the back of Mickey’s neck, “I’m sorry.  Mickey, I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell me, and most of all I’m so, so sorry for everything that you had to go through.  It wasn’t your fault.”

As soon as the words left Ian’s mouth, he felt Mickey’s whole body shudder as he inhaled a trembling breath.  Ian squeezed him even tighter and again said, “It wasn’t your fault, Mickey.”

He felt Mickey tighten his grip on Ian’s hand before turning around to face him, fresh tears forming in his eyes.  Ian honestly couldn’t believe that either of them still had functioning tear ducts.   

Mickey placed his forehead against Ian’s, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in and out. He then shook his head and said, “I’m the one who should be sorry.  I should’ve told you instead of pushing you away.  I was just so fuckin’ scared of losing you, so I figured I would get it over with.  But…I need you. I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Ian stroked Mickey’s hair and said, “I love you, too.  God, Mickey, I fucking love you.”

With that, Ian pulled Mickey in by the back of his head and they were desperately kissing, mouths open, tongues tangling, tasting each other like a person stranded in the desert finally getting a drink of water.

“Ian,” Mickey said as he frantically started removing Ian’s shirt, followed by his own, “Need you.  Fuckin’ need you.”

“You have me,” Ian said between desperate kisses as he struggled with the button and zipper on his pants, trying to remove them as quickly as possible, “Always.”

They were both puffy and congested with snot, their voices hoarse and raspy, and generally looked like they’d been put through the wringer, but they needed each other right now.  There was no time for a nap, no time for a shower.  They needed that closeness, their bodies needed to be connected.  

Once they were completely naked, they just reveled in the skin-to-skin contact, pressing their bodies together so that they were touching in as many places as they could.  They hadn’t used a condom in weeks, ever since they’d both gotten tested and received the all-clear.  Ian hadn’t been with anyone since he’d last been tested, and even though Mickey had never been tested, he had so little sexual experience that there was next to no likelihood of him having anything, but they wanted to do it the right way.  And Ian was grateful for that in this moment. He needed to feel Mickey in every way possible with no barrier between them.   

Ian reached into the nightstand drawer to get the bottle of lube, but first, he needed to show Mickey in every way how much he loved him.  He took his time with every single part of his body, moving from his lips down to his neck, giving him an impressive hickey, and then traveling down to his chest, where he paid special attention to both nipples, licking and sucking each one.  The sounds coming from Mickey were sinful, and Ian could hear those sounds for the rest of his life and it would always be like the first time.  

He moved down Mickey’s torso, past his cock and to the inside of his thigh, where he sucked and licked greedily, leaving another hickey that contrasted beautifully against his pale skin.  Finally, he poured some lube onto his fingers, and as he pressed one finger into Mickey’s hole, he sank his mouth down onto his cock, taking him all the way to the base.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mickey said from above him, as he added one and then two more digits and continued to bob his head up and down in time with the strokes of his fingers.  “I’m good, need you in me Ian,” Mickey practically whined.    

Ian didn’t need to hear anymore.  He lifted his head, removed his fingers, and quickly replaced them with his cock, slowly pushing in until he was bottomed out. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian, pushing his heels into his ass, and Ian took that as his cue, thrusting in and out as he draped his body over Mickey and kissed him with everything he had.  

Fuck, Mickey needed this.  He needed more. He needed it harder, faster.  He needed to feel fuckin’ everything.  He’d felt completely numb after everything that happened today, and now he needed to feel.  “Harder,” he said, “Fuck me harder,” he panted as Ian obliged and pounded into him.  

It wasn’t enough.  He needed more.  He flipped them over so that Ian was on his back and Mickey was on top of him, and immediately sank back down onto Ian’s cock.  

“Fuck, Mick, you feel so fucking good.  You’re fucking perfect,” Ian said as Mickey bounced up and down on his cock, angling his hips so that he was hitting his sweet spot every time.  Riding Ian was his favorite fucking thing in the world and he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without it.  Though he knew that it wouldn’t have been the same with anyone else besides Ian.  

“Are you close? I’m so fucking close,” Ian said, sounding completely breathless.  

Mickey nodded, “Yeah, so fuckin’ close.  Touch me.”

Ian immediately wrapped his hand around Mickey’s cock and started stroking as he frantically thrust up into him, and within seconds, Mickey was coming all over Ian’s hand and he felt warmth filling him up as Ian came, moaning Mickey’s name. 

Mickey collapsed down onto Ian and buried his face in his neck, just lying there for a minute before Ian pulled out.  They were both panting, trying desperately to catch their breaths.  Ian stroked Mickey’s hair and kissed his temple.  

“Fuckin’ love you,” Mickey mumbled against Ian’s neck.

“Love you too. So much,” Ian said with his mouth pressed against Mickey’s head. “Don’t ever leave me again, ok? Don’t push me away. You know you don’t have to be okay all the time.  It’s okay to not be okay.  Fuck, Mickey, don’t you remember how we met?  I was a fucking mess.  And you made me feel like it would be okay.  Even if it didn’t feel like it at the time.  You don’t always have to be okay.  But I want you to know that you will be.  And I’ll be here.”

Mickey honestly couldn’t figure out what he’d ever done in his life to deserve this man. He was a thug, a fuck-up, always trying to keep his head above water and never quite succeeding.  But this amazing man was here with him, telling him that he loved him and was here for him, and who was he to question it?

Mickey just nodded, and said, “I know.  I won’t push you away.  I’m sorry.  I just…it’s too much sometimes.  And I don’t want to burden you with it.”

“Mickey, your feelings are never a fucking burden to me, ok?  I want to know you from the inside out, every little thing that’s buried deep inside of you.  If you want to tell me, then I want to hear it.  Don’t ever think that you can’t tell me anything.” 

A brief period of silence followed, before Ian said, “Don’t get mad or anything, ok? But I was just wondering if you’ve ever seen a therapist.”

Mickey shook his head and said, “No, not since Tara in juvie.  I mean obviously I was raised to believe that it was for pussies, but obviously that changed with Tara.  And now I’m studying to be one. What kind of fucking therapist or counselor needs to see a therapist himself?  How fucked up is that?”

“It’s not fucked up at all.  We’re all human.  Counselors, therapists, psychiatrists, psychologists; they’re still human beings, not superheroes.  Everyone needs someone to talk to. And I would think that it would only help you help others, to improve your own emotional state so that you can be the best you can be.  I’ve been thinking that maybe I should start seeing my therapist more consistently again.  I mean, my therapist is also my psychiatrist, so I see her for meds adjustments and obviously for check-ins, especially after my low episode when I first called you.  But maybe I can start seeing her weekly again, and we can start together? I’m sure you have a network of people that you can connect with, since you’re in the field and all, but I can always ask Dr. Harper if she has any recommendations—”

“Ian,” Mickey interrupted, as he sensed the beginning of one of Ian’s famous ramblings, “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll look into it, ok?”

“Ok,” Ian whispered.  

After a few more moments of quiet, both of them still tangled together in bed, sweaty and sticky, Ian said, “Wanna shower?”

“Yeah.  Let’s go,” Mickey said, as they got up and headed to the bathroom.  

As they let the hot water run over their bodies, releasing some of the tension of the day—this completely fucked up day—well, it had ended well, but still—they kissed languidly and scrubbed each other’s bodies, each of them knowing the other’s body so well.  

Ian had been dreaming about eating Mickey’s ass for weeks—months, if he was being honest—but he still hadn’t properly rimmed Mickey, only little teasing licks here and there during blowjobs.  And now, he thought, what better time than in the shower?

Ian started stroking Mickey’s cock, which was already on its way but was now growing to full hardness, before turning him around and getting to his knees.

Mickey braced his hands on the wall and asked, “Ian, what are you—ohhhh, fuck…holy shit.” He couldn’t finish the question before Ian’s tongue was circling his asshole and diving right in.  

Ian buried his head between Mickey’s cheeks as he fucked Mickey with his tongue, and fuck, this did not disappoint in the slightest.  Ian could spend all day with his face in Mickey’s ass.  It really was his favorite thing on the planet, that beautiful, incredible ass.  

Before long, Mickey was stroking his own cock in time with the thrusts of Ian’s tongue, and soon he was coming all over the shower tiles.  Ian could tell that Mickey’s legs were about to give out, so he turned him around and just held him.  They stood there in the shower just holding each other until the water ran cold, neither wanting to let go. Not now, not ever.

Then Ian absently remembered something.  “Shit, we should probably tell Mandy what happened. She’s over at my place right now.”

Mickey laughed.  “Probably raidin’ your fridge.”

“Yeah, thank god we have her though, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess she’s alright sometimes,” Mickey conceded.  He really did thank his lucky stars for his sister though.  He wasn’t quite sure where he’d be without her. 

Chapter Text

After the Valentine’s Day from hell, things pretty much went back to normal; better than normal, really. Ian couldn’t help but think that things between Mickey and him were better than ever.   Now that they’d finally said those three words to each other, the words flowed freely every time they said goodbye to each other, every time they fucked (or dare he say it, made love), really just anytime they felt like saying it.  And Ian wasn’t sure if it was because Mickey just felt lighter, having freed himself of the burden of carrying that secret buried inside for so long, but he had started being more open with his affections in public, even holding Ian’s hand when they were walking through the campus village.  

They were busier than ever with their classes and work, but they still managed to spend a few nights a week together.  And of course they couldn’t get enough of each other physically.  Mickey was really embracing who he was and what he liked, and Ian loved to see it. 

They’d also both started going to therapy weekly.  Ian was no stranger to therapy, but he had gotten lax with it over the last year, so it was good for him to go back to the consistent routine of it.  Dr. Harper praised Ian for coming back, and there was really a lot to catch her up on. She had encouraged and praised Ian’s newfound practice of journaling, and said that it was something he should do every day. He had started journaling after Mickey had given him the leather-bound journal for Christmas, but he was now doing it much more consistently.  He found that it really helped him to identify and track his emotions, especially being able to identify possible triggers and elevated moods. 

Mickey had been able to find a therapist specializing in childhood trauma by contacting one of the professors in his department, who was happy to provide him with some names.  Mickey of course hadn’t told her that it was for himself, but she didn’t need to know.  Ian was just happy that he’d found someone he seemed to gel with.  Mickey had been extremely hesitant to even use the term “childhood trauma,” as he’d convinced himself that the abuse he’d endured as a child no longer affected him, but Ian managed to convince him otherwise and he’d been fortunate enough to find Dr. Ricci.  He thought that Mickey just seemed happier overall.

But as the semester went on and Mickey got closer and closer to graduation—and started to look into graduate programs—Ian could tell that the stress was starting to get to him.  He seemed particularly stressed about a couple of kids at the youth center. Ian didn’t know all the details, because being the professional that he was, Mickey didn’t disclose confidential information about the kids.  He knew that there was a teenager who reminded Mickey a lot of himself, with an abusive father, and he also knew that there was another teenager who’d been kicked out of his home for being gay.  But he didn’t know their names, or any information beyond that.  Mickey had shared this information with Ian only as it pertained to himself and how it affected him.  Ian knew that Mickey was upset because he still hadn’t been able to come out himself to anyone at the center, and that made him feel like a fraud.  Ian had assured him that he wasn’t obligated to anyone to come out to them, but Mickey was still bothered by it.  

Mickey was happy.  He didn’t really think he’d ever truly been able to say that in his life, but he really was.  Once he’d told Ian everything about his past, it was like a weight had been lifted, or more so like a demon had been driven out of his body.  It was something that had haunted him every single day for years, and it’s not like it was truly gone—it was of course still with him, only a time machine would be able to erase it completely—but he’d finally gotten it off his chest, and therapy was really helping. 

It was hard for him to wrap his mind around his hesitation to start therapy, given that he himself was studying to become a behavioral counselor.  He figured that it had something to do with opening up a pandora’s box of sorts; like once he really dug down deep into his past and the emotions tied to it, he was afraid of what else he would find. But he knew now that he needed to release those demons, and the only way to do it was to reach deep down inside and talk about it.  

School and work were crazy, especially because he was in his last semester, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d want to change.  Well, maybe one thing.  Or two.  And both things were tied to the youth center.  He wished that he could get Danny to open up to him a bit more, though Mickey completely understood, considering he was the exact same way even now, given how reticent he was to start therapy himself—and thinking about that, he was struck once again by how much like himself Danny was. 

He also just wished he had the balls to come out to everyone at the center, especially Marcus.  He knew that it would help Marcus relate to him and trust him on a completely different level, but now it seemed like he had gone so long without saying anything, that he wasn’t sure how he would even do it now.  It just made him feel like even more of a fake.  If he couldn’t even be honest with the people he was trying to help, how was he supposed to make a career out of this?  Terry was in jail.  He would hopefully be there for the rest of his life.  So why did the piece of shit continue to have such a hold on him?

Spring break was fast approaching, and Ian had a surprise up his sleeve.  Neither of them had any plans for the week-long break, besides just staying home and fucking all day.  Ian figured, why not take a little staycation and fuck all day in a fancy hotel with a rooftop pool?  Why not live like a tourist and fully experience downtown Chicago, something neither of them had really done?  He’d picked up a few extra escort gigs recently, much to Mickey’s chagrin—though he tried really hard to hide it from Ian, he could tell that it still bothered him—so that he could book them a nice hotel room at the Viceroy Chicago. 

It was the Friday before the break, and Ian had booked the room for three nights.  Since he only had one morning class that day, he’d gone ahead and packed both of their bags.  They were now at each other’s apartments so much that they both had about half their wardrobes at the other’s place, and anything of Mickey’s that wasn’t at his place, he was able to just use his key to go into his apartment and grab.  

Ian had taken a few days off from the cafe, and thankfully, since Mickey was an intern, he wasn’t working at the youth center over spring break.  Mandy had given her blessing, excited at the prospect of having the apartment to herself for a few days.  

