Fic: - US Shameless, Ian/Mickey
Jun. 27th, 2011 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notSome things don't change
US Shameless || Ian/Mickey || rated Teen for language and implication || ~2000 words
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Shameless world. No harm intended.
Summary: Mickey doesn't expect Ian to show up when he gets out, but he does.
A/N: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liketheroad and wordsalone for getting me hooked on this show to begin with. Super big thanks to junebug_waltz for the read-through on this and the neverending encouragement, and to the always excellent asimplechord for betaing. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Mickey's hiding out around the outside of the fence, sitting in the shadows on the hood of a rusty pickup, away from the party that's spilling out both doors of the house and into the yards. He's already buzzed; the months away means he's out of practice. It was a longer sentence than his previous stays in juvie, and it feels a little weird to come back to the crowd and the noise and the chaos. He needs a few minutes to himself, a little fresh air.
The crunch of gravel alerts him to the fact he's no longer alone. He doesn't bother lifting his head, just takes another drag off his cigarette and says, "Did you bring me a beer?"
He's surprised when the newcomer places his hands on his thighs and stands between his spread legs. "Nope."
Gallagher. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Wanted to see you." Ian plucks the cigarette from Mickey's hands and takes a long drag. "Mandy said you were coming home today."
"You knew where I was. Could've come to see me anytime." Ian hadn't returned after that first visit. Mickey wasn't pissed about it. Not like he expected anything from Ian.
"Didn't think you'd want to see me." Ian shrugs, flicking the butt to the side. The false confidence is clear in his voice. "Plus I've been on Fiona's shitlist and thought I should stay away from lockup. Me and Lip got arrested for boosting a car."
Mickey's off the truck and pushing Ian up against the splintered wood of the fence before he has time to think about it. "You fucking what? You dumb shit!" Ian's future isn't his business. Ian's no better than him, no better than anyone else in this shithole neighborhood, only he is. He's not supposed to get arrested for some stupid teenage bullshit and fuck up his chances to join the service and get out.
And Mickey's not supposed to care.
Ian's laughing at him, that half smile, half smirk on his face that Mickey's still not quite sure how to read. It's like Mickey's words are a riddle that only Ian knows how to unravel, and it leaves him feeling unsettled, like Ian knows more about him than he wants to share.
Mickey starts tugging at Ian's jacket, at his shirts. Suddenly it's important that he get his hands on Ian's skin. "Why are you wearing so many fucking layers?"
"Because it's fucking cold?" Ian offers, shifting so Mickey can get closer as he finds bare skin and runs his hands across Ian's stomach and around his back. Ian makes a hissing sound, but Mickey doesn't know if it's from the touch or from the fact his hands are cold. It doesn't actually matter. Ian's skin is hot, and his breath is hotter when it brushes against Mickey's cheek. They're close enough that they'd barely have to move to kiss, if kissing was something they did. Mickey doesn't want to kiss Ian, though; he wants to fuck him. Right here, against the fence, in the cold, with his welcome home party going on just feet away. He's not sure what it would prove, but it would prove something.
Something hits the fence with a thud and shatters, and Mickey hears one of his brothers shouting his name from the yard. He needs to get back to the party before someone comes looking for him. Before he gets caught. He pulls his hands out from under Ian's shirt and steps back. He stumbles a bit and blames it on his fading buzz.
"I can ditch tomorrow," Ian says quickly. "I mean, if you wanna come by the house?"
"Maybe," Mickey says. They both know he means yes.
Ian 's grinning at him again, still leaning against the fence as he tugs his jacket back in place. Mickey makes sure he doesn't look back as he walks away, heads back to the party.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Nobody comes to the door when Mickey knocks, and he's left standing on the front porch looking like a douche and probably attracting attention from the old lady in the house across the street. He bangs on the door again, thinking of a creative way to get back at Ian. Although he could have made the whole thing up, but he didn't think he was that fucked up, needing to imagine Ian Gallagher into his night.
Mickey's about to walk off when the door swings open. Ian's standing there, barefeet and barechest, hair sticking up everywhere, rubbing his eyes. It'd be cute if he was five, or if Mickey was a girl.
