Work Text:
While Mickey does love his job, loves the kind of responsibility it gives him, loves that he's a Milkovich but he's trusted here, trusted with kids, sometimes it just sucks ass. Whenever one of his kids gets sent back to their abusive parents and there's nothing he can do except get absolutely smashed, or whenever something hits a little too close to home. Whenever he has to do a late night shift. Or this. Fucking paperwork.
When he started studying to be a social worker he had no idea how much paperwork you actually had to do, especially with children, where every single fucking thing had to be written down and authorized by the most incompetent assholes. His shift's been over since forever, but he stayed even after Ian left (and gave him shit for it), working on files, payments, and whatnot. And because he's a lazy fuck, he pushed it till the last minute, and now he's here. Feeling like a goddamn secretary.
His phone keeps humming inside his pocket with random texts from Ian, most likely telling him to hurry the fuck up. They're supposed to meet up with Mandy today. He's not exactly sure how Ian managed to persuade him to even think about it, but. Yeah, he knows how. Let's just say Mickey babbles a lot of stupid shit out while he's getting the life fingered outta him. Sue him.
He called Mandy, who yelled at him for not mentioning he even had a boyfriend in the first place, then asked him if he was a good fuck at least, then insisted they just had to go to a gay club. Because why the fuck not.
While it isn't necessarily the “gay” about it that weirds him out, it's the “club” part. He knows Ian used to be a dancer, and he's really not in the mood to watch weirdos get into his boyfriend's pants. The only reason he goes to a gay club, any club, is to either get fucking wasted or to get laid, and he doesn't know why they even have to go, when he can do those two things at home. Whatever. He doesn't have work tomorrow, so he'll just do enough shots to handle his sister's weirdly explicit questions about their sex life, and Ian's just as explicit answers.
He's halfway through a stack of papers when he sees it, a flicker of movement outside his vision. If he was a normal guy, he wouldn't think much of it. Probably shrug it off. But he's been a social worker for a while now, and above that he's Mickey Milkovich, so he knows what a kid running away looks like. Been there, done that.
He starts out of his chair, his legs leading him to where the noise is coming from. There's a kid, almost completely engulfed into darkness, and Mickey has to think for a second to remember his name. Leon. Sixteen, black, scrawny, likes comic books and heroes. Allergic to peanuts. He's been here for a while now, never really got into trouble or anything. The only thing out of the ordinary about this kid is that he was in juvie once, and that his parents are fuck knows where. Like any other kid in here. So it's even weirder that when Leon finally spots him, he starts running.
“Motherf-” he curses, already taking off after him. Years of working in a group home and that shit's just reflex now. He's rusty though, not like his fitness obsessed idiot at home. “Wait up!” Leon doesn't, though, just starts slowing down a little once he's out on the street. He's out, now. Can't touch him while he's outside, another fuckin' great rule, all you can do is try to get him to get back inside. And Mickey is gonna make damned sure he's not goin' anywhere, even if it means fucking running after him and following him around like a puppy.
Leon stops running after a few minutes, seemingly exhausted, while Mickey meanwhile is a wreck, coughing and wincing. “Was that really fucking necessary?” he says, crouching down and trying to breathe normally. He's not sure how the no curse words policy works for kids running off, so fuck it.
Leon shrugs, but he looks visibly nervous. “Shouldn't have followed me,” he says too quickly, “'sides, I'm outside so you can't touch me. And you can't make me go back, either.” He sounds scared but sure of his plan, so Mickey contemplates.
“Can I at least walk with you, then?” Mickey asks, wiping sweat off his face.
The kid gets nervous, looking at his hands and playing with his sweater. “.... I guess.”
“Cool. But no more of that The Flash shit okay?” That earns him a small smile.
So they walk. Neither of them are really up for any small talk, so they don't. The only sounds that can be heard are the occasional car horns and their shoes hitting the pavement. He texts Ian after 30 minutes, saying that he will be late, not waiting for a reply before putting it back in his pocket. He knows Ian's calling him by the constant annoying buzzing in his pocket, but he ignores it. This is work, and his personal shit can't get in the way of that. Mickey's not sure where Leon is taking him, but hopes it's not a dark alley where he can murder him or some shit.