Since Mickey was off work a bit earlier on Fridays, Ian figured he would meet him there and surprise him with the news.  He even brought their packed bags so they could just order an Uber and head straight to the hotel.  As he approached the youth center, Ian figured he would have to act like Mickey’s “bro,” since people at the center didn’t know Mickey had a boyfriend or even that he was gay, and Ian wasn’t sure if he’d want to disclose that information just yet.  

Ian opened the door to the center, overnight bags in hand, and immediately saw Mickey with a group of kids playing Dixit.  He just watched Mickey in his element for a few minutes, listening to the kids’ interpretations and stories and providing encouragement.  Again, he was struck by how much he loved this man.  

After Ian had been standing there for a few minutes, Mickey finally looked up and noticed him.  He immediately told the kids that he’d be right back, and briskly walked over to Ian.  “Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, before giving Ian a peck on the lips, like it was the most natural thing to do.

And it was, indeed, the most natural thing to do.  So natural and reflexive, in fact, that as soon as he did it, Ian noticed Mickey’s eyes widen in shock as he realized that he’d just kissed Ian in front of everyone.  Mickey just stared at Ian dumbfounded, eyes wide and cheeks flushing red, seemingly wanting to avoid looking at the people who were undoubtedly surprised. 

Holy shit.  He just kissed Ian in front of the kids and a bunch of the people he worked with.  Zach was standing right there, all of the kids in the group he was running were probably looking right at him, and he was afraid to look and see what might be written on their faces.  But why?  These people weren’t Terry.  He was in a place that was a safe space for everyone, with a director who prided himself on helping queer youth, and one kid in particular who was open with his sexuality but had been punished for it by his own father, just as Mickey had been punished.  Why keep hiding?  Mickey couldn’t begin to think of a reason.  Fuck it.

He grabbed Ian’s hand and dragged him over to the group of kids he’d just been working with and said, “Hey, everyone.  This is my boyfriend, Ian.”

He looked at Ian and saw that he was absolutely beaming, with that stupid, huge grin that Mickey loved. Suddenly, there was a chorus of voices saying “Hey, Ian,” “Hi, Ian,” “‘Sup, Ian,” and the like. 

But Marcus just looked on in shock, before he finally spoke, “You’re gay?”

Mickey answered with a nod, “Yeah, I am.  I’m gay.” He’d never spoken those two words out loud before. Ever.  And surprisingly, with Ian by his side, it wasn’t so hard.  In fact, it was really fuckin’ easy.

Marcus just flushed slightly and said, “Cool.”

Mickey knew that he and Marcus would have a lot to talk about.  He would finally be able to talk about his own experience with his father, which he hadn’t been able to do before.  But now definitely wasn’t the time.  

“So, uh, why don’t you guys keep playing, I’m gonna head out, but I’ll see you guys after the break, ok?”

“Bye, Mickey,” “See ya,” “Have a good break,” “Later,” he heard coming from various kids in the group.  

Before Mickey headed out the door with Ian, Zach, who had heard and seen the whole thing, walked up to Mickey and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Mickey.  Just wanted to let you know that I’m really proud of you.  I know that must’ve been hard to share, but I’m happy you did. I know how hard it was for me when I first came out.  Once I had the support of my boyfriend at the time, who’s now my husband, it really helped me to be my authentic self. I see that you have that support too,” he said as he smiled and nodded his head towards Ian, “and I really appreciate you sharing that with these kids.”

Mickey didn’t really know what to say.  Truthfully, he had no idea about Zach’s sexuality, but he supposed he wasn’t really surprised.  He just stood there, blushing from the praise, eventually saying, “Uh, yeah, thanks, Zach.”

“Bye, Mickey, have  a good spring break.  You deserve it,” Zach said as Mickey and Ian headed out the door. 

They stood outside of the center as Mickey tried to calm his nerves.  He felt good, he felt lighter, but his anxiety had really ramped up in the moment.  He then felt Ian place a hand on his cheek.  He looked up at Ian, who was still smiling, but now it was a soft, fond smile.  

“I’m so, so fucking proud of you, you know that?” Ian said as he stroked Mickey’s cheekbone with his thumb.  

Mickey just shook his head.  “Nothin’ to be proud of.  Shouldn’t have taken so long.”

“That’s bullshit.  Doesn’t matter how long it took, you did it.  And you don’t get to tell me not to be proud, fucker,” Ian teased.

“Fuck off,” Mickey said with a laugh.  “Now what the fuck is with all the bags?”

“Well,” Ian said as he pulled out his phone, “I’m ordering an Uber right now, and we’re starting our fucking spring break, that’s what.  I booked us a room at the Viceroy, and we’re going to be Chicago tourists for a few days. What do you think?”

“Sounds fuckin’ amazing,” Mickey said as he tilted his chin up and gave Ian a kiss right there on the sidewalk.  Why not?  He had nothing to hide anymore.  He was never going to hide again.  

Chapter Text

“Damn, Gallagher, these are some fancy digs,” Mickey said in shock as they stepped into the hotel room and dropped their bags.  And it truly was incredible.  Ian glanced around the room, taking in the king-size bed with crisp, white bedding, the gold tile work covering the wall behind the bed and the modern-looking bar cart directly in front of it, the desk right by the window which was flanked by teal curtains, and…holy shit, the view.  Stepping up to the window, Ian and Mickey looked out to see the most amazing view of downtown Chicago and Lake Michigan. 

“Holy fuck, look at this view,” Ian said in awe as he looked out the window.

“Fuck, it’s incredible,” Mickey agreed. “Seriously though, Ian, this is really fuckin’ fancy.  You didn’t need to do all this.  How the fuck did you afford this?”

“Why do you think I picked up all those extra escort gigs?” Ian said with an eye-roll.

Mickey just nodded.  He knew that Ian had been picking up more escorting jobs recently, and while he didn’t say anything to Ian—he had learned his lesson there, for sure—he really didn’t like it.  It wasn’t as if he was jealous; it was obviously just a job.  It’s not like Ian was out there on real dates with these guys.  That wasn’t what bothered him.  What really bothered him was the fact that he was treated like, as Ian himself had described it, “arm candy.”  To Mickey, Ian was not arm candy.  He wasn’t just some pretty face.  This was the man that he loved, and to Mickey, he was everything.  He really was his whole world.  But if Ian was okay with it, then Mickey had to be, too.  If Ian was in control of the situation, then that’s all that mattered.  
                                     

They walked further into the room to check out the bathroom.  Ian’s eyes immediately landed on the huge bathtub, and he immediately decided, “We’re definitely going to fuck in that tub.”

Mickey just let out a laugh, but he couldn’t disagree.  He definitely wasn’t opposed to getting fucked in that bathtub.  In fact, he had worked today and could probably use a bath….”So what the fuck are you waitin’ for, Red?”

Ian looked at Mickey with wide eyes, and Mickey just looked back with a smirk and one raised eyebrow in challenge.  And Ian was never one to back away from a challenge.  “Oh fuck yeah, let’s go.  Clothes off now, Milkovich.”

Ian turned on the water and worked to get the temperature just right as Mickey quickly stripped down.  Once Ian had gotten the water just right, he turned to see Mickey standing there completely naked and so fucking beautiful, his cock already fully hard and standing at attention.  Ian stripped his clothes off in record time before stepping into the bath.  Mickey climbed into the bath after him and sat back against Ian’s chest.  From this position, Mickey was able to easily rub his ass against Ian’s cock and drive him fucking crazy.  

“Fuck, hold on,” Ian said as he reached over the side of the tub to grab his discarded pants.  He reached into the pocket to grab a little packet of silicon-based lube that he’d packed just for such an occasion.  “Voila!” Ian said triumphantly.

“Fuckin’ boy scout,” Mickey teased as he continued to rub his crack right along the length of Ian’s dick, and before long, Ian couldn’t take it anymore.  He squeezed some lube onto his fingers and got Mickey into position by grabbing at his hips.  Mickey knew exactly what he wanted.  He bent forward, supporting himself on the sides of the tub with his hands, and raised his ass so it was just out of the water.   

Ian immediately dove right in with one and then two fingers, driving Mickey insane as he moved in and out, grazing his fingers against Mickey’s prostate on every other pass. 

“Fuck, fuck, get in me already,” Mickey pleaded, and who was Ian to deny him?  He pulled Mickey back and positioned him right over his cock, Mickey then pushing all the way down until he was fully seated.

“Nnngmmm,” Mickey groaned out as his ass touched Ian’s lap and he was completely filled.  They had never done this in the water before, which obviously meant that Mickey hadn’t done it ever.  As he bounced up and down on Ian’s cock, now gripping Ian’s ankles for leverage, he thought that he really liked it a lot.  It was slippery, sure, but, fuck, something about the weightlessness of it was driving him wild.   

Before long, Mickey managed to find the perfect angle to hit his sweet spot just right, and as he kept going, hitting his prostate every single time he sank onto Ian’s cock, he felt his orgasm creeping up fast.

“Fuck, Ian, ‘m really close,” he grunted out as he continued the assault on his own prostate.

“Me too, fuck, I’m so close,” Ian panted as he continued to grasp Mickey’s hips, moving him up and down even faster.

Within seconds, Mickey’s orgasm tore through him like an out of body explosion, feeling so much sensation throughout his whole body like he’d never felt before, as he came completely untouched, white ribbons spurting into the bath water.  

Ian followed right afterwards, biting on the back of Mickey’s shoulder as he pulled him tight against his chest and filled him up.  

They just sat there for a couple of minutes, trying to catch their breaths, with Ian still inside Mickey.

“What the fuck? Holy shit,” was all Mickey could get out.  He had never come without touching himself or even having any slight friction against his dick, and holy fuck, it was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had.   

“Yeah,” Ian said, “holy shit is right.  You’re so fucking beautiful Mickey, just taking what you want, what you need, and getting pleasure from it. I fucking love you.”

“Love you too,” Mickey said as he leaned back and rested his head against Ian’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet, we need to get out of the bath.  And my dick is still in your ass,” Ian teased.

“‘S fine.  It can stay in there forever, I don’t mind,” Mickey said as he yawned.  

“Well that might make daily tasks a bit difficult,” Ian chuckled before tapping Mickey’s ass to gently lift it. “C’mon, up you go.”

Mickey reluctantly got up, and as soon as he was standing, Ian helped him out of the bath.  He could see that Mickey was still shaking a bit, probably from the intensity of everything that had just happened, and he immediately wrapped him up in one of the fluffy white bathrobes that the hotel provided.  Ian put one on himself as well, and they walked over to the bed, collapsing on top.  

     __________________

They woke up a couple of hours later, having completely passed out as soon as they hit the bed.  They were both starving, so they ordered room service and ate on the bed in their robes.  

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?  Knowing you, you probably got a bunch of touristy shit planned.” Mickey said while cutting his steak.

“Mmm, indeed,” Ian said as he shoved a handful of sweet potato fries into his mouth.  He finished chewing before continuing, “Tomorrow we’re gonna go to Millennium Park and then the Skydeck at Willis Tower.  Always wanted to do that.  You ever been?”

“No, and you can bet your ass that I ain’t gonna stand on some piece of plexiglass hovering a thousand fuckin’ feet above the ground.” 

“Aw, come on, Mickey, it’ll be fun!  We could get such good pictures up there.  The view must be incredible.”

“What, you need some pictures for your insta-whatever the fuck?”

“No, I just want to have more pictures of us together.” Ian said, and Mickey couldn’t really resist the soft and hopeful look on his face. 

“Alright, I’ll go with you, but I’m not making any promises about going onto that damn Ledge, ok?”

“Ok,” Ian said, quite sure that he would be able to convince Mickey to do it. 

*

*

The next day, they spent a few hours at Millennium Park, mostly walking through Lurie Garden and admiring the spring displays.  Mickey had brought his sketch pad, something that Ian had rarely seen him pull out, but Ian had packed it in Mickey’s overnight bag knowing that they would be seeing the beautiful floral displays and Mickey might feel inspired to draw.  Mickey seemed uncomfortable at first, like he didn’t want Ian to see his sketches, perhaps thinking that they weren’t good enough to show anybody, but it didn’t matter. Ian knew that Mickey liked to draw for himself alone.  It was calming for him.  He still remembered their very first conversation on the crisis line, when Mickey had told Ian that drawing really helped him clear his mind.  

And as Ian glanced over Mickey’s shoulder to see what he was drawing, he couldn’t wrap his mind around why Mickey would ever want to hide it.  His sketches were incredible, and seeing them made Ian’s heart feel like bursting.  He was just in awe of this man.  

After Millennium Park, they headed to Willis Tower, where Ian hoped that he could convince Mickey to step out onto the Ledge at Skydeck, at least for a couple of pictures.

When they arrived at the Skydeck, Ian was again taken with the views of the city.  It was crazy to him how he’d spent his entire life in Chicago, but he had never seen it in this way.  He could tell that Mickey felt the same, judging by the awestruck look on his face.  

When they saw the clear balcony boxes extending out from the tower, Ian gestured towards them, and Mickey adamantly shook his head.  “No fuckin’ way, I’m not standing there hovering a thousand feet in the air.”

“C’mon, Mick, just for a minute.  I’ll be right there with you. Look at all the people standing on them, nothing’s going to happen.”

“Alright, just for a minute,” Mickey conceded.

     __________________

As they stood in a clear box jutting out from the side of the tower and hovering so far above the city that the people on the ground looked like ants, Mickey again wondered if there was anything he wouldn’t do for this ginger fuck.  And again, the answer was probably not.

He actually felt like he was going to have a heart attack, and he was having a hard time even moving.  He managed a forced smile for Ian’s selfie, and when Ian asked a tourist if he could take their picture, he again forced out a smile, though he was sure the tension in his whole body was visible.  

After the pictures were over with, Ian looked at Mickey and said, “Isn’t this amazing?”