"Sorry," Ian says, stepping back to let Mickey into the house. He doesn't offer up some stupid excuse about being asleep and Mickey doesn't point out that it's after noon. "You want a beer or something?"
"Nah." It's not completely true. He doesn't want a beer, but they both know he wants something. He's pretty deliberate with the way he lets his gaze slide over Ian's body, and when he raises his eyes back to meet Ian's, Ian's biting his lip. When Mickey takes a step towards him, Ian grabs the edge of his jacket and tugs him toward the stairs.
Upstairs, Mickey takes a moment to look around the room Ian obviously shares with his brothers. Ian's bending over, rifling through a drawer, and Mickey's so hung up on watching his ass that he almost doesn't catch it when Ian asks if he wants to smoke up.
Mickey takes a chance and steps forward, hands closing around Ian's hips as he presses against his ass. "What, you gotta get high before we fuck?" He hopes the slight growl covers up the uncertainty in his voice.
Ian glances over his shoulder with a grin, grinding back against Mickey. "That all this is, a booty call?" He doesn't seem to be upset by the concept, though, as he straightens up and tosses a condom and lube on the nightstand. It's the same brand as before, the ones they were stealing from the free clinic. Mickey's irrationally glad to see some things haven't changed.
Some things have.
As Mickey shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on his bed, Ian moves over to stand with his hands braced on the edge of the bunk bed. It's a familiar posture, but Ian's taller than Mickey remembers, his hair grown out a little longer. There's a raised scar running over his right shoulder blade that wasn't there before.
Mickey's already getting hard as he rubs against Ian through two layers of denim. He runs his hands over Ian's side, the skin hot and smooth but hard underneath. Ian's deceptively skinny; he's packing a lot of muscle under his shirts.
He runs his thumb over the scar. "What's this from?"
"Got snagged by a fence." He doesn't elaborate, and Mickey's tempted to ask, wants to know what other dumbass things Ian did while he was gone and what he was running from when he lost the fight with the fence, but Ian asks, "Miss me?" His voice is low, like he doesn't really want Mickey to hear, doesn't want to know the answer.
Yes, Mickey thinks, but he says, "You got taller," and Ian laughs.
Ian shivers when Mickey slides a hand over his stomach, lower to brush over the front of his jeans. "We gonna fuck or not?"
Mickey wants to fuck, yeah, but he kinda wants to take his time. He hasn't even seen this stupid kid in months, and before that it was all quick fucks in the cooler at the Kash and Grab or fooling around in his bedroom with Mandy or someone else in the next room. He'd be a pussy to say it, though, so he makes quick work of Ian's jeans, pushing them out of the way and wrapping his fingers around Ian's dick. He likes the way Ian sighs and lets his weight rest more solidly against him.
"Who missed who?"
"You already know I missed you."
Ian drops his head, like he's trying to hide his blush, but it doesn't work. His skin is delightfully pale, broadcasts the red under the freckles as it spreads from the tips of his ears and down the sides of his neck to his shoulders. Mickey doesn't know if it's embarrassment or nervousness or arousal, but whatever it is he likes it.
After, laying side by side on the small bed, Ian's running his hand over the scar on Mickey's leg. Mickey doesn't know if it's a conscious gesture or not.
"Still can't believe your boyfriend shot me over a fucking Snickers bar."
"Not my boyfriend," Ian says immediately, then adds softer, "and it wasn't about the candy."
He looks down and away as he says it, and Mickey tucks his fingers under Ian's chin to tip his head up for a kiss. He has to occupy his tongue before he says something stupid like "it was worth it." Eight months in lock up over a kid. What the fuck?
Ian messes with his head. Mickey's not sure he'll ever be able to think straight where Ian is concerned.
Their kiss is leading up to round two when someone barges in the door.
"Whoa!" Lip stops in the middle of the room and puts his hand over his eyes but doesn't leave. "Could've put a warning sign on the door or something!"
"Fuck you." There's no heat in Ian's tone as he grabs the blanket to cover them with. "You're home early."
