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Sometimes Ian would come in bruised. When Mickey would ask, he would brush it off, make a joke about how he thought Mickey didn’t care.
He didn’t.
Or at least that’s what he would tell himself while looking at the redhead’s bruised face.
But truth be told he did care what happened to the younger Gallagher. A lot. And that scared him.
He’d see them while they were fucking too. Bruising on his arm, his ribs. It wasn’t often, but Mickey noticed when they were there.
He was late. Ian was never late.
Mickey had been at the store for a hour already, and considering he was 20 minutes late, that makes Ian a hour and 20 minutes late.
Which is insane for Mr “always on time”
Mickey decided to walk to the Gallagher house and find the little fucker
After knocking on the door Ian’s brother answered. What’s his name? Some part of the face, something stupid. Lip! It was Lip.
“Yes?”
“Gallagher here?” He asked placing his cigarette between his lips.
“Gonna have to be more specific.” Lip raised his eyebrow.
“You know the redhead, about this tall” he held his hand a little above his head. “Y’know slim figure, big shoulders, talks a lot, kind of awkward.”
Lip didn’t look impressed.
He gave in “Ian. Is Ian here?”
Mickey glanced over Lip’s shoulder to see the oldest Gallagher scrubbing blood of the kitchen tile.
“Where is he man, come on.”
“He’s not here.” He insisted. Lip's voice carries over the entire fucking floor, which, rude.
“Alright how ‘bout you tell me where he is, or I can break your neck.” He held his cigarette between the F and U of his FUCK tattoo.
“I really don’t know where he is.”
Just as he was about to respond another Gallagher sibling spoke.
“Fiona, Ian asked if you could bring him a ice pack to help with-“ Carl thrilled of when he saw Mickey at the door “what’s he doing here.” Carl asked.
“Leaving.” Fiona answered. Moving past Lip and closing the door.
Well fuck you too Fiona Gallagher.
——
Ian came in the next morning with a bruised cheek.
“You join a fight club?” Mickey asked biting his lip.
“What’s the first rule of fight club again?” He replied.
“Come on man. You okay?” He was nervous. Why was he nervous?
“I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
Ian doesn’t look at him. He shrugs, shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Really, what happened to your face then?” Ian rolls his eyes. “What happened to yours?”
Mickey gets it. He doesn’t like to talk about that shit either. Not when it’s him that’s bloodied and bruised.
“Ian.” Ian. Mickey never calls him Ian.
“How come every time I try to ask you about shit like this you can just… shut down. Shut me out” Ian complains. “Why can’t I do it to you? Why do you care anyway?”
“I don’t. I ju-“
“You wanna keep talking or you wanna get on me?” Ian said just as Mickey had many times before.
Yeah, they could talk about this later.
——
Later turned out to be a lot later than expected. Ian went to the army, became a stripper, Mickey got married. Against his will, but still married.
And now Mickey was hiding from his wife out in the Gallaghers house. He’d been there for about four days now. Ian had tried to convince him to sleep with him in his bed, but Mickey always said no.
He didn’t want to.
He did.
He didn’t need to.
But he wanted to.
The floor is perfectly fine
But Ian’s arms would be better.
Ahgga what the fuck is wrong with him. He doesn’t want Gallaghers big stupid arms around him, especially not when his brothers are in the same room. No thank you. Who knows what people they could tell?
He had been sitting on the couch when it happened.
“You know after every thing I’ve done for you guys, you’d think that I’d at least be welcome in my own home.” Frank yelled.
He looked up to see the oldest Gallagher pulling Frank out towards the back door.
“And you.” Frank turned to Ian who was standing in the kitchen. “You’re the worst, always kicking me out of my own family when you’re not even really apart of it. I deserve to be here just as much as you.” He took a step closer, actively caging Ian between his body and the counter.
Mickey started getting up. When he noticed how scared his boyfriend looked. They stared at each other for a second.
Then Frank swung. His fist made contact with the younger boy’s face causing his head to hit the cabinets behind him. The commotion knocking over a plate and cutting open the redheads arm.
Mickey and Fiona moved at the same time. Fiona grabbed her father’s arm while Mickey reached for his boyfriend.
Mickey grab his face turning it towards him Ian flinched at the contact “Hey hey it’s ok” there was blood coming from his already bruising nose, no doubt a bigger one on the back of his head from hitting the cabinets.
Ian turned to leave, Mickey tried to grabbed his hand but he was already upstairs. Fiona met his eyes with a worried expression. He nodded back to her.
He walked over to the stairs. just as he made it to the last step he saw her locking the back door.
Upstairs Ian was locked in the bedroom. Mickey gently tapped his tattooed knuckles on the door
“Go away” Ian says, but his voice is wobbly. Mickey licked his lips looking away.
“You okay in there Gallagher?” He didn’t answer. “Ian, come on man, I know you’re in here.”
“Ian-“
“Go away Mickey.” It comes out quieter than Mickey expects it to be, the end fading into a whisper.
“Come on man just let me in.” He sighed. After a minute the door unlocked. Mickey rush in. And Ian was just standing there looking down his shoulders tense, his fingers fidgeting at his sides, his face all bloody and just starting to bruise. Red coats his mouth and nose.
“You alright?” Ian gave a tight nod.
“Come here.” And then they were hugging, a hard bone crushing hug. Mickey ran his fingers through the younger boy’s red hair, Ian started sobbing. “You’re ok, you’re ok.” Ian’s breath dropped as he started struggling to breathe.