Mickey couldn’t deny that it was pretty incredible, but right now he needed to get the fuck off of that balcony before he had a panic attack. He nodded quickly, hoping that would answer Ian’s question, and croaked out, “Need to…get outta here,” before running back inside the building.

He took several calming breaths while bending over with his hands on his knees, as Ian came up next to him. 

“Hey, you ok?” Ian asked.

“Yeah.  Yeah, just…don’t like fuckin’ heights.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of heights?  I thought you were just being grumpy.  I’m sorry I convinced you to do that.  But I love you so much for doing that for me, you know that?”

Mickey finally stood up straight and looked at Ian, “Yeah.  Love you too.”  He almost glanced around to make sure no one was looking, but then he stopped himself.  Fuck that, he thought, and leaned in to give Ian a kiss, not giving a shit if anyone saw.

That night, they ordered room service again, gave each other handjobs in the bathtub, then fucked two times on the bed that felt like a fucking cloud.  They passed out completely sated and happier than ever. 

*

*

The next morning, Ian woke Mickey in his favorite way, by sucking his dick until Mickey was moaning and desperately gripping his hair.  He didn’t need to butter him up necessarily, though Mickey wasn’t a fan of waking up this early.  But they were going to the Museum of Ice Cream today, and if anything had the power to cheer Mickey up, it was sugar. 

After Mickey came and Ian swallowed every last drop, he shared his plans with Mickey.  

“The fuck is the Museum of Ice Cream?”

“It’s like an interactive museum where you go through different spaces that are kind of supposed to represent Chicago and eat a bunch of ice cream.”

“Alright, I’m sold, when are we going?”

Yep, Ian knew his man alright. 

After they’d walked through the interesting—and very pink—museum, eating ice cream to his heart’s content, Mickey was full as fuck and needed a nap.

When they got back to the hotel, they did just that.  They spent the rest of the day napping, eating, lounging, and fucking—Mickey was starting to see a trend there—and as they started to drift off to sleep on their last night in the hotel, cuddled together like always, Mickey just whispered, “Thanks for planning this for us.  I love you,” as he closed his eyes.   

Chapter Text

Mickey and Ian both felt refreshed after spring break. Their staycation took up about half of the break, and the rest of it was just spent hanging out, mostly at Ian’s apartment, cuddling, and watching Mickey’s favorite Food Network competition shows.

As it turned out, Ian wasn’t the only one who could pull out all the stops.  Mickey had a little surprise up his sleeve as well, sort of an early birthday present for Ian. On the last day of spring break, Mickey pulled out his phone to show Ian his surprise. 

“What’s this?” Ian asked as Mickey showed him two e-tickets on his phone.  

“An early birthday present I guess.  Not that this is gonna be your only present or anything.  Or I guess it can be a just-for-the-heck of it kinda thing.  It’s two tickets for Dark 80’s New Wave Nite at Beat Kitchen.  I heard about it and thought it would be fun.”

Ian couldn’t even help the grin that spread across his face.  He remembered their shared love of 80’s new wave music from their very first phone conversation, and this was just so perfect.  

“This sounds awesome, I can’t wait,” Ian said as he pulled Mickey in for a deep and passionate kiss.  He looked again at the e-tickets and clicked on a link to see the details. The description read that it was “Inspired by the music of Depeche Mode, New Order, Joy Division, Tears for Fears, Soft Cell, Blondie, The Cure, Talking Heads, Sisters Of Mercy, David Bowie, The Smiths, Gary Numan, Eurythmics, Morrissey, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Psychedelic Furs, Nitzer Ebb, Orchestral Manoeuvers In The Dark, Duran Duran, The Human League, Echo & The Bunnymen, Ministry, Oingo Boingo, Gang of Four, A Flock of Seagulls, Front 242 & More,” and Ian became more and more excited.  He would be going to a fun music event with his boyfriend, hearing music that they both loved, and just enjoying themselves.  Maybe he would even be able to get Mickey to dance with him.  

The following weekend, it was time to get their party on.  Ian wanted it to be like a formal date, so he was getting ready by himself and Mickey was going to pick him up in a bit.  Ian wanted to look the part as much as possible, so he put extra gel in his hair and pulled some pieces in the front straight down on one side so that they were framing his face and almost covering one eye.  He really wondered what Mickey would think of this next part.  He wasn’t sure, but he hoped that Mickey would find it hot.  He applied some eyeliner on his top and bottom lids and smudged it just a bit, and he thought he looked pretty fucking good if he did say so himself. 

He didn’t want to go out and buy new clothes, so he figured he would work with what he had.  He had some ripped jeans and a pair of black Docs, which he didn’t wear very often, and he paired those with Mickey’s Depeche Mode shirt that he’d given him for Christmas.  Since it was Mickey’s shirt, it fit much more snugly on his own frame, which he thought was perfect.  He rolled the sleeves all the way up so that it gave the effect of cut-off sleeves and showed off his biceps, and as he gave himself a once over in the mirror, he definitely thought he looked the part.

Just a few minutes later, Mickey showed up at the door.  Even though he of course had a key, he knew that Ian wanted this to be a proper date, so he knocked.  When Ian opened the door, his mouth fell open as he gaped at his sexy-as-fuck boyfriend.  He looked like a wet dream personified, and Ian strongly considered just forgoing the music event and instead taking Mickey apart piece by piece and fucking the life out of him.  

Ian took his boyfriend in from top to bottom.  He had his beautiful, black hair styled so that one piece in the front sort of draped down his forehead.  He was wearing a snug-fitting, faded, black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, that had been artfully slashed in various places, 80’s style.  He didn’t have anything on underneath, so everywhere that the shirt was slashed, his beautiful, pale skin showed through. His fingernails were painted black, and Ian’s heart warmed at the thought of him most likely asking Mandy to paint his nails and cutting up his own t-shirt. His eyes traveled further down to take in Mickey’s tight, black jeans with holes in the knees and his knee-high, lace-up black combat boots with a bit of a platform on them, making him a couple inches taller.  

“You just gonna stand there, Red, or you gonna invite me in?” Mickey said with a smirk.

“Jesus Christ, you look fuckin’ hot. C’mere, turn around, I need to see your ass in these jeans.”

Mickey obliged, stepping inside the apartment, shutting the door, and turning around to show Ian his ass, even popping it out just a bit for added effect.

Ian took the opportunity to grope Mickey’s ass before grabbing him by the hips and pulling him roughly towards him so that Mickey’s ass was right up against his crotch. Ian leaned in and whispered in Mickey’s ear, as his hand came around to gently hold Mickey’s throat, “That ass is gonna fuckin’ get it tonight.”

Mickey swallowed, and Ian felt his Adam's apple bob up and down against hand, as he said with a devious smile, “That a promise, tough guy?” 

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Ian whispered in Mickey’s ear, adding just the slightest bit of pressure to his hold on Mickey’s throat, noting how Mickey’s eyes fluttered closed as he panted with parted lips.  He made a mental note to come back to that later.  For now, though, they needed to stop before one of them ended up on their knees with a cock in their mouth.  They were going to be late if they didn’t get going.  

“Trust me, we’ll have all night for this.  Right now, I want everyone to see how fucking sexy my boyfriend is,” Ian said, as he turned Mickey around to face him.

He saw Mickey’s eyes flicker over his face as he took in his look and said, “I think you’ve got it backwards.  I’m the one with the hot as fuck boyfriend.  Look at you, Red.  Goddamn, you look good.”

Mickey never thought he would be into a guy wearing eyeliner, but holy fucking shit, was it doing things to him right now.  Everything—his gelled hair and the few red strands framing his face, the black around his eyes making the green of his irises stand out even more, the fact that Ian was wearing his shirt, the ripped jeans, the boots—was just fucking perfect, and Ian looked like a fantasy come to life.  He had just made him so fucking hard in these tight jeans that it was becoming painful, so he willed his erection down so that they could get going.  Ian was right, they had all night, and when they got home, he was going to climb Ian like a tree and impale himself on that cock. 

But first, they had an 80’s New Wave party to go to.  

Ian loved this.  It was crowded, they were surrounded by sweaty bodies dancing and singing, and he was here with the man he loved, who was easily the sexiest person in the whole place.  Mickey started off by just bobbing his head along with the music, refusing to dance despite Ian’s pleading.  

Mickey watched Ian dancing, and Ian could tell that he was getting turned on, but he still shook his head every time Ian wanted to dance with him.  But when ‘Just Can’t Get Enough’ came on, he knew that Mickey wouldn’t be able to say no.  

“C’mon, Mick, it’s our song,” Ian said as he tugged on Mickey’s arm trying to bring him away from the periphery and into the throng of dancing party-goers.  “Dance with me, please?”

“We have a song?,” Mickey asked teasingly.

“Yeah, we do.  I mean I can’t strip down and dance in my underwear since we’re in public, but we can still dance,” Ian said with his signature grin.  

Mickey just laughed and shook his head.  He still couldn’t believe that he’d said that to Ian during his very first call to the crisis center.  He had thrown away the standard professional textbook stuff as soon as he’d heard Ian’s voice.  There was just something about him right from the beginning.  Mickey had felt such a strong connection to him; obviously not a romantic one in the beginning, but it just felt like he knew him.  And even though Ian still teased him about his “dancing in his undies” comment, he also told him on multiple occasions how that conversation had saved his life.  So fuck it, he was going to dance with his man, and fuck yeah, this was their song.

“Alright, fine.  But I can’t fuckin’ dance, don’t even know what to do.”

As Ian pulled him into the middle of the crowd, he drew him close to his body and said in his ear, “You just move your body to the music.  That’s all you have to do.  Just move with me.”

Ian then turned Mickey around so that his back was against Ian’s front, and they were plastered together at every point on their bodies.  Ian held Mickey’s hips as he swayed and swiveled his own hips to the music, and Mickey did just what Ian said.  He moved with him.  Ian’s hands started to wander, moving from Mickey’s hips to his stomach to his chest, and to Mickey, it almost felt like sex, they way they moved together so in sync.  It was hot.  Ian started to kiss Mickey’s neck from behind as they continued to sway, and Mickey reached back and grabbed the back of Ian’s head, encouraging him to keep going with his ministrations.  

Mickey closed his eyes as they kept moving.  It was as if they were one, completely connected.  And he didn’t even think for a second about the fact that he was in the middle of a crowd.  When they’d first entered the venue, Mickey had done a quick glance around to see that everyone was completely caught up in their own pleasure, in enjoying themselves to the fullest, and he’d actually seen quite a few same-sex couples publicly displaying affections.  So right now, he just let it happen.  He closed his eyes as he danced erotically with his boyfriend, his ass rubbing against his cock as Ian continued to suck on his neck.  And he couldn’t believe it, but in that moment, he didn’t fucking care if everyone in the whole damn place was staring right at them.

True to his word, Ian had every intention of destroying Mickey’s ass when they got home, and Mickey was more than willing to let him do just that.  They had barely made it out of the bar without having to stop at the bathroom to get each other off. They had both gotten each other so worked up as they continued to dance to several more songs, and they were both completely hard.  Sporting huge boners in tight jeans in the middle of a crowd wasn’t a great look, and since the event was almost over, they decided to get the hell out of there and take care of the situation.  They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other in the back seat of their Uber, and if it wasn’t for the constant glances in the rearview mirror from their driver, they probably would’ve just gone ahead and jerked each other off right then and there.  

As soon as they opened the door to Ian’s apartment, Mickey did exactly what he’d planned to do.  He climbed Ian like a tree right there against the front door as soon as it was closed, holding him by the neck and wrapping his legs around his waist while Ian gripped his ass to hold him up.  They attacked each other’s mouths, all lips, teeth, and tongues, for a few seconds before Ian put Mickey down on the floor and tore his slashed t-shirt right off of his body.

“Holy fucking shit,” Mickey panted, frantically removing Ian’s shirt.  Ian worked on shedding himself of his boots and jeans as Mickey bent over to take off his own boots, purposely doing so while turned away from Ian.  He knew that Ian loved his ass, and he was going to take full advantage.  Of course the boots took forever to remove, since they were knee-high lace-up combat boots, and when he finally got them off, he turned around to see that Ian was already fully naked.  Fuck, and the eyeliner was still on; in fact, it was totally smudged from sweating and making out, and it was even hotter than it was before.  Jesus.   

As Mickey went to work removing his own pants, Ian commanded, “Put the boots back on after you take your pants off.  Wanna fuck you with the boots on.”

Mickey happily obliged, pulling his pants and boxer briefs off in one fell swoop, and stepping back into the boots.  He didn’t bother lacing them back up.  He thought he would feel ridiculous, standing there wearing nothing but a pair of unlaced, knee-high combat boots, his dick hard and leaking, but seeing the hungry look in Ian’s eyes as he watched him, he felt empowered.  He felt sexy, he felt wanted, and he felt fucking invincible.  He hopped back up onto Ian, resuming their previous position, and Ian turned him so that he was up against the wall for some added support.  

Mickey knew where this was going.  Ian was going to fuck him right up against this wall.  Fuck yes.   And unbeknownst to Ian, Mickey was already completely ready for him.  

As Ian reached around to circle Mickey’s hole with his fingers, he pulled himself away from Mickey’s mouth to look at him with wide eyes, “Holy fuck, Mickey, you’re wearing a plug?”

Mickey looked right at him, smirking knowingly, and said, “Yeah, wanted to be ready for you.”

Mickey had done a bit of shopping before their date.  He knew exactly what boots he wanted to get, and they cost a pretty penny, but he thought he could splurge for once.  He made shit wages at the youth center, since it was a paid internship and he was also getting college credits, but he had a lot of money saved, and he had enough financial aid for school and housing that he really didn’t need to pay for much. So he thought, why the fuck not?  After he’d left the shoe store, he passed a sex shop and had another idea.  He’d only been inside one of these stores once before, when he bought a couple of beginner toys just to experiment with putting something in his ass.  He hadn’t been to one since, but he knew what he wanted.  