"Not really. We're celebrating - Ethel was awarded custody of Jonah. Get dressed and come downstairs."
The door slams behind him, and Ian sighs. "Guess that means we gotta put clothes on."
Guess so. Fuck. Eight months. Mickey really could use a little more time here. He doesn't even know who the fuck Ethel is.
Mickey has to keep turning away, pretending to scowl to hide his grin as they're getting dressed and Ian keeps trying to steal kisses. Apparently Mickey's crossed a line and started something.
Ian steals Mickey's t-shirt too.
There's a lot of noise coming from the kitchen and Mickey's right on Ian's heels as they trip down the stairs. The kitchen seems too small for all the people crowded into it, and Mickey's surprised to see Mandy's one of them. He's even more surprised to see that Mandy's got a baby on her hip. Mandy fucking hates little kids.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Mickey vaguely recognizes the black woman who asks the question, but doesn't realize at first she's talking to him.
"That's my brother." It's amazing how Mandy can convey an eye-roll in her voice.
The woman glances at Mandy and then looks back at Ian and Mickey on the stairs. "You staying for the party?"
Mickey catches the glare he gets from Mandy and deliberately doesn't look at Ian when he shakes his head. He really should - it's as good as an invitation, he and Ian are friends of a sort, and if Mandy's here then no one will be fixing any food at his house, which still hasn't been cleaned up from last night's mess. "No," he says, realizing that Ian's in front of him and can't see him. "I'll see you later." The last is directed at Ian, and he nudges him in the shoulder as he pushes past him to get to the back door.
Mickey half expects Ian to stop him or say something or come after him, but he doesn't. He probably thinks Mickey's not ready to face his family. He's only partially right.
Mickey knows about Ian and Mandy's "relationship." He's just never had to face it before. Mandy's letters were full of Ian, and Ian did things like remember her birthday and make sure she got home safely after concerts and sign her up for self-defense classes at the place he took karate. He'd be a good boyfriend, if he wasn't fucking Mickey.
Shit.
Mickey hopes there's some alcohol left at home from last night's party. He's going to need it.
US Shameless || Ian/Mickey || rated Teen for language and implication || ~2000 words
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Shameless world. No harm intended.
Summary: Mickey doesn't expect Ian to show up when he gets out, but he does.
A/N: Thanks to
liketheroad and wordsalone for getting me hooked on this show to begin with. Super big thanks to junebug_waltz for the read-through on this and the neverending encouragement, and to the always excellent asimplechord for betaing. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Mickey's hiding out around the outside of the fence, sitting in the shadows on the hood of a rusty pickup, away from the party that's spilling out both doors of the house and into the yards. He's already buzzed; the months away means he's out of practice. It was a longer sentence than his previous stays in juvie, and it feels a little weird to come back to the crowd and the noise and the chaos. He needs a few minutes to himself, a little fresh air.
The crunch of gravel alerts him to the fact he's no longer alone. He doesn't bother lifting his head, just takes another drag off his cigarette and says, "Did you bring me a beer?"
He's surprised when the newcomer places his hands on his thighs and stands between his spread legs. "Nope."
Gallagher. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Wanted to see you." Ian plucks the cigarette from Mickey's hands and takes a long drag. "Mandy said you were coming home today."
"You knew where I was. Could've come to see me anytime." Ian hadn't returned after that first visit. Mickey wasn't pissed about it. Not like he expected anything from Ian.
"Didn't think you'd want to see me." Ian shrugs, flicking the butt to the side. The false confidence is clear in his voice. "Plus I've been on Fiona's shitlist and thought I should stay away from lockup. Me and Lip got arrested for boosting a car."
Mickey's off the truck and pushing Ian up against the splintered wood of the fence before he has time to think about it. "You fucking what? You dumb shit!" Ian's future isn't his business. Ian's no better than him, no better than anyone else in this shithole neighborhood, only he is. He's not supposed to get arrested for some stupid teenage bullshit and fuck up his chances to join the service and get out.
And Mickey's not supposed to care.