They hop into the L after a while, getting off after five stops. Mickey kind of remembers this neighborhood, knows that it's not exactly the greatest thing this city has to offer. Southside. Not the shittiest part of it, but still pretty fucked up. He knows from the files that Leon grew up here, though, so he stays silent.
“Gonna tell me where we're going yet?” No answer. “Okaaay.”
There's another few minutes of them just walking, walking towards something, when they enter a skateboard park. It's not much, full of graffiti and used beer bottles, but it feels peaceful, with them being the only ones there. Leon looks around, nervous again, before sitting down on the ground and. Waiting? For someone?
“Who you waiting for?” Mickey asks before sitting down next to him as well.
Leon still doesn't budge, instead chooses to ignore the question. “You didn't have to come with me.”
Mickey sighs. “Yeah, I kinda did. Besides, what crazy fucker doesn't love a nice walk at midnight through the Southside of Chicago?”
Leon's facade breaks and he smiles, if only just a little, right before becoming stoic again. “I won't go back.”
“Okay.”
“You can't make me,” he adds on, glancing in Mickey's direction.
“Okay.”
“So just … don't bother trying.”
Mickey smiles, laying down on the ground and looking at the sky. “I won't.” He doesn't think he can spot any stars, not in Chicago anyway, so he stares into the dark. It's like this for a while, them just staring, not saying anything, but soon someone's gonna break the silence. It's always like that. And in the end it's the boy.
“I know what you're doing, you know,” he murmurs, glaring at Mickey.
“Hmm?”
“You're trying to guilt trip me into going back. But I can't. Not until I know she's safe.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, cursing under his breath. She. “Fuck. Forget I said that.”
Mickey might have an idea what this is about, having read Leon's file. He knows he has a baby sister, who sadly couldn't get placed with him when they were taken into the system. He knows they were a real tight, ride or die kinda family. It reminds him of Mandy a little. So, instead of asking the obvious question, he asks: “Why wouldn't she be?”
Leon looks a little shocked that he knows, but doesn't question it. Instead he huffs bitterly, scratching his face. “You don't get it,” he says, shaking his head. “We were never supposed to be separated. It was just supposed to be us against the world. No fucking foster homes and social workers.”
“I know that feeling,” Mickey murmurs, biting his lip, not yet daring to look at anything but the sky. “So is this where you're supposed to meet?”
Leon nods and smiles. “Home,” he confirms, tasting the word on his tongue.
“It's a pretty shitty home, then,” Mickey counters, shrugging. “But I mean, me and my sister used to sleep under train tracks whenever our parents got fucked up or fought, or both, so.” Leon exhales shakily, that sentence probably hitting a little too close to home. “And you're wrong, by the way. I do get it. I was as old as you when we were put in the system, and the first thing this fucking government did was take away the only family I had left.” He remembers the first group home alone with Mandy, so young and so, so frightened. So pissed. No wonder he was only in there for like a week. “Felt like I'd failed. Like I was supposed to take care of her or whatever. Been doing it my whole life.”
“How'd it go?”
“It was shitty, and real fucked up, but I managed,” he says, huffing and crouching down again.
Leon starts furiously shaking his head, his entire body bouncing with it. “You don't get it.”
“I just told you-” Mickey starts, but gets interrupted by a distraught teenager.
“No, you don't know what happened the last time I didn't take care of her!” Leon screams, abruptly standing up and pacing around. He's murmuring to himself, but Mickey can still hear it. “One fucking time and that motherfucker tried to … he …” Of course. Kinda knew it would've been something like this.
“Someone tried to hurt her,” he concludes, feeling a lump in his throat burn. There's a flash of Mandy's face in front of his face, make up smugded and running down her face. 'I'm pregnant.' Leon goes silent, looking at the ground. He knows who 'someone' is, or can guess. Assaulted last foster parent. Aggressive. Violent behavior. Unsocial. Lost cause. Next.