“Oh my god, you are the fucking sexiest person in the world.  I can’t believe you’re mine,” Ian said as he dove back in to lick into Mickey’s mouth and pulled out the silicone plug. 

“Fuck yeah, I’m yours. Fuckin’ show me, tough guy,” Mickey panted against his lips.

Ian was never one to back down from a challenge.  He was going to fuck the hell out of this man, who he couldn’t believe was the same person who had timidly told him only months ago that he was ready to have sex with him for the first time—to bottom for the first time, to have penetrative sex with a man for the first time.  This man, who wore a plug all night so that he would be open and ready for Ian’s cock, who had his combat boot-clad legs wrapped around his waist like a vice grip, who was begging to be manhandled and fucked.  And if Ian didn’t have a one-track mind at the moment, only thinking about putting his dick in Mickey’s ass, he probably would have cried from being so proud of this man for unapologetically embracing who he was.

Mickey’s hole was lubed up and ready from the plug, but Ian went ahead and spit on his hand for good measure, rubbing it on his dick for a little extra lubrication.  He held onto Mickey and moved him away from the wall just a little so that he could slide him down a few inches, lined up perfectly with Ian’s cock.  Pressing Mickey back up against the wall, and holding onto his hips, he thrust into Mickey’s waiting hole and felt Mickey’s legs tighten around his waist.  

“Fuck, fuck,” Mickey panted as Ian relentlessly pounded him against the wall.  Ian was gripping his hips so tightly so he wouldn’t slide down to the ground, that he was sure there would be bruises there in the morning.  He hoped there would be, at least.  

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.  You’re fucking mine, no one else’s, I’m the only one who gets to have this perfect ass, huh?” Ian couldn’t help what was coming out of his mouth.  Something had taken over.  Maybe it was the music, or the dancing, or Mickey’s naked body with only boots on, or the plug, or just Mickey…or all of it.  

“Yeah, fuckin’ yours, no one else’s.  You’re the only one who gets to have my ass.  No one else.  Ever,” Mickey grunted out between heavy breaths.  

Soon they were panting into each other’s mouths as the pounding of his prostate and the friction of his cock against Ian’s abs made Mickey come without warning, crying out Ian’s name and painting both their torsos.

“Fuck, Mickey, I love you so much, I can’t believe I get to have you.  Fuck, I’m gonna come,” and Ian did, seconds after Mickey, filling Mickey up with his warmth as they both tried to catch their breaths.  Even though Ian’s legs felt like rubber, he managed to carry Mickey over to his bed and lay him down.  He took off Mickey’s boots and went to the bathroom to fetch a towel to clean themselves off, grabbing his meds—and Mickey’s extra ones that he kept at Ian’s apartment—while he was in there.  He took his own meds and handed Mickey a glass of water so he could do the same.  Ian climbed under the covers and pulled them over Mickey’s body as well. As he wrapped himself around Mickey’s body and buried his face in the back of his neck, he heard Mickey say sleepily, “Love you too.  Always.”

Chapter Text

Ian and Mickey were ridiculously in love.  It was actually kind of disgusting, as Mandy insisted on pointing out almost daily.  As they all hung out at Mandy and Mickey’s apartment, watching a marathon of Worst Cooks in America, she loudly cleared her throat and said, “Can you fuckers stop sucking face for two seconds so I can watch this without my dinner coming back up?”

“Fuck off, we’re not sucking face,” Mickey retorted as he flipped her off.  Ian just laughed, because they kind of were sucking face, if he was being honest.  But it was like something had been unleashed the night of the 80’s new wave event.  They were always affectionate with each other before and of course were already deeply in love, but now it was like they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. And the sex…holy shit.  That just kept getting better and better.  And it had always been incredible…but now it was on a whole new level.  Ever since Ian had discovered Mickey’s plug, he took that as a green light to maybe start introducing some toys into the bedroom, and Mickey was absolutely willing. So far, they’d tried some silicone beads, and Ian would never get enough of pleasuring Mickey and seeing him come undone.  

“Um, you definitely were sucking face, so stop it.  You guys are gross,” Mandy said, instantly snapping Ian out of his thoughts of anal beads and Mickey writhing in pleasure.  “Um, sorry Mands,” Ian said sheepishly.

“How’s the grad school search going, Mick?” Mandy asked, hoping that engaging Mickey in conversation would keep him from playing tonsil hockey with Ian for a few minutes at least.

Mickey sighed.  He’d been a bit more stressed as of late—-which Ian was happy to help alleviate in any way he could—-because in order to become a National Certified Counselor, he needed a graduate degree, so he was looking at which graduate programs suited his needs and would be a good fit.  

“Uh, I’ve been looking into The Chicago School, they have a master’s program in clinical mental health counseling.  I’m trying to get in for the fall; if not, then the spring semester.  Also need to find an actual decent-paying job for when I graduate.” 

Ian was so fucking proud of Mickey, he didn’t even have words to express it. As for Ian, he would be going into his final year of college; only one more year until he received his nursing degree and would be able to take the licensure examination.  He would need to decide very soon if he wanted to specialize in something that may require very specific clinical practice and possibly extra certification, like psychiatric mental health nursing.

But for now, he was there to support Mickey in whatever he needed to get through these next few weeks leading up to graduation. 

Mickey was stressed, but happy.  His and Ian’s sex life was off the charts, and he was so in love, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to spend the rest of his life with Ian. 

Things at the youth center were also looking up.  The week that he returned to the youth center after he came out to all of the kids and staff that were present, he could tell that Marcus was much more open with him.  Danny seemed to also be a bit more willing to open up, maybe because he saw the way Mickey had basically opened himself up and shown his authentic self to all of them. A couple of the kids even told him that it really took balls to do what he did.  Mickey didn’t think so; he thought he should’ve done it a long time ago, but he appreciated their support nonetheless.

Zach had finally succeeded in working with social services to get Danny removed from his home permanently and placed with a relative who lived locally—-an aunt on his mother’s side, who had apparently been trying to get him to live with her for awhile now, but she was having trouble cutting through the red tape—-and while Marcus was currently staying with a friend, Zach had been working on pursuing legal action against Marcus’s parents, since they had kicked him out of the house while still a minor. 

Tonight, Mickey had promised one of the kids, Jace, that he would go to his baseball game. He wanted Ian to come with him, but he had an escort gig tonight.  Ian hadn’t been taking many of them lately, only accepting them once in a blue moon, but tonight just happened to be one of those times.

Ian had an escort gig tonight, and he wasn’t excited about it. He really wanted to go to the baseball game with Mickey, but he was trying to save up to do something special for Mickey's graduation, maybe another little getaway, and he wanted to get him a nice gift, too.  

The client tonight was a new one, whom Ian had never had before.  Lately, he’d only been accepting gigs from known clients, like Richard and a couple of others.  But this gig came up, and for some reason it paid double what he usually made.  When clients paid more, it was usually because he was spending a longer amount of time with them.  Sometimes it also meant that there would be sexual favors involved if already agreed upon, but Ian had always made it clear that this was not part of the package with him.  Whatever the reason, though, Ian just couldn’t turn down that kind of money, so he accepted it. 

The client’s name was Lloyd, which seemed familiar, but it was a pretty standard old guy name, so he was sure any sense of familiarity with the name was just a coincidence. 

According to the information he’d received in his booking e-mail, the event was some fancy dinner party, so he needed to put on a suit. Unfortunately, his best suit was the one he had worn to the youth center benefit where Walter had put his hands on him, and he really didn’t want to wear it again, but he didn’t have a nicer one. 

After he put on his suit and did his hair, he looked at himself in the mirror before heading out the door.  The address he’d been given looked to be someone’s home, so he was sure it was some fancy mansion or something. He needed to order an Uber for this one, since it was more of a distance away.

As soon as the car pulled up to his destination, he saw that he was right.  It was indeed a ridiculously huge house, and he mentally prepared himself to chat it up and act interested in what a bunch of rich assholes we’re saying.  

Ian didn’t usually knock on the door at these things, assuming his client would want to meet with him in private first to brief him on anything he needed to know beforehand. He sent his client a message through the escort agency’s secure messaging app letting him know that he’d arrived at the destination, and within just a couple of minutes, a man opened the door and came outside to greet Ian. 

“Ian,” the man said as he approached Ian, who was standing just at the bottom of the porch steps, “or should I say Curtis?”

Ian’s stomach immediately sank upon hearing the alias he’d used in his club days.  And as he looked at this man, he realized that he was indeed familiar.  Blurred images flashed through his mind of the man placing pills on his tongue, cutting up lines of coke laced with god knows what, forcing him to his knees on dirty bathroom floors and in seedy motel rooms.

“What, you don’t remember me? Ned? We had such good times together, Curtis.  When I saw your picture on the escort agency’s website, I knew I had to have you.”

Ned.  Fuck.  Lloyd, otherwise known as Ned.  Ian couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection before.  He was the worst of the worst.  He made it his personal mission to keep Ian completely drugged up so he would do whatever he wanted, including bringing in other men to fuck Ian so that he could watch while he jerked off and then eventually joined in. He later learned that he was the father of the guy his sister Fiona had been dating at the time, which ultimately put the nail in the coffin of that relationship. 

Ian tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat as Ned put his hand on Ian’s cheek and said, “You’re worth every penny, aren’t you? Can’t wait for the after party.  It’ll be just like old times.”

Ian just shook his head, trying to shake off Ned’s touch.  “No,” he managed to croak out, though he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t move.  It was like he was frozen in place. 

Ned just threw his head back and laughed, “Well that’s the first time I ever heard you say that word.  You were always such a good little whore, always doing everything your daddy asked you to do.  All it took was a little nose candy and you were game for anything. Come on, I’m paying good money here, you’re not going to say no to your daddy are you? Of course you’re not.  What else are you good for?”

Suddenly, Ian felt like he couldn’t breathe.  His chest was tight and he felt like everything was closing in around him.  He needed to get out of there. He somehow managed to move his feet, and he just started running, still struggling to get air into his lungs.

He ran and ran as tears streamed down his face.  He didn’t know where he was going, but he just kept running.  And running.  And running.

He finally ended up somewhere—it looked like a park; he saw some benches, a playground, and a pond.  He sat down on the grass and pulled his knees up to his body with his arms wrapped around his legs.  He rested his head on his knees and he tried to get control of his breathing.  He still couldn’t do it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and immediately called the one person he needed right now.  Mickey.

He held the phone to his ear with a trembling hand as it rang and rang until he heard, “Hey, it’s Mickey, leave me a message.”

He tried again as tears continued to blur his vision, and again, he got the same message.  He tried six more times, but it just kept ringing and ringing and ringing.

Fuck.  He knew it.  It was too much.  He was too much.  Too much was wrong with him.  Why would Mickey even want him? What Ned said was true.  Mickey wasn’t answering; he must’ve realized how worthless Ian really was.  Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just wasn’t here anymore. Ian grabbed and pulled his hair to the point of pain, just wanting to feel something, anything. 

Mickey had been at the baseball game for about an hour, and it was the seventh inning stretch, so he figured he’d check his phone to see if he had any messages from Ian.  He’d gone out with some new client who was paying double what they usually paid, so he didn’t have a good feeling about it. When he looked at his phone, his stomach dropped when he saw eight missed calls from Ian.  Fuck. He saw that he had it on silent mode, not vibrate, so he hadn’t even felt it ringing.  

He immediately stood up from the bleachers and started running out of the park towards the street, promptly dialing Ian’s number and holding the phone to his ear.  

It rang twice before he heard Ian answer, “Mickey?” His voice was quiet and shaky.  He sounded like he was crying.

“Ian,” Mickey said, out of breath from running.  “Are you okay?”

“You didn’t answer the phone.  It’s okay, I understand.  I know there’s too much wrong with me.  Who wants some used up piece of trash anyway?”

Mickey’s heart felt like it came to a complete stop when he heard Ian’s words.  Shit, he needed to get to him right the fuck now.  He’d explain to Jace and the kids whenever he saw them next; they’d understand.  Right now, the only thing that mattered was Ian and making sure he was okay.

“Ian, where are you? I’m going to come to you right now, just tell me where you are.”

“Um, I don’t…I don’t know.”

“Ok, what’s nearby? Do you see any places, like restaurants, stores, businesses, anything?”

“I think it’s a park.  But I don’t know where.  I just ran and…,” Mickey heard Ian choke back a sob, not able to finish his sentence.

“Can you send me your location? Like drop me a pin or whatever? You know how to do that?”

“Yeah,” Ian said as he sniffled.

Mickey pulled up his Uber app as he waited for Ian to send his location, and he was relieved to see that there was a car just one minute away.  Once he got the notification that he’d received Ian’s location, he confirmed his Uber, and within seconds, he was in the car.  

He told the driver that he would tip 100% if he could get him there as fast as he could, and they were off.  The location was about twenty minutes away, and Mickey’s leg was bouncing up and down the entire time.  

When the car finally pulled up to the location, he saw that it was indeed a park.  He ran around frantically looking for Ian, until he finally spotted that red hair that he would be able to spot anywhere. He was sitting on the grass with his hands wrapped around his legs, and even from a bit of a distance, he could see his chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths. 

He ran over to him faster than he’d ever run before in his life.  He came to a stop right in front of him, and Ian looked up at him with red, puffy eyes.  Mickey could see that his hands were shaking and he had dried tear tracks on his face. 

“Mickey?” he whispered.

Mickey just sat down next to Ian and pulled him into his arms.  “Yeah.  I’m here, ok?” he said as Ian gripped the back of his shirt and buried his face in his neck. 

“You’re here,” Ian said through a heavy sob. 

“Yeah, I am.  I’m always gonna be here, ok? I’m so fuckin’ sorry that I didn’t answer when you called, my piece of shit phone was on silent and I didn’t even know.”

“I thought…” Ian started, but he couldn’t finish as sobs continued to wrack his body. 