Ian's laughing at him, that half smile, half smirk on his face that Mickey's still not quite sure how to read. It's like Mickey's words are a riddle that only Ian knows how to unravel, and it leaves him feeling unsettled, like Ian knows more about him than he wants to share.
Mickey starts tugging at Ian's jacket, at his shirts. Suddenly it's important that he get his hands on Ian's skin. "Why are you wearing so many fucking layers?"
"Because it's fucking cold?" Ian offers, shifting so Mickey can get closer as he finds bare skin and runs his hands across Ian's stomach and around his back. Ian makes a hissing sound, but Mickey doesn't know if it's from the touch or from the fact his hands are cold. It doesn't actually matter. Ian's skin is hot, and his breath is hotter when it brushes against Mickey's cheek. They're close enough that they'd barely have to move to kiss, if kissing was something they did. Mickey doesn't want to kiss Ian, though; he wants to fuck him. Right here, against the fence, in the cold, with his welcome home party going on just feet away. He's not sure what it would prove, but it would prove something.
Something hits the fence with a thud and shatters, and Mickey hears one of his brothers shouting his name from the yard. He needs to get back to the party before someone comes looking for him. Before he gets caught. He pulls his hands out from under Ian's shirt and steps back. He stumbles a bit and blames it on his fading buzz.
"I can ditch tomorrow," Ian says quickly. "I mean, if you wanna come by the house?"
"Maybe," Mickey says. They both know he means yes.
Ian 's grinning at him again, still leaning against the fence as he tugs his jacket back in place. Mickey makes sure he doesn't look back as he walks away, heads back to the party.
Nobody comes to the door when Mickey knocks, and he's left standing on the front porch looking like a douche and probably attracting attention from the old lady in the house across the street. He bangs on the door again, thinking of a creative way to get back at Ian. Although he could have made the whole thing up, but he didn't think he was that fucked up, needing to imagine Ian Gallagher into his night.
Mickey's about to walk off when the door swings open. Ian's standing there, barefeet and barechest, hair sticking up everywhere, rubbing his eyes. It'd be cute if he was five, or if Mickey was a girl.
"Sorry," Ian says, stepping back to let Mickey into the house. He doesn't offer up some stupid excuse about being asleep and Mickey doesn't point out that it's after noon. "You want a beer or something?"
"Nah." It's not completely true. He doesn't want a beer, but they both know he wants something. He's pretty deliberate with the way he lets his gaze slide over Ian's body, and when he raises his eyes back to meet Ian's, Ian's biting his lip. When Mickey takes a step towards him, Ian grabs the edge of his jacket and tugs him toward the stairs.
Upstairs, Mickey takes a moment to look around the room Ian obviously shares with his brothers. Ian's bending over, rifling through a drawer, and Mickey's so hung up on watching his ass that he almost doesn't catch it when Ian asks if he wants to smoke up.
Mickey takes a chance and steps forward, hands closing around Ian's hips as he presses against his ass. "What, you gotta get high before we fuck?" He hopes the slight growl covers up the uncertainty in his voice.
Ian glances over his shoulder with a grin, grinding back against Mickey. "That all this is, a booty call?" He doesn't seem to be upset by the concept, though, as he straightens up and tosses a condom and lube on the nightstand. It's the same brand as before, the ones they were stealing from the free clinic. Mickey's irrationally glad to see some things haven't changed.
Some things have.
As Mickey shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on his bed, Ian moves over to stand with his hands braced on the edge of the bunk bed. It's a familiar posture, but Ian's taller than Mickey remembers, his hair grown out a little longer. There's a raised scar running over his right shoulder blade that wasn't there before.
Mickey's already getting hard as he rubs against Ian through two layers of denim. He runs his hands over Ian's side, the skin hot and smooth but hard underneath. Ian's deceptively skinny; he's packing a lot of muscle under his shirts.
He runs his thumb over the scar. "What's this from?"
"Got snagged by a fence." He doesn't elaborate, and Mickey's tempted to ask, wants to know what other dumbass things Ian did while he was gone and what he was running from when he lost the fight with the fence, but Ian asks, "Miss me?" His voice is low, like he doesn't really want Mickey to hear, doesn't want to know the answer.
