Chapter Text
Mickey turns the tap on and places his hand under the running water. He watches the basin turn a faint red and tries to ignore how much everything hurts. His knuckles sting like a bitch, but from his reflection it’s obvious that Mickey’s right eye caught the worst of it.
Fucking Soc apparently knows how to throw a punch. The only thing keeping Mickey from feeling entirely pissed is remembering the sound of a slight crack as Tony had stepped on the fucker’s wrist. And the guy sure as hell deserved it too – what else did he expect, coming into Greaser territory with little to no back up? The stupid fucker had been asking for it, taunting at Mickey and his brothers, acting like a regular northside piece of trash.
Mickey prods at his bruises one last time before sighing at his reflection. He picks up his comb, greases it up, and then brushes his hair back with a practiced ease.
Lip Gallagher, the little shit. Thinks he’s better than Mickey just ‘cause he’s a Soc. Mickey had been fine with letting the fucker mouth off, whatever, until Lip had mentioned Mandy’s “loose tendencies”. After that, Mickey and Tony gave him a proper beat down.
Mickey snorts out loud at the guy’s stupidity. What the fuck was he trying to achieve, anyway? Lip Gallagher apparently has a death wish.
*
Fucking Socs with their souped up Mustangs and varsity jackets.
Mickey can see that the drive-in theatre is practically swarming with them. He almost turns around, tempted to flake off the whole thing, but then he remembers Mandy waiting for him at the bleachers. And shit, he doesn’t want to leave her alone with all these Socs crawling around.
When he gets there though, he sees Mandy laughing and joking with some guy and it’s clear that she’s in no trouble. The first thing Mickey notices is that the guy is smiling with a level of happiness Mickey thought wasn’t possible around this part of town. He’s good-looking too, nice clean face and bright eyes. But Mickey’s eyes zero onto his ironed plaid shirt, and then the soft-looking shock of red hair. He realises that this guy’s a fucking Soc.
He steps over to them and crosses his arms, well aware that he’s blocking their view.
“Mickey, get out of the way. We’re missing the good bits.”
Mickey ignores his sister and eyes the Soc. “Who the hell are you?”
The guy smiles all sweet, but Mickey feels like he’s getting laughed at. “Ian Gallagher. Nice to meet you.”
“Gallagher?” Mickey snorts. “So you’re related to the stupid shit who got his ass handed to him today?”
Ian raises his eyebrows, “So you fucked up my brother’s wrist?”
“He got what was coming to him,” Mickey says. He looks at Mandy and unwillingly remembers Lip’s comment. He can’t stop himself from blurting out, “Don’t tell me you’re fucking this guy.”
Mandy makes an indignant noise and Ian the Soc almost chokes on his cola.
“You’re kidding me,” Mandy crosses her arms. “First of all, no, we just met. As a matter of fact, he’s sitting next to me ‘cause a couple of Socs were bothering me and he’s keeping them away.”
Mickey opens his mouth, but Mandy doesn’t let him interrupt. “And second, what’s it to you if I sleep with him?”
“He’s a Soc!”
“He’s a nice guy!”
“He’s also sitting right here,” Ian interjects. He looks a little embarrassed, even in darkness; Mickey can see a faint blush slowly colouring his pale, freckled skin.
“You look nothing like your douche brother,” Mickey says abruptly, and Jesus, it’s like he doesn’t have control of his own mouth all of a sudden.
Ian shrugs. “Technically we’re half brothers,” he says mildly, but then he freezes and his eyes widen. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone that before.”
Mickey almost smirks. Looks like blurting things out is becoming contagious. For a moment Ian just stares at Mickey.
“…Okay, like I was saying,” Mandy seamlessly breaks the weird tension that was filling the air. “I can date whoever I want Mickey. And it’s not like it matters whether they’re a Soc or a Greaser. Everyone else doesn’t give a fuck, so why should we?”
Mickey’s about to reply to Mandy’s stupid question