But Mickey knew. “Shh. Don’t ever think that shit, ok? Never.”

They sat there for a few more minutes as Ian cried and held onto Mickey like he would vanish any second.  Mickey’s neck and shirt were wet with tears, but he didn’t care. 

“Ian, what happened?” Mickey asked.

Ian just shook his head against Mickey’s shoulder.  “I…”

“It’s okay.  You don’t have to tell me right now. It’s okay. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Ian nodded and allowed Mickey to help him up.  He was paying out of his ass tonight on Uber fees, but it was the fastest, and right now, that’s what they both needed.  They needed to be home.

When they got into the Uber, they sat there in silence as Ian lay his head on Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey gripped his hand tightly as his mind raced with possibilities of what could’ve happened to Ian.  Whatever or whoever had hurt him, Mickey vowed then and there that he would never let it happen again.

Chapter Text

As soon as they got back to Ian’s apartment, Mickey helped Ian out of his suit, getting him all the way down to his undershirt and boxers before tucking him into bed.  Ever since the Uber ride home, Ian had been staring straight ahead and hadn’t said a word, almost catatonic.  Mickey wondered if he was dissociating.  He’d remained stock-still as Mickey had undressed him and maneuvered him into bed, and was now lying down staring straight up at the ceiling.  He managed to get Ian to take his meds by placing them in his mouth and holding the glass of water to his lips.  He then undressed and climbed into bed next to Ian.  He pulled him close and lay Ian’s head on his chest, rubbing his fingers up and down his back.  Nothing was said, and no more tears were shed.  Ian just continued to stare until his eyelids finally became heavy and he fell asleep.

Mickey still had no idea what happened to Ian, but every possibility that ran through his mind filled him with more and more rage.  Had this client crossed the line, put his hands on Ian?  All he knew was that he wanted to kill the motherfucker who had hurt him.  

And what upset him even more was the state that Ian was in when he found him.  He sounded so defeated, so similar to the way he’d sounded when he first called the crisis line.  And Mickey hadn’t answered the phone when Ian called.  He could fucking kick himself for that.  Mickey knew that he wouldn’t get any sleep, as he lay awake thinking of how he’d failed Ian and how much worse it could’ve been if he hadn’t gotten to Ian when he did.

When Ian woke up, his head was pounding and his eyelids were so heavy that he almost couldn’t even open them.  It took him a minute to get his bearings, but soon enough his senses slowly began to clock his surroundings.  He felt warmth against his cheek and the steady rise and fall of the solid chest beneath it, as well as a hand on his back.  He would always be able to recognize that touch and who it belonged to. He heard the sound of steady breathing. He inhaled and smelled the distinct smell of Mickey.  His eyes focused on tattooed knuckles and pale skin.  He instinctively tightened his grip on Mickey’s waist, realizing all at once that he was safe.

That little bit of movement must have alerted Mickey to the fact that Ian was awake, because as soon as Ian tightened his arm around Mickey’s waist, he felt the press of lips to the top of his head and heard that familiar voice say, “Hey.  You awake?”  

Ian managed a tiny nod of his head, but that was about all he could muster up.  He absently wondered what time it was and how long Mickey had been awake.  Suddenly, memories of the previous evening came back to him.  He remembered Ned, and then running and running, and sitting down in a park, and calling Mickey over and over, and…

And then he remembered Mickey.  He came for him.  He was there.  He remembered the feeling of relief and safety that washed over him as soon as he saw him.  But he didn’t remember anything after that.  He couldn’t remember leaving the park, or how they’d gotten home, or how he’d gotten into bed.  And right now, he just felt numb. 

He lay right there with his head on Mickey’s chest, just staring straight ahead and feeling Mickey’s hand continue to rub up and down his back, for a few minutes before Mickey began to stir.  “Gotta take a piss, ok?  Be right back.”  He felt Mickey gently lift his head off of his chest and place it on the pillow.  Mickey got out of bed, and he missed his warmth immediately.  But he still felt disconnected from his body, even when he had Mickey’s touch to ground him in the present. 

He tried to locate sounds in an attempt to further ground himself and reconnect with the present moment.  He heard the toilet flushing in the bathroom, and then the door opening and closing.  He heard footsteps on the laminate flooring, the running of water, and some rustling of kitchen items.  He could hear Mickey’s voice talking to someone, but he didn’t hear another voice.  A few minutes later, Mickey came back into the room with a glass of water and a slice of toast on a plate.  

“Hey,” Mickey said as he grabbed Ian’s pill organizer off of the nightstand and placed the toast and glass of water down.  “Sorry I took a little bit longer, I figured since I was up that I’d get you somethin’ to eat so you don’t get sick from your meds.”

Ian just stared at Mickey as he felt a tear slip out of his eye and down his cheek.  Mickey held the pills out for him and Ian took them, going through the motions of putting them in his mouth and swallowing them down with water.  Mickey handed him the toast and he obediently took a bite, but he couldn’t eat any more.  Mickey then climbed into bed again and lay down next to Ian, pulling him close once again and resuming the calming and grounding strokes of his fingers on his back.  

Mickey was so worried that he couldn’t even put it into words.  He could tell that Ian was dissociating, that something traumatic enough had occurred to make him detach from his emotions.  And it scared him.  Just like with Ian’s bipolar, Mickey could learn all about this shit in his classes and read about it in textbooks, but when it was happening to someone he loved, someone who really was his whole entire world, it was completely different and nothing could prepare him for it.  

While he was in the kitchen getting something to eat for Ian, he had called Mickey’s psychiatrist and therapist, Dr. Harper.  Ian had given written permission back when he resumed consistent therapy sessions to share any information with Mickey if it was needed, and Mickey had done the same with his own therapist.  He told Dr. Harper that something had happened to Ian and it seemed like he was dissociating.  Dr. Harper asked if Mickey would be able to bring Ian into the office, but Mickey doubted that he would be able to get him out of bed.  She gave Mickey some grounding techniques to use with Ian, and she said that she would try to FaceTime with him later that day to see if anything had improved.  She also told Mickey that she wanted Ian to come in tomorrow if he couldn’t get him into the office today, and she would clear her calendar whenever he was able to get him there.  

Right now, it looked like Ian was drifting back to sleep, so he figured he would attempt to take a shower and get dressed. He hadn’t slept a wink last night; he just lay awake worrying about Ian and rubbing his back over and over again.  He definitely needed more coffee, and he decided he would call Mandy to let her know what was going on before he got into the shower.  

The phone only rang twice before Mandy answered. “Hey assface, everything okay?”

He understood why she would ask.  They rarely called each other, especially nowadays, when it was assumed that he would obviously be at Ian’s if he wasn’t home.  

“Uh, actually, no, not really,” Mickey said, emotions all of a sudden hitting him as his voice came out shakily.

“What happened?” Mandy asked, her voice now laced with concern.

“I don’t really know.  Something happened at Ian’s escort gig last night, but I don’t know what.  He called me in really bad shape, he was at some park and I took him home and now I’m pretty sure he’s dissociating.  Was last night too.”

“Shit,” Mandy breathed out.  “Did you call his therapist?”

“Yeah, she wants me to bring him in, but I know I won’t be able to get him outta bed any time soon.”

“Yeah, ok.  I’m not working today, so I’ll come over.  Maybe I can at least help so he’s not alone if you need to get anything done.”

“Ok.  I’m just gonna take a shower, so I’ll leave the door unlocked and you can just come in.”

“Ok, see you soon.”

*

When Mickey came out of the shower, he could hear Mandy’s voice.  He dried off and threw on some clothes before opening the bathroom door and seeing Mandy curled up in bed with Ian.  He looked to be somewhat awake, but not completely, as his eyes slowly blinked open and closed.  Mandy had her head on Ian’s chest as he lay flat on his back, and she was talking to him, whether he was listening or not.  It was quite a sight to see.  Ian and Mandy had become really close, so he knew that she was almost as worried about Ian as he was.  And right now, he was again struck with such a sense of gratitude for his sister.  

“You know it’s your birthday soon, right?”, he heard Mandy say. “Can’t have you all laid up in bed on your birthday.  We’ve got some celebrating to do with a bunch of loud Gallaghers, don’t we?” 

Ian just continued to blink his eyes slowly as he looked at the ceiling.  He then noticed that Ian’s hand moved to touch Mandy’s arm, which was resting against his waist.  

Mickey walked over and sat next to them on the bed, thinking about Mandy’s words.  She was right; Ian’s birthday was coming up, and they were supposed to go back to the south side to celebrate with Ian’s family.  He wasn’t sure what would happen now, but he hoped that Ian would be okay by then.

Ian’s birthday fell during final exam week, with graduation the following week, so the celebration was scheduled for the weekend before finals, which as it was, happened to be only a week from today.  

He had already gotten Ian’s birthday present, a watch that he knew Ian had his eye on for a while.  He’d even had the back of it inscribed with the very same inscription that was on Mickey’s bracelet: “10.15 ❤️”.  He knew Ian liked sappy shit like that, and if Mickey was being completely honest, he’d turned into a bit of a sap himself; he couldn’t help it.  

But now, with everything so up in the air, he hoped that Ian would actually be able to celebrate his 22nd birthday the way they’d planned.

*

Nothing really changed for the rest of the day.  Mickey had ended up turning on the TV and adjusting it so that it was facing the bed, and the three of them watched an Iron Chef marathon.  Well, he wasn’t sure how much Ian was really watching, but Mickey and Mandy were attempting to provide plenty of commentary in the hopes that Ian might engage.  As it was, however, Ian just seemed to be staring blankly at the TV the whole time, while both Mickey and Mandy, who flanked him on either side, continued to rub his arms and hold his hands with the hopes that the touches would help ground him.  

After Mandy had left that evening, with the promise of coming back if Mickey needed her, Dr. Harper was scheduled to FaceTime to check in on Ian.  Not much had changed since Mickey had talked to her this morning, but he figured Dr. Harper could see for herself.  

When she called, Mickey held the phone as Ian just stared at it.  He seemed to register that Dr. Harper was talking to him, but the only reaction he showed was a slight nod here and there.  After she talked to Ian, she made Mickey promise to bring him to the office tomorrow if he was able to get out of bed.  Mickey promised that he would.

Flashing lights. Sweaty bodies all around him.  He opened his mouth for the pill being placed on his tongue and snorted the lines that were cut for him.  The euphoria hit him immediately.  Then he woke up.  A motel room with yellowed curtains.  An aching sensation throughout his body, dried cum on his thighs and a bitter taste in his mouth.  His head pounding, the smell of vomit filling the room and making his stomach lurch.  He didn’t know where he would go, but he showered under the minuscule water pressure of the disgusting motel room, got dressed, grabbed his backpack, and wandered the streets. He just kept going, not knowing where, but he just kept walking.

Running, running, running.  He didn’t know where he was going, but he needed to get away.  The feel of the grass beneath him.  A voice.  ‘I’m here.  I’m always gonna be here.’ Mickey. Mickey.

“Mickey!” Ian screamed as he jolted awake, sitting straight up in bed.  His skin prickled with goosebumps, and cold beads of sweat covered his forehead.  He couldn’t catch his breath.  He tried, but he couldn’t.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here, I’m right here, you’re safe,” he heard that voice again.  The voice that made everything okay.  He felt the touch on his hand, he felt his own hand on Mickey’s chest.

“Breathe with me, ok?” He felt Mickey’s chest moving up and down under his hand, and he tried to match his breathing.  He was able to breathe now.  He grasped onto Mickey tightly, not wanting to let go.  “Don’t leave me,” Ian whispered.

“I’m not gonna leave you, ever. You know that I couldn’t live without you, right?  Do you know that?”

Ian just cried onto Mickey’s shoulder as he held him.  He remembered Mickey bringing him home, putting him to bed, giving him his meds, and staying with him all day.  He remembered that Mandy had been there, too. He kept telling himself that he was safe.  

*

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he was able to pull himself away from Mickey.  They’d both been sitting up in bed, locked in a gripping embrace, and Ian finally pulled himself away so that they could lie down and be a bit more comfortable.  Ian resumed his previous position, lying his head on Mickey’s chest.

He could hear Mickey’s heart beating, and he felt his chest moving up and down with his breathing.  He was here, he was real, he wasn’t leaving.

“Um, the client…the other night…it was…someone from my past.  From the really bad time in my life.  He was one of the worst ones.  And, uh, he just said some stuff…” Ian started before having to choke back a sob.

“What’s his name?  I’ll fuckin’ kill him,” Mickey said as Ian felt the rise and fall of his chest get faster and faster.

Ian just shook his head.  “Just…all that shit came back to me, you know?  And then when you didn’t answer I started to get intrusive thoughts again…”

“God, Ian, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. You know that I would never do that to you, right?  I wouldn’t ever ignore you like that on purpose.  My fuckin’ phone…” Mickey trailed off, and Ian could hear his voice trembling.

“I know, Mickey. I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to think rationally.  And then I guess I just completely shut down. I don’t even know. But you brought me back.”

Mickey just kissed the top of his head and continued to trace circles on his back.

“I think, um…I think I’m done with escorting.  Just…I don’t want to do it anymore.  And next school year I’m gonna have clinical rotations and everything, I won’t have time anyway.  It’s just not something I want to do anymore.”

“As long as it’s your choice. I’m always gonna support you no matter what.”

And Ian knew that it was the truth.  He knew Mickey was always going to be there for him, he knew this deep down to the depths of his soul.  He drifted off to sleep with the warmth of Mickey’s body keeping him present, and while he had a hard time getting out of bed the next day, he managed to drag himself up for long enough to go and see Dr. Harper.  Mickey joined him, per Ian’s request.  He wanted him there with him, not sitting in the waiting room.  After he got home, he e-mailed the escort agency and let them know that he was quitting.  He got right back into bed after that, and even though it took another couple of days, he was eventually back to himself. 