Yes, Mickey thinks, but he says, "You got taller," and Ian laughs.
Ian shivers when Mickey slides a hand over his stomach, lower to brush over the front of his jeans. "We gonna fuck or not?"
Mickey wants to fuck, yeah, but he kinda wants to take his time. He hasn't even seen this stupid kid in months, and before that it was all quick fucks in the cooler at the Kash and Grab or fooling around in his bedroom with Mandy or someone else in the next room. He'd be a pussy to say it, though, so he makes quick work of Ian's jeans, pushing them out of the way and wrapping his fingers around Ian's dick. He likes the way Ian sighs and lets his weight rest more solidly against him.
"Who missed who?"
"You already know I missed you."
Ian drops his head, like he's trying to hide his blush, but it doesn't work. His skin is delightfully pale, broadcasts the red under the freckles as it spreads from the tips of his ears and down the sides of his neck to his shoulders. Mickey doesn't know if it's embarrassment or nervousness or arousal, but whatever it is he likes it.
After, laying side by side on the small bed, Ian's running his hand over the scar on Mickey's leg. Mickey doesn't know if it's a conscious gesture or not.
"Still can't believe your boyfriend shot me over a fucking Snickers bar."
"Not my boyfriend," Ian says immediately, then adds softer, "and it wasn't about the candy."
He looks down and away as he says it, and Mickey tucks his fingers under Ian's chin to tip his head up for a kiss. He has to occupy his tongue before he says something stupid like "it was worth it." Eight months in lock up over a kid. What the fuck?
Ian messes with his head. Mickey's not sure he'll ever be able to think straight where Ian is concerned.
Their kiss is leading up to round two when someone barges in the door.
"Whoa!" Lip stops in the middle of the room and puts his hand over his eyes but doesn't leave. "Could've put a warning sign on the door or something!"
"Fuck you." There's no heat in Ian's tone as he grabs the blanket to cover them with. "You're home early."
"Not really. We're celebrating - Ethel was awarded custody of Jonah. Get dressed and come downstairs."
The door slams behind him, and Ian sighs. "Guess that means we gotta put clothes on."
Guess so. Fuck. Eight months. Mickey really could use a little more time here. He doesn't even know who the fuck Ethel is.
Mickey has to keep turning away, pretending to scowl to hide his grin as they're getting dressed and Ian keeps trying to steal kisses. Apparently Mickey's crossed a line and started something.
Ian steals Mickey's t-shirt too.
There's a lot of noise coming from the kitchen and Mickey's right on Ian's heels as they trip down the stairs. The kitchen seems too small for all the people crowded into it, and Mickey's surprised to see Mandy's one of them. He's even more surprised to see that Mandy's got a baby on her hip. Mandy fucking hates little kids.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Mickey vaguely recognizes the black woman who asks the question, but doesn't realize at first she's talking to him.
"That's my brother." It's amazing how Mandy can convey an eye-roll in her voice.
The woman glances at Mandy and then looks back at Ian and Mickey on the stairs. "You staying for the party?"
Mickey catches the glare he gets from Mandy and deliberately doesn't look at Ian when he shakes his head. He really should - it's as good as an invitation, he and Ian are friends of a sort, and if Mandy's here then no one will be fixing any food at his house, which still hasn't been cleaned up from last night's mess. "No," he says, realizing that Ian's in front of him and can't see him. "I'll see you later." The last is directed at Ian, and he nudges him in the shoulder as he pushes past him to get to the back door.
Mickey half expects Ian to stop him or say something or come after him, but he doesn't. He probably thinks Mickey's not ready to face his family. He's only partially right.
Mickey knows about Ian and Mandy's "relationship." He's just never had to face it before. Mandy's letters were full of Ian, and Ian did things like remember her birthday and make sure she got home safely after concerts and sign her up for self-defense classes at the place he took karate. He'd be a good boyfriend, if he wasn't fucking Mickey.
Shit.
Mickey hopes there's some alcohol left at home from last night's party. He's going to need it.
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Date: 2011-09-04 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:42 pm (UTC)