Mickey can see fear shining in his eyes. “That why you got into juvie? 'Cause you protected her?”
“I just wanted him to get his hands off her, but he wouldn't stop. He just …” The way he says it breaks Mickey's fucking heart. He's just a kid. A kid that was left to fend for himself and his sister. The parallels are uncanny.
“Leon,” he starts, carefully, so as not to spook the boy, “she's not gonna show.”
“Yes, she is! We promised-”
Mickey stands up, wiping the dirt off his jeans, suddenly feeling incredibly younger than he is, more vulnerable. Sixteen again, in a white hospital gown and tubes pushed into his veins. Even without Mandy here she's still on his mind. His fucked up memories are still on his mind. “I know you did. But she can't. She's most likely in another group home somewhere, maybe even in another city, and missing you.” Leon starts pacing around again, cursing under his breath. “Leon, come on man, look at me. Leon. I can help you. Do you wanna see your sister again?” He looks up at that then, confused but intrigued. “Yeah? But first we gotta get back. And you gotta trust me. Do you?”
Leon's brows furrow. “No.”
“Thought so,” Mickey says, grinning and playfully hitting him on the shoulder. “But you can try.”
–
He calls Ian to give him the directions, and he picks them up soon after in his shitty car, honking like an idiot and yelling “Taxi” at them. Leon's visibly tired and immediately starts falling asleep on Mickey's shoulders ten minutes into the ride, but Mickey doesn't mind. “I like your sister,” Ian says conversationally from the wheel. “She says to tell you that I'm hot and that we need to be back ASAP or she's gonna have our asses.”
Mickey sighs, mindful not to wake Leon up. “Sounds like her.”
The car ride isn't that long, and soon they're already handing a tired, sleepy and disappointed Leon to Karen's snarky “Welcome back, kiddo” and driving to the club. Ian keeps insisting it's not that bad, but Mickey's nervous during the whole ride. Not because of the club, but because he's never introduced one of his boyfriends to Mandy. Hell, he's never even had any other boyfriend that lasted more than two months. The only time she met one of them was 10 years ago, when their frightened and blue eyed neighborhood boy had to testify in court. Just thinking about that, his relationship track record, makes Mickey want to scratch his skin raw, but he forces himself to instead play with his thumbs instead. The scar from their last trip still feels fresh and warm, pulsing.
It's not as bad as he thought it would be when they make their way through the crowd. I mean, there are a shit ton of guys in tiny shorts and exotic drinks but well. Could be worse. The music's not too loud, either, so he doesn't immediately feel like getting a headache.
Mandy punches his arm, hard, as greeting, right before going into a tight hug. He lets her, smelling the perfume in the nape of her neck, and immediately feeling calmer. Home.
“An' here I thought you weren't gonna show!” she screams, clearly tipsy but happy, her hips swaying to the music in an offbeat tune. She laughs for no reason in particular, and that voice alone makes Mickey feel like a little bitch, lump in his throat and his hands shaky. He missed his sister.
“Got hold up at work,” is all he says, and she gives him a knowing look, right before pushing a beer bottle into his hand. “Guess you were busy flirting with my boyfriend.” He feels weird using that word but really, who fucking cares? It's worth it by the warm smile Ian gives him.
“Damn,” she says, grinning. “When you moving in?”
Ian drapes his arm over Mickey's shoulder, and Mickey only lets him because it feels nice. He grins at her, in that crooked way of his, and sways a little on his feet, dragging Mickey with him. “When we have time to move all his stuff out and into mine,” he screams over the music, saying it so easily. As if it's no big deal. As if Mickey isn't completely new to this, whatever the fuck this is.
Mandy's face is absolutely fucking priceless. She almost looks like a fish with her mouth open like that. “Wait, are you for real? Are you fucking shitting me?” She turns to Mickey, probably waiting for his confirmation, so he just shrugs.
“Got drunk and asked him,” he says, as way of explanation.
Mandy screeches and almost nearly crushes him in her fierce hug. “FUCK! I can't believe it! Somebody finally made an honest man outta my brother.” She laughs into his neck, whispering “I'm so happy for you, shithead” without Ian hearing her.
Ian starts laughing, so Mickey's immediate reaction to such a huge display of emotion is of course a “fuck off”, but Mandy just grins and drags him onto the dance floor, despite his loud protest. It's gonna be a long fucking night.
–
Mickey's already pleasantly drunk (and got hit on twice, much to Ian's annoyance) when he and his sister make their way outside the crowded club to have a smoke break. Ian's in there somewhere, probably dancing or talking to someone. He hasn't had even one drink and Mickey's kind of proud of him for that.
He's fumbling with his lighter, the cool night air refreshing on his skin, when Mandy starts speaking. “I like him,” she says, grinning. She was always such a sappy drunk. “And you're happy.”
Mickey huffs, finally getting a hang of lighting his cigarette, inhaling deeply before giving it to Mandy. “What happened to that Danny guy?” he asks, smoke blowing out of his nostrils.
She shrugs with the cigarette in her mouth, biting her lip. “He was a pussy.”
Mickey grins. “You always date pussies.”
“And you fucking date freckled giants, apparently.” She punches him in the arm. Her aim's a little off. “We have weird taste in men. Daddy issues, I guess.” She's grinning, all teeth and her black bangs falling into her eyes, and she looks so much like mom he just has to smile along. “We're so fucked up, man. I can't even sleep with someone, like literally sleep next to someone, without freaking out. The first time Danny stayed over I had a nightmare and punched him in the face.” Her smile changes into a sad one, but it's still there. He knows what she's trying to say. I miss you.
“Yeah, I get 'em, too.” Me too. She hands him his cigarette back and he eagerly accepts it, lucky to have something to do with his hands. The smoke filling his lungs calms him down. “Dunno what the fuck I'm doing.”
“You're trying to live with it, just like I am. We got dealt a shitty hand in life, but we're trying. We're fucking trying, Mick.” Mickey gets a sudden memory from years before, all painted in white colors, white sheets, white hospitals gowns. A stark contrast to the dark tears running down Mandy's face. 'I'm pregnant,' she'd said, sniffling and holding his injured hand so tight it hurt. 'Please, Mickey, we can't do this anymore. He needs to go, we need to send him away. Forever.'
Mickey sniffs, biting his lip and grounding the cigarette butt on the concrete. “Yeah, guess we are.” 'He needs to go.'
–
The drive home is difficult, to say the least. After driving Mandy home and saying goodbye, Mickey's been feeling kind of weirdly content. He's drunk as fuck, that's probably why, and when he drinks he gets sappy (Mandy's not the only clingy and sappy drunk in the family), but he just. Happy. That's what it is. He's happy. And it's so fucking weird.
Ian's currently helping him out of the car, supporting all his body weight, when Mickey starts speaking into his neckline. “I really like your face.”
His idiot of a boyfriend is taken aback at first, closing the car door and not knowing how to react to that exactly, except an amused “Okay”.
“Ian?”
“Hmm?”
“Did ya know that your face is really nice? Cuzz it iss.” He laughs at that, making their way towards their door. (their door, holy shit)
“No, Mick,” he says, exhausted, trying to put his key into the hole. “I did not know that. But thanks for telling me.”
“'re welcome.”
They finally make their way into the apartment, not even bothering to dress out of their clothes before falling down into the bed. Ian ends up lying half on top of him, but he likes his solid weight, so he's not exactly complaining. Mickey starts nuzzling himself into Ian's warmth. “Fuckin' …. alien lookin' …”
Ian laughs loudly, his chest falling up and down rapidly. “Go to sleep, Mick.”
“Don' tell me wha to do,” he murmurs, already halfway to sleep. He can hear Ian's “Okay, Mick” right before falling asleep, the smell of Ian everywhere.