Chapter Text

Mickey was stressed as fuck.  His anxiety was through the roof, despite consistently taking his meds.  Ian’s birthday party was tomorrow, on the south side, at the fucking Alibi Room, which was frequented by his piece of shit dad whenever he was out of prison—thankfully Terry was locked up, or there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of Mickey even getting near the place—and then finals were the following week, and the week after that was graduation. Holy shit, everything felt like it was happening all at once, and it was so overwhelming.  Mickey was still looking for a job that would pay the bills after he graduated, and one that would be flexible enough for Mickey to take his graduate coursework at the Chicago School, which he would hopefully be starting in the fall.  

Luckily, he’d taken care of Ian’s gift a while ago, and he felt prepared for his final exams.  He didn’t feel like there was any more studying he could possibly do at this point.  It was really just a matter of getting it over with.  Mickey wasn’t in danger of failing any of his classes, so graduation was a guarantee at this point, but it was just a lot of stuff all at once. 

Ian was back to himself, and now that he’d quit escorting, he seemed to be a bit lighter.  It could’ve been because it was one less thing to do and it allowed him a bit more free time, but whatever the reason, Mickey would take it.  Ian had sensed Mickey’s stress earlier that evening and had given him a massage, which started innocently enough before it ended with Ian rimming the ever-loving fuck out of him and making him come all over the duvet cover.  

After Mickey had returned the favor by sucking Ian’s dick like the world was ending, they both lay in bed completely sated and boneless.  Mickey was ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.

The next day, Ian woke up in his favorite position: spooning Mickey from behind, his cock right in its favorite place, up against Mickey’s ass.  

“Mmmm, happy birthday party day,” Mickey said. Ian’s actual 22nd birthday wasn’t until Friday, but today was the party that the Gallaghers had planned at the Alibi.  

“Thanks.  Do I get your ass as a present?” Ian said as he continued to thrust his morning wood in between Mickey’s ass cheeks. 

“Fuck yeah, you do.  Get on me already,” Mickey said as he pulled his boxers down and Ian did the same.  They stayed in that position, and once Ian had applied some lube to his dick and Mickey’s hole, which was still sufficiently stretched from the explosive rimjob he’d received last night, Ian slid right in and fucked Mickey from behind.  They didn’t often fuck in spooning position, but Ian loved it.  He loved the closeness that he felt, the ability to kiss the back of Mickey’s neck and bite his shoulder, the feeling of being wrapped around him completely, their bodies touching from head to toe.  

After only a few minutes, Ian was filling Mickey up and Mickey was coming all over Ian’s hand wrapped around his dick, both moaning “I love you.”

After reluctantly prying themselves out of bed, showering, and getting dressed, they grabbed coffee and a quick breakfast before heading out with Mandy, who was of course coming along with them.  It was Ian’s birthday party, and of course he was going to invite Mandy.  It was much more typical these days for Mickey to spend the night at Ian’s place, but since they were all going to the south side together in the morning, it made more sense for Ian to stay over at Mandy and Mickey’s place the night before.  

After an hour-long ride on the L, they walked from the train stop to the Gallagher house, where they hung out for a bit before heading to the Alibi Room.  

The whole crew walked the short distance to the dive bar, which was also unfortunately frequented by Ian’s father—uncle?—Frank, who Ian desperately hoped wouldn’t be there.  Their neighbors and good friends, Kev and V, owned the bar, so it was always sort of a go-to for special occasions.  Ian actually hadn’t been there in quite a while, so he thought it would be nice to go back.  He could see Mickey’s anxiety ramping up, and he knew why.  Mickey had told him how the Alibi had also been one of Terry’s favorite places to cause trouble when he wasn’t in prison, and even though Terry was currently locked up, he knew that it had a lot of negative associations for him.  

Currently present were all of the Gallaghers minus Fiona, who couldn’t make it out from Florida, and the littles—Franny was being watched by Liam, who, as a preteen, was apparently babysitting age by Gallagher standards, and Freddie was with Tami’s parents.  Amid the loud voices of all of the Gallaghers talking at once about god knows what, Ian heard Lip suddenly addressing Mickey.

“Mick, I’m surprised you decided to come, with Terry being out of prison and all.”

Suddenly, he saw all of the color drain from Mickey’s face as he stopped dead in his tracks, and Mandy looked the exact same way. They were on their way into the bar at that exact moment, and as the rest of the crowd went inside, Mickey, Mandy, Ian, and Lip stopped right outside the front door.  

“What the fuck are you talking about, Lip?” Ian spat, deciding that he was going to have to ask the questions, as Mickey and Mandy seemed unable to speak at the moment.  

“I just heard through the rumor mill that he was out, compassionate release or some shit. I guess he’s dying or something?  I assumed that you guys knew.  Don’t they notify families with stuff like that?” Lip said, clearly having no idea of the terror that he was currently unleashing in both Mickey and Mandy.  

“They didn’t tell us anything.  What the fuck,” Mandy said in almost a whisper.  Then she continued, “But you know what?  Fuck that asshole.  We’re here to celebrate Ian, and I’m not going to let that asshole ruin shit like he’s done for our entire lives.” With that, Mandy turned indignantly and walked through the door into the bar.

Mickey, however, was not nearly as confident.  His face was almost grey, and he looked like he was going to be sick any second.  “Just go inside, Lip. We need a minute, ok?” Ian said as Lip shrugged his shoulders and went inside.

“Mickey, are you ok? You look like you’re going to be sick.  Do you need to get to a bathroom?”

Mickey just shook his head silently. After a beat, he finally spoke. “No.  Let’s just go inside.  I don’t wanna ruin your birthday.” 

Ian wanted to tell him that he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday with Mickey feeling scared and sick, that there was no way he’d ever sacrifice Mickey’s sense of safety just for a stupid birthday party. Mickey’s wellbeing was so much more important to him.  But before he could say any of that, Mickey headed into the bar.  

Mickey drank beer after beer, trying to forget that he ever heard the words that Lip had spoken.  Terry was out? Compassionate release?  Dying?  Well the third part was good, but the rest?  He still couldn’t quite comprehend what was even going on, but if he continued to drink, he wouldn’t have to worry about thinking or comprehending anything.  He just wanted to be shitfaced and to not think.  But he also didn’t want to ruin Ian’s party.  So he tried to get as drunk as possible without becoming sloppy, stupid, and belligerent.  

He knew that Ian was worried about him; he obviously could see how much he was drinking and he knew exactly why.  So he’d been staying close to Mickey the entire time, little touches and hand squeezes grounding him and giving him reassurance. He was on the south side, but he didn’t give a shit anymore if Ian held his hand in front of everyone.  He was done hiding.

Ian was doing the same with Mandy, checking in with her every so often to make sure she was okay, and Mickey loved him for it.  He really wanted to check in with his sister, to make sure she was okay, but right now he was on a mission to numb himself.  

A couple of hours passed before it was apparently time to bring out the cake and sing “Happy Birthday” to the birthday boy, the love of his life.  He had a good buzz going now, well on his way to being hammered, but definitely not there yet.  He was just tipsy enough to unashamedly sport a goofy smile as he watched the man he loved try to blow out twenty-two candles in one breath and fail miserably.  

As Ian had pointed out many times before, Mickey was very affectionate when he was buzzed.  And right now, Ian looked so fucking sexy eating cake, licking the frosting off of the fork, that he just needed to kiss him.  When Ian joined him at the bar and sat in the stool right next to him, his piece of cake in tow, Mickey saw a little speck of frosting on his lip and he decided to lean in and lick it off.  That quickly turned into a heated kiss, and he heard a bunch of Gallaghers yelling at them to get a room.  Mickey flipped them off as he continued to lick into Ian’s mouth, tasting the remnants of frosting on his tongue. 

Ian started feeding Mickey bites of cake and they continued to steal kisses in between bites.  He was sure they were disgusting to watch, but again, he didn’t give a shit.  And this was when he felt a gust of wind as the door opened and heard a voice that he hoped to never hear again as long as he lived, a voice that made his blood run cold and sobered him up in seconds flat. 

“Well if it isn’t my faggot-ass, pathetic excuse for a son.  I’m not even out for two days before I see your disgusting fudge-packing queer ass putting your filthy shit on display in front of everyone with some fuckin’ twink.”

It was then that Mickey turned around to face the menacing voice, the voice of his nightmares.  There was Terry, standing by the door, flanked on either side by two of his piece of shit uncles.  It was Terry,  but he looked like hell.  He almost looked like a different person.  He was gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the pallor of his skin a yellowish hue.  He didn’t look like the man that Mickey had been scared of all his life; he looked small, not powerful in any way, shape, or form. 

Mickey stood up from his stool and walked right up to Terry, as everyone in the bar just looked on, stock-still.  It was so quiet in there that you could hear a pin drop.  When he was just inches from Terry’s face, he realized that he wasn’t scared of him anymore. Terry had his two henchmen with him, but Mickey had all of these people behind him to back him up, and he knew it.

Mickey finally spoke. “The fuck are you doin’ out, Terry?”

“Compassionate release, got fuckin’ heart and liver failure. Got out just in time to see what a fuckin’ disappointment you’ve always been and always will be,” Terry said before spitting right in Mickey’s face.

Mickey just laughed and wiped the disgusting wetness from his face.  “Know what? It couldn’t have happened to a bigger piece of shit.  And guess what? You’re right, I am a fucking faggot.  And you say what you want about me, but you let one thing about him leave your fuckin’ mouth and it’ll be the last thing you say, trust me,” he said as he gestured towards Ian. 

Mickey wasn’t finished yet, though.  He got so close to Terry’s face that he could smell his foul breath, and he was actually surprised that his uncles weren’t trying anything.  Like everyone else, they were just staring. “Know what else? I fucking take it.  He gives it to me good and hard and I fuckin’ love it.  And I suck his dick.  He’s fuckin’ big, ya know? I had to practice a lot to deep throat it, but I think I finally got it down.  I’m pretty fuckin’ good at it, actually. Right, Ian?” Mickey looked at Ian, who just nodded with wide eyes, in complete shock. 

Mickey could see the rage fill Terry’s eyes, as his whole face turned beet red and that familiar snarl made its way to his lips.  It was almost like an out of body experience.  That look of pure rage would’ve filled Mickey with terror before, but now it just filled him with satisfaction.  

“You fucking piece of shit faggot, you’re a fucking embarrassment, you’re not my son, no son of mine is gonna be a fucking AIDS monkey…”  But Terry’s rampage was over as soon as it began.  Before he was able to finish his hate-filled rant, he suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed onto the floor.

Mickey just stood over him, watching as the life left his eyes. And in just an instant, Mickey was finally free. 

Ian came up behind Mickey and wrapped him in his arms.  Mickey completely collapsed against Ian, sobs suddenly wracking his entire body.  They were sobs of sadness for his past, for the boy who had to fight to survive every fucking day, for the boy who was forced to live in shame of who he was, who was forced to do the unthinkable because of it.  And they were sobs of relief.  Unthinkable, unimaginable relief, like he’d never felt before. 

Seconds later, he felt another set of arms wrap around both of them.  Mandy.  “He’s gone.  He’s finally gone,” she whispered.  He turned and pulled Mandy into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said, “He’s fucking gone.”

Chapter Text

Mickey woke up in Ian’s childhood bed, with Ian’s arm draped across his waist.  He looked down and saw that Ian was still wearing the watch that he had given him for his birthday, after everything went down, confirming that yesterday was indeed real.  It actually happened.  Holy shit, Terry was dead.  

Mickey replayed yesterday’s events over again in his head.  After he had pulled himself from Ian and Mandy’s arms and the sobbing had subsided, Mickey had just wanted to get the hell out of there.  He didn’t want to deal with his pussy uncles, who’d just stood there the whole time, and he didn’t care to see the ambulance coming to haul off Terry’s body.  He didn’t give a shit what happened to his body; they could throw him into the ocean and use him as shark food for all he cared.  He’d gotten the hell out of there, and of course Ian and Mandy had promptly followed. The rest of the Gallaghers lingered for a bit before finally joining them.

As soon as they’d gotten back to the Gallagher house, they headed upstairs to Ian’s old room, where Mickey had gone ahead and given Ian his gift.  As expected, Ian teared up as he saw the engraving on the back, which matched the one on Mickey’s bracelet.  

They hadn’t even planned on spending the night at the house; they were originally going to head back home after the party.  But none of them were in the mood to sit on the L for an hour after everything that had happened.  They just wanted to lie down and sleep.  And that’s exactly what they did.

Now, however, it was morning and they needed to head back.  Mickey had a shit show of a week ahead of him, and he couldn’t believe that Terry had dropped dead right in front of him the weekend before his final exams, right before his last week at the youth center, and just over a week before he and Mandy were both set to graduate from college.  His timing was impeccable as always.  But really, if anything, it actually made him feel lighter, like a weight had been lifted, and he was sure that Mandy felt the same.

So after showering, getting dressed, having a quick breakfast and saying goodbye to the Gallaghers, Mickey, Mandy, and Ian headed home.

Ian still couldn’t believe everything that had happened.  He couldn’t do anything but look on in shock as Mickey stood up to Terry and unabashedly told him who he was and what he liked.  He was so fucking proud of him in that moment.  He showed no fear, and he was strong as fuck.  And then Terry had dropped dead.  It was surreal, and he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. 

But Mickey seemed lighter.  Like one more thing that had been weighing him down was now gone.  And he knew that Terry’s existence was the biggest thing that had been weighing him down for his entire life.  So it made sense that he was so much lighter now that Terry was gone.  He could see the difference in Mandy, too.

There was one more thing on Ian’s mind, though.  Mickey had mentioned a couple of weeks ago that something had come up in therapy.  His therapist, Dr. Ricci, could see that Mickey still had so many unresolved feelings regarding the attack that Terry had forced him to participate in back when he was seventeen years old. These unresolved feelings included shame, guilt, and even self-hatred.  She had suggested trying to reach out to the victim, Aaron.  Ian had worked with Aaron at the White Swallow, so he was pretty sure that he would be able to get his contact information from one of his old co-workers.  