Mickey pulled away to look his boyfriend in the eyes “hey it’s ok, Ian, you’re ok, just breathe.” Mickey placed his hand on his chest. “It’s alright.” Mickey had his fair share of panic attacks, not that he would admit it but he did. He knew what helped and what didn’t. He grabbed Ian’s freckled hand in his tattooed one.
“It’s ok, just in, and out, come on.” Ian’s teary eyes met his. “In, and out.”
Ian’s whole body shudder as he inhaled a trembling breath. Mickey squeezed his hand even tighter.
“Good, again, come on.” Mickey placed his forehead against Ian’s, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in and out. Ian followed. “Good, that’s good.” The older boy rubbed his hand up and down his back.
Now that Ian’s breathing had slowed, they could clean up his face. Mickey sat Ian down on the toilet seat, he watched as his boyfriend wet a towel in the sink.
Mickey brought the old towel to his face Ian flinched as the cold water soaked towel made contact with his skin. Mickey’s heart hurt for him. He looked so scared earlier, and judging by Fiona’s reaction or rather lack of reaction, plus all the bruises Ian never wanted to talk about. This was a regular thing in the Gallagher house. Which I mean pretty much every south side father would hit they’re kids.
Mickey knew Frank was a terrible father, everyone knew. But hitting? It didn’t even seem like he’d ever be around enough to. From what Ian’s told him, Frank usually isn’t there, and when he is they kick him out.
Mickey tried to hide the sadness from his face. “How often does Frank hit you guys?”
He looked down. Mickey watched as Ian bit his lip.
“Not usually.” He shrugged, looking away from Mickey, almost embarrassed. Mickey just looked sad. “It’s only sometimes” he sighed.
Frank didn’t hit often. Except for when he did, but for it to offend he would actually have to be at home regularly. When he did hit, he hit hard, fast, unexpected. He left more than a few bruises.
“and he only hits me.” He muttered. Fiona said it was cause he looked the most like Monica, but it could also be because Ian wasn’t Frank’s son, granted they had only figure that out a couple years ago. Maybe on some level Frank knew. It definitely got worse after he found out.
Mickey’s sadness turned into anger, he was pissed, I mean he was pissed before but now?
“Why.” Mickey asked his anger lingered at the edges projecting across his voice.
“I don’t know, it’s not a big deal.”
Not a big deal. That’s exactly what Mickey would tell Mandy, that it wasn’t a big deal, that it didn’t matter. He had lied, just like Ian’s doing right now.
He made a mental note to beet the shit out of Frank next time he saw him.
“Why haven’t your siblings done anything?” He asked.
“What can they do anyway.” Ian never fought back why should he expect them to, and they always stop him, they just don’t try and prevent it from happening. Ian couldn’t really blame them nobody could really stop Frank from doing anything.
“Can I see your arm?”
Ian wanted to answer, but he was scared that if he even tried to open his mouth to say a word he’d burst into tears again so he nodded and held his arm out to his boyfriend.
Mickey took the boy’s arm in his hands, the cut was about 3 inches long on his forearm and not very deep, the blood had drifted down his his freckled skin from his forearm to across his elbow. It wasn’t necessarily a bad cut but it wasn’t a good one.
Mickey took the rag from earlier pouring hydrogen peroxide on it and began cleaning the wound. Ian didn’t flinch when the hydrogen peroxide burned under his skin, he didn’t say anything.
It was quiet that morning, happy, Mickey woke up to Ian kissing him. It was a good day, until this happened.
“Alright.” Mickey said as he finished wrapping Ian’s arm in gauze. “Let’s get some clean clothes.”
He tugged the younger boy by his good arm. And brought him to his room. After stripping Ian down to his boxers he pulled a clean t-shirt from the dresser.
They laid in Ian’s bed. Ian’s bed. Mickey never wanted to sleep in his bed. “I thought you weren’t gonna sleep in my bed.”
“Yeah well, I made an exception.”
“Good.”
——
Mickey woke up to the door opening with Ian sleeping on his chest.
The door opened followed by Fiona. leaning against the door frame.
“He doing alright?” She nodded her head towards Ian. Mickey didn’t like how calm Ian’s family was about this.
“Yeah, yeah he’s just great.” Mickey saw the guilt in her eyes before she looked down.
“Look i-“
“What? What could you possibly have to say to me right now.”
“I know you and Ian are… whatever you are, but if you’re just here for a quick fuck then-“
“Oh fuck you Fiona. I’ve been here for years and I’m not leaving now, maybe you’d know that if you actually gave a shit about Ian.”
“Of course I-“
“Do you? Because if you did maybe you’d have done something about this.” He nodded to Ian’s bruised face. Fiona left without another word.
She was obviously pissed, Mickey was pissed too. Mickey was just pissed for the right reason. Fiona was only upset because someone called her out on her shit.
Mickey kept his eyes on the door until Ian started moving around on top of him. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Ian slowly nodded opening his eyes.
“How’s your face?”
“Mmm, feels like I got punched by some drunk bastard.” He turned his face back into Mickeys chest, the older boy runs his hands through Ian’s hair, his fingers gently stroking through the ginger strands.
“I think Fiona’s making breakfast if you wanna go down.”
“No, I think i’d rather get all the Mickey Milkovich cuddles I can get.” He mumbled. Mickey rolled his eyes.
“No really, I don’t know when I’ll get another chance.” He continued.
“Fuck you.”
“Aren’t I the one who normally does the fucking? But I mean if you wanna-” He said sarcastically.
“Ok, ok, Jesus Christ, if you don’t shut up I’m gonna leave.”
“No you won’t.” Ian said with that stupid smug look on his face, and the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.
Mickey wouldn’t leave.