Mickey hadn’t explicitly asked him to do it, but the fact that he had shared this information with Ian made him think that it was okay for him to at least try to obtain Aaron’s contact information.  

Ian wanted to approach Mickey and ask him about it, but he was so stressed with final exams, graduation coming up, his last week at the youth center, trying to find a job, and trying to get into graduate classes in the fall, that he didn’t want to add to that stress.  Ian had ultimately, through just a couple of phone calls to some of his old co-workers whose numbers he still had saved in his phone, been able to get Aaron’s number.  He didn’t think there would be any harm in calling him; nothing more had to happen, but there was nothing wrong with opening up the lines of communication.  

Mickey was sitting on the couch studying for his very last final exam when Ian walked into his apartment.  He had a sheepish look on his face, and Mickey couldn’t pinpoint it. He almost looked…guilty? But he couldn’t imagine why.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Gallagher?” Mickey said skeptically.

Ian approached and sat down next to him on the couch.  “Do you promise not to be mad?”

“Well, when you put it that way…You’re kind of freakin’ me out, what happened?”

“I know you didn’t actually ask me to, but I contacted Aaron.  You know, the guy–”

“Yeah, I know who it is,” Mickey snapped, before calming down and continuing, “Sorry, I just didn’t really want to think about that right now.”

“I know, but I thought it would take some of your stress away if I did that for you.  I was able to get his number from someone I used to work with.  I wasn’t even going to say anything about you to him, was just going to kind of catch up, but we weren’t really close friends or anything.  I didn’t even have his phone number.  So he could tell that there must’ve been a reason that I was calling, and it wasn’t just to make small talk.  I ended up sort of telling him that I knew you and what had happened.  Told him how you were forced to do it by your homophobic prick of a father and that not a day goes by that you don’t think about it and wish you could take it back. He obviously didn’t really want to talk about it, which is completely understandable.  I asked him if he would be willing to maybe talk to you at some point, and he said that he didn’t think he would want to do that, but he thinks that he might be able to forgive you in the future. Um, anyway, he’s doing really good now.  He’s married and has a daughter, so…just thought you might like to know that.”

Mickey just looked at him in complete shock, a single tear sliding down his cheek.  He didn’t even know what to say.  He wanted to be pissed off that Ian had called Aaron without telling him first, but who was he kidding?  He wouldn’t have been able to do it himself.  He’d just gotten as much closure as he figured he was ever going to get, and it was all thanks to Ian.  Just hearing that the guy was okay, that he was happy in his life, and that he might even be able to forgive Mickey; that’s really all he needed to hear.  

He cleared his throat and said, “Th-thank you.  For doing that.  I don’t even know what to say right now.   I’m just happy that he’s okay, and…and I just really love you, ya know?”  He again marveled at his luck.  What had he ever done in his life to deserve this man?  He would probably never know, but he was thankful every single fucking day for it.  

Ian just reached over and pulled Mickey into a tight embrace.  They stayed like that for several minutes, before Ian said, “Are you done studying?  I want to take you somewhere.  Somewhere I think will be good for both of us.”

Mickey eyed Ian suspiciously.  “What do you have up your sleeve, Gallagher?”

“Something that I think we both need. To reclaim our pasts.  To tell our pasts to fuck off and that they don’t define us anymore.”

He pulled Mickey off of the couch and said, “Change into something nice,” as he went into Mickey’s closet and pulled out some of his own clothes to change into.  

*

An hour-long ride on the L later, and they were in Boystown, with Ian dragging Mickey straight for one of the clubs.  

“The fuck, Ian, I have a final tomorrow for fuck’s sake, I can’t be out clubbing!” Mickey said incredulously.

“We’re not going to stay out late.  Just have a little fun and leave.  I wanna stand in the middle of the club and dance with you.  Maybe make out with you a little.  Show everyone what a hot piece of ass my boyfriend is, make everyone jealous.”

“I think you’re getting confused, Red.  I’m the one they’ll all be jealous of.  Fuckin’ look at you,” Mickey said as he took him in with his eyes from top to bottom, gazing at him hungrily. 

Ian leaned in and kissed Mickey on the lips—and not a polite kiss, either.  Mickey went along with it more than willingly.  They were in Boystown.  Terry was dead.  Fuck it.  He was going to kiss the fuck out of his boyfriend, and he didn’t give a shit who was around.  

Suddenly, Mickey stopped and pulled away, looking hesitant. “Wait, we’re not going to the White Swallow, are we?”

“No, that’s a little too close to the mark, we don’t need to dredge up that many memories.  Let’s go to the Fairy Tale.”

And they did.

As soon as they entered the club, the flashing lights assaulted Ian’s senses, and his anxiety immediately spiked.  Memories of drug-fueled fucking and blowjobs in secluded corners and on dirty bathroom floors threatened to assault him, but he felt Mickey squeezing his hand and he was brought back to the present.  He was here with Mickey.  He was safe, so fucking safe because this man was with him; not just with him here in this club, at this moment in time, but with him in all ways, forever.  

They immediately headed for the bar and grabbed a couple of drinks before Ian was pulling Mickey onto the dance floor.  “Before you try to say you don’t dance, I’m going to remind you that you danced with me at New Wave Nite and you were fucking incredible. So let’s go.”

Mickey’s protests died on his tongue as he heard Ian’s words.  Ian  was right; he’d seen him dance, and Mickey had to admit that it was one of the best times of his life.

As soon as they got onto the dance floor, they found themselves in the same position they’d danced in that night; Ian behind Mickey, pressed all the way up against him, his hands on his waist.  Before long, they were swaying, moving their hips, grinding sensually against each other as Mickey leaned his head back against Ian’s shoulder and reached his arm up to grab the back of Ian’s head.

He felt Ian’s hot breath as he said right into his ear, loud enough so he would be heard over the music, “Fucking look at you.  You are the sexiest person in this whole entire place.  I can’t fucking believe I found you.  How did I get so lucky?”

Suddenly, Mickey couldn’t take it anymore.  He turned around and grabbed the back of Ian’s head with both hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss.  He tried to say everything he could with that kiss. That no, it was the other way around, he was the lucky one.  That he couldn’t believe that he’d found Ian.  That Ian was not only the sexiest, most gorgeous human being in this club, but in the whole entire world.  That he loved him with every single fiber of his being and never wanted to live without him.  

Their tongues tangled and their hands wandered, and they were doing this.  They were full-on making out, sucking face, playing tonsil hockey, whatever term he could think of to describe it, both hard as fuck in their pants, practically dry humping, in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by people, in a gay club no less.  A gay club called the Fairy Tale.  There really couldn’t have been a bigger “fuck you” to Terry, and Mickey hoped with everything he had that Terry was looking up from the flames of hell and watching everything.  God, he could only hope.

*

They only lasted so long at the club. They’d worked each other up so much that they had to have each other.  They had escaped to the bathroom stall for quick handjobs just to take the edge off, because they knew they wouldn’t last the ride home any other way.  When they got back to Ian’s apartment, though, all bets were off.  Mickey got the pounding of his life, bent over the back of the couch as soon as they walked into the apartment.  They hadn’t even gotten their shirts off.  

Afterwards, as they collapsed into bed, Mickey, for the first time maybe ever, wasn’t worried about anything. He wasn’t thinking about his final exam tomorrow, he wasn’t thinking about jobs, about grad school, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about Terry.  He was just thinking about how fucking happy he was. And that was, for the first time in his life, the only thing that was on his mind. 

Chapter Text

The next day, after Mickey was finished with his last final exam of his undergraduate career, which he knew he fucking nailed, he headed over to the youth center for his last day.  He was actually really fucking bummed about it. He was going to miss the kids.  He’d really formed a bond with them, especially Danny and Marcus.  But knowing that Zach had been working hard on both of their cases gave him some comfort.  

As soon as he walked in, Zach summoned him into his office.

“Mickey, have a seat,” Zach said after closing the office door.

Mickey sat down, assuming that Zach was just going to give him his feedback from the past semester and a half, which he would also share with his fieldwork coordinator.  But what he said next was not at all what he expected. 

“So Mickey, I hope you know how invaluable your work here has been for the past few months.  You were here for about six months in total, and I really feel like you helped change some of the kids’ lives.  I’ve seen such a huge difference in Danny and Marcus especially, and I know they’ve gotten really close with you and have grown to trust you. I’m also really fucking proud of the growth that I’ve seen in you.  You’ve really come into your own, and you’re so much more comfortable in your skin than you were when you first started.  I’m confident that you will make an exceptional behavioral counselor and you’ll go on to change a lot of people’s lives.”

Mickey just nodded, feeling his eyes start to sting. 

“I’m so confident, in fact, that I want to offer you a full-time position as an entry-level junior counselor.  Obviously you need to complete your graduate coursework and take the National Counselor Examination to become certified, but I’d love for you to continue with us while you work towards that.  This is a fully paid position, with benefits and everything.  And I know you’ll be in grad school, so we can be flexible with the hours and work around your school schedule.”

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat and willed the tears filling his eyes to stay at bay. He wasn’t going to cry like some little bitch right here in Zach’s office.  Instead, he nodded and said, “Um, wow.  That’s…thank you, Zach.  For everything.  I don’t even know what to say.  I mean, yes, obviously I’ll take the position.”

“Good.  Welcome aboard, officially,” Zach said as he reached out and shook Mickey’s hand. After a beat of silence, Zach cleared his throat and said, “Um, I hope I’m not out of line here, but I heard about your dad.  If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here.  I know I’m not your therapist or anything, but I’ve seen a lot in my line of work.”

“Well my dad was a piece of shit, so there’s really nothing to say except I hope he’s burning in hell.”

Zach just nodded, completely unfazed by Mickey’s words.  “Mickey, I debated for a long time whether or not I should tell you this, but I used to work for the Department of Child and Family Services, so I know all about your dad.  I used to do home visits and welfare checks, and we came into your home quite a few times.  And I, uh, remember you.”

Mickey looked at Zach wide-eyed, still trying to comprehend what he was saying.  “What?” he said in almost a whisper.

“Yeah.  I remember coming into your home.  I remember you and your sister and brothers.  Your brothers were quite a bit older, but you and your sister—you were just little kids.  I especially remember you. You tried to act so tough, but you were so small and there was so much fear in your eyes.  You had so many bruises all over your body, and I could never get your face out of my mind.  It stayed with me all these years later, and as soon as I saw you, I knew you were that little boy.”

Mickey continued to stare at Zach, but now there were tears streaming down his face, completely unbidden.  “What the fuck…why didn’t you do anything?  Why didn’t you get us out of there? Fuck,” Mickey said as he angrily wiped the tears from his face.

“God, Mickey, you don’t even know how much I tried.  We were blocked so many times by the courts, all the red tape, but one time I finally succeeded in getting you guys out of there.  I’m sure you remember.  I thought we’d found the perfect foster parents for you and your sister—I think your brothers were in juvie at the time—but your dad was somehow able to get you back.  I still don’t know how he did it, and so quickly too.  I’m assuming he had a judge in his pocket or something, or he had some kind of connections inside the system. And I’m so sorry that we failed you.”

That sounded about right, actually.  He was sure that Terry probably had some kind of blackmail material on one of the judges.  There were a lot of supposedly fine, upstanding citizens that dealt in Terry’s illegal shit, and Terry had so much information on some of these guys that he could blow their lives up in a heartbeat.  

Mickey took in some deep, calming breaths and nodded. “Yeah, I remember.  Just could never figure out why the fuck he even wanted us back.  I guess he just wanted power over us, you know? There’s no other reason.”

Zach just nodded. “The courts can be so corrupt sometimes, and all the red tape made it so difficult for us to actually help kids like you.  I felt like I failed so many kids, even though there wasn’t anything more that I could do.  That’s why I ended up leaving DCFS and opening this place.  Here, I at least feel like I can make a difference, you know?  And that’s exactly what you’ve done for these kids, Mickey.  The only reason I’m bringing that shit up is because I want you to know how fucking proud of you I am.  You came from the absolute shittiest of circumstances, and look what you’ve done.  You’ve used all the bullshit that you’ve been through to help other people, and I think you’re an exceptional human being, Mickey.”

God fucking damnit, he was crying again.  Jesus Christ.  This was getting embarrassing.  As tears soaked his face and he tried desperately to hold back his sobs, he just nodded his head.  He couldn’t speak for fear of blubbering like an idiot.  Zach stood up, walked over to Mickey and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and left his office, clearly knowing that Mickey needed a few minutes to himself.  

When he was finally able to pull himself together, he set about working with the kids for what would not be his final time, like he’d originally thought, but just his final time as an intern.  He would be seeing these kids so many more times to come, and countless other kids who needed help, and Mickey was so looking forward to his future.  Of course, he was bursting at the seams to tell Ian.  He couldn’t wait.  

*

When Mickey got home, he was bummed to find that Ian wasn’t there yet.  He had texted him letting him know that he had really good news, and to come over as soon as he could.  He was sure that Ian would be there soon.

He went into the bathroom to take a quick shower, with the anticipation of what celebratory activities were to come once Ian arrived, but Mandy stopped him.

“Hey, assface, I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I, uh, got a promotion at the restaurant.  Like a big one.  Since I’m getting my business and marketing degree, they offered me a management-level position where I’d basically be the social media and marketing coordinator for the restaurant.  I’d also help plan events and shit like that.  I’m still kind of in shock actually.”

“Holy shit, Mands, that’s awesome,” Mickey said, walking over to give Mandy a hug.  “I, uh, got offered a full time position at the youth center, fuckin’ benefits and everything.”

Mandy pulled back and looked at Mickey with wide eyes.  “Mickey, that’s amazing.  I’m so fucking happy for you.  I’m proud of us, you know that?  Really fucking proud.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, and he meant it.  

Mandy awkwardly cleared her throat and continued, “So since I’ll be making like an actual full-time salary, I was thinking I could maybe get my own place?  There’s a unit just a couple of floors down for rent, a one bedroom, and I already got approved for it.  But I won’t do it if it’s going to fuck things up for you.  I know this is too much for you to afford on your own, but–”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Mickey interrupted.  He definitely had something in mind; in fact, he’d been thinking about it for awhile, and this was really the perfect opening. “I uh, have an idea in mind.”

Mandy gave him a knowing smile.  “I think I know what that idea might be, and I guarantee that he’ll say yes,” she said with a wink.  “Hey, I know Ian’s coming over so I’ll let you guys have your privacy.  Gonna go to a graduation party thing with some co-workers.  See you later. Proud of you, dickhead.”

“Yeah. Proud of you, too,” Mickey said as Mandy waved and walked out the door.

*

When Mickey came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked into his bedroom to find Ian sitting on his bed in just a tank top and boxers.  He instantly clocked the massage oil and lube out and ready on the nightstand, and holy hell, if this turned out like the last time Ian had given him a massage, he was glad that he’d showered.

“Hey,” Ian said seductively.  “So what’s your news?  I’m ready to celebrate.”

“Well, uh, Zach offered me a full-time, salaried position at the center with benefits and everything.  As an entry-level counselor.  He said that they’d work with my grad school schedule and everything.”

Ian stood up and pulled Mickey into his arms.  “I’m so fucking proud of you. And I’m gonna show you just how proud I am.”  With that, Ian pulled Mickey’s towel right off and maneuvered him over to the bed.  “Lie down on your stomach,” Ian commanded, and when Ian took that dominant tone, Mickey became instantly hard.   

Ian was so proud of this amazing man, and he was about to worship the fuck out of his body and take him apart.  

He stripped his clothes off so that he was also completely naked, and straddled the backs of Mickey’s thighs.  As soon as Mickey felt Ian’s already semi-hard dick right up against his ass, he groaned, “Fuck, Ian,” and with that Ian was no longer semi-hard, but was fully there. 

He opened the bottle of massage oil and poured a generous amount onto Mickey’s back before spreading it around and kneading into the muscles of his back.  

“I fucking love every part of you,” Ian said, right before leaning down and licking Mickey’s earlobe before giving it a little nibble. “These ears.  These ears that listen to me, that heard me crying out for help when I needed it the most,” he said.

He then reached for Mickey’s hands that were gripping the pillow, lacing their fingers together and spreading the oil all over them as he massaged in between his tattooed fingers. “These hands that protect me.  They’re so fucking strong,” he said before kissing down the back of his neck and along the backs of his shoulders.  “You’re so strong, but your skin is so soft,” he continued as he massaged deeper into Mickey’s muscles, moving his hands down, down, down, until they were kneading his ass cheeks.

Mickey was now moaning unabashedly, and Ian couldn’t get enough of it.  “And don’t get me started on this ass.  God, the most amazing ass that’s ever existed.  It’s round, plump and juicy—“

“It’s not a fuckin’ piece of fruit, Red,” Mickey half-chuckled, half-moaned.

“Oh, it’s better than a piece of fruit.  And I’m definitely going to take a bite,” Ian said as he moved further down so that his face was level with Mickey’s ass.  He leaned down and bit one of his cheeks, eliciting a yelp from Mickey. 

Ian opened Mickey’s cheeks and swiped his tongue across his hole. “Ahhh, oh, fuck,” Mickey breathed out, now heavily panting.

“And this pretty little hole.  Never been fucked by anyone but me, never even touched by anyone else.  It’s all mine, isn’t it?” Ian leaned in and circled Mickey’s hole with his tongue and dipped it inside.

“Fuck,” Mickey grunted, “Yeah, ‘s fuckin’ yours.  No one else’s.  No one’s ever gonna touch it but you. Ohhh, fuck, Ian.”

Ian was now stroking his own dick, unable to go any longer without touching himself, as he heard Mickey coming apart just from his tongue. 

Ian was relentless in his ministrations, and Mickey was rutting against the mattress beneath him, already pathetically close to coming. 

And it happened so suddenly, Mickey was caught off-guard.  “Oh fuck, Jesus Christ, I’m coming, oh my god,” he practically cried out as he spurted all over the bed. 

Mickey lay splayed out on the bed, limbs practically numb, as he tried to catch his breath.  Fuck, that was intense.  And he wanted to say all of those things to Ian.  He wanted to show Ian how much he loved every part of his body.  But right now, he couldn’t move.  

When he finally came back into his body, he felt Ian lying down right beside him, and he opened his eyes to see his beautiful face staring at him.  Mickey could barely move, but he reached over to at least give Ian a handjob to return the favor.  Ian stopped him and said, “Too late, I was so turned on that I had to jerk off,” almost sheepishly, and Mickey had to smile at how Ian was acting shy when he’d just had his tongue inside Mickey's asshole.

Mickey just reached over and touched Ian’s cheek.  “You’re fuckin’ everything to me, you know that?”

Ian just nodded and said, “Yeah, you too. Fuck, I love you.”

Mickey knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going to spend the rest of his life with this man. 

He took a deep breath and looked into Ian’s green eyes. 

“So, uh, Mandy got a promotion at work so she’s moving out.  I was wondering, um, if you wanted to move in with me?” He didn’t know why he was nervous, but for some reason he was.

Ian couldn’t believe how nervous Mickey sounded, as if there was any universe in which Ian would say no. “Of course I’ll fucking move in with you,” Ian said, and the smile that spread across Mickey’s face was worth everything.

“Ok.  Good,” Mickey said as they wrapped their bodies around each other and held on tightly.

*

*

*

*

Ian sat in the crowded arena watching as Mickey got ready to cross the stage and receive his college diploma.  Mandy sat next to him.  Her graduation ceremony would be the following day, since there were several ceremonies depending on the program of study.  The college of business administration would be having their ceremony tomorrow morning, and he would of course be there with Mickey, cheering as she walked across the stage.

“Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich,” he heard, as Mickey proudly walked across the stage and took his diploma.  Mandy and Ian cheered uproariously, and Mickey looked in their direction and smiled.  Ian’s vision started to blur from the tears filling his eyes.  Tears of happiness, tears of joy, tears of pride. He was filled with so much love for this man.  And to think that one call to the crisis line had brought him to Mickey, that two damaged souls could find each other and heal their cracked and broken parts.  Ian had so much life left to live, and he couldn’t wait to live it with Mickey by his side. 

Chapter Text

**10 Years Later**

“Anna, wake up, it’s time for school!” Mickey heard his husband yelling up the stairs.  There wasn’t a single passing day that Mickey wasn’t amazed and so, so grateful that this was his life. 

As usual, his husband was up at the fucking crack of dawn, sometimes going for a run before the sun even came up, always showered and ready—and looking fucking gorgeous as hell, no surprise there–with breakfast on the table before Mickey even got out of bed. Crazy-ass ginger.  Fuck, he loved him and would never be able to get enough of him.  

They had moved in together just a few weeks after Mickey had graduated from college, as soon as Ian’s lease was up, and they’d stayed in that apartment for Ian’s entire fourth year of college, right up until his graduation.  It was pure bliss, for the most part.  In the weeks leading up to Ian’s graduation, he’d hit a rough patch, with a hypomanic episode followed by a downswing, but Mickey had stayed by his side the entire time, even though he was in grad school and was working full-time at the youth center.   It didn’t fucking matter.  Ian was more important than any of it.  They had come out on the other side closer than they’d ever been before, and Ian was able to pull through with flying colors, receiving his bachelor of nursing degree and passing his licensure exam only weeks later, officially making him a registered nurse.  

After Ian’s college graduation, Ian was 23 and Mickey was almost 24.  Were they still pretty young?  Maybe.  Was Mickey 100% sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Ian and that he never wanted to be without him?  Absolutely.  It turned out that Ian must’ve had the exact same thoughts, as Mickey’s romantic proposal was thwarted by Ian pulling out a set of rings that very night as they sat on the couch enjoying a quiet evening together.  Mickey had just started laughing, and he’ll never forget the terrified expression that crossed Ian’s face at that moment.  Mickey had quickly pulled out the rings that he’d purchased for that very same purpose, and Ian’s fear instantly turned to joy.  They had each worn the ring that the other had purchased, and on their wedding day one year later, they placed the other rings on each other’s fingers as they said their vows.

Those wedding vows that they said in front of their loved ones at the Viceroy Chicago, the same hotel where they’d stayed on their first spring break together, were words that they continued to live by.  Sickness and health, good times and bad; they’d experienced it all, they’d taken care of each other and had come out even stronger each time.  

Mickey had worked at the youth center with Zach for a year before Zach told him that he would be opening up another location a few blocks away, and he wanted him to help head it up.  Mickey of course said yes.  He had another year left before completing his clinical mental health counseling master’s degree program, but he knew he could do it.  He was able to use his work at the center for clinical practicum hours as well, so it was a win-win.  Soon after graduating with his master’s degree, Mickey passed the exam to become a National Certified Counselor. 

Ian had ultimately decided to pursue psychiatric mental health nursing as his specialization, and as soon as he became a licensed RN, he got a job working in a psychiatric hospital setting.  While Ian figured it would be a way to use his past experiences for good and to take control of his past, it ended up hitting a little too close to home for him, so he ended up pursuing other types of settings. Ultimately he’d secured a position working in a juvenile detention facility.  This was where he found his niche.  Just like Mickey, he loved working with kids who often were just victims of their fucked up circumstances, or in the case of many of his patients, mental illness, who just needed some treatment and guidance.  It reminded him so much of working with younger versions of himself, or younger versions of Mickey, and he was very passionate about it.  

Once Ian was a couple of years in as a registered nurse, he’d decided to pursue his MSN to become a psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner (PMHNP).  This would give him the ability to have an even bigger role in patient treatment, as he would be able to assess and diagnose, as well as make recommendations for treatment and even prescribe initial medication.  He had been able to complete most of his schooling through an online program, and with the work he was already doing in the field, he was able to complete it in two and a half more years.

Ian and Mickey had been married for five years when their lives really began to change in so many ways, all of them good.  So, so good.   The first huge change was that they purchased their first home; a 3-bedroom house on the west side.  Ian secretly hoped that one of the bedrooms would be used for a child of their own one day.  He knew Mickey was somewhat hesitant about having kids, worrying that he had such terrible parental role models growing up that he would somehow continue the cycle, but Ian knew that this wouldn’t be the case.  

However, they couldn’t have anticipated how parenthood would eventually end up coming their way, in the form of an 8 year-old little girl named Anna.  Zach had called Mickey about a little girl who had been through several different foster placements, but they had never worked out due to her behavioral issues.  Apparently, none of the foster families that she’d been placed with could handle her.  Zach had decided to take a chance by asking if Ian and Mickey would be able to take her in.  Zach had become not only a mentor but almost a father figure to Mickey, and he and his husband were now close friends with both Ian and Mickey.  Zach knew that these two would be exactly the parents that this little girl needed.  They understood where she came from, and they both worked in behavioral health fields, so they would have a completely different perspective on how to handle her trauma-based behaviors.  

Despite Mickey’s initial reticence, there was ultimately no way that he could say no.  And of course, Ian was on board from the very first second.  After completing the steps to becoming foster parents, they took Anna in and never looked back.  While she was indeed a challenge, they understood exactly what she needed.  She needed love, she needed her hurt to be acknowledged, and she needed to know that she was safe.  Ian and Mickey loved this little girl, and they wanted to officially be her parents.  It wasn’t difficult for her abusive biological parents to have their parental rights terminated, and the process was actually much smoother than they’d anticipated. A little over a year later, Anna was officially their daughter.  

The following year, Ian and Mickey finally realized their dream of opening their own behavioral health practice.  With Mickey being a certified counselor and Ian a psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner, they would be able to assess, diagnose, and treat patients through therapy, family counseling, and initial medication prescription, and Ian had a network of collaborating physicians to assist with medical interventions.  

Mandy’s business expertise had been invaluable in helping them achieve their dream, and she was currently their office manager in addition to being social media manager extraordinaire for several local businesses and a newlywed herself.  She had met her now husband, a local business owner, when she was hired to handle their social media marketing.  

Danny, that scared teenager who had been so closed off when Mickey first met him at the youth center, was now following in Mickey’s footsteps, working on getting his master’s degree in mental health counseling, and working under Mickey as a counseling intern at the practice.  

Now, here Ian and Mickey were, heading to work—together—and happier than ever.  Mickey lay in bed listening to the sounds of Ian in the kitchen and their 11-year old daughter trudging down the stairs, grumbling about having to go to school, and he marveled at the fact that this was his life.  How even though he was supposed to be helping people when he met Ian, he was so broken himself.  And here they were.  It wasn’t all smooth sailing all the time.  Ian still had episodes now and again, still needed meds adjustments, and Mickey still had anxiety and a shit load of things from his childhood that he’d probably always be working through in some way or another.  So was everything perfect?  Maybe not, but who’s to say what defines perfection?  To Mickey, it was pretty fucking perfect, even with the bumps in the road that managed to pop up every now and then.  As long as they came over those bumps together and not apart, that was all that mattered.

Mickey pulled himself out of bed and went downstairs to see his husband in the kitchen plating up pancakes, and it took him back to that very first night that Mickey had spent at his apartment.  When Ian needed him to stay so that he wouldn’t be alone.  And here he was, still looking as beautiful and radiant as ever as he made those fucking pancakes, and Mickey just needed to kiss him.  So he walked up and wrapped his arms around him from behind.  Ian immediately turned around to face him, with that smile that lit up Mickey’s world, and leaned in to kiss him.  This was his life, and his past no longer haunted him; all that he thought about now was his future.  And his future was right here in this house.  His family.  His whole world, forever.  And Mickey couldn’t help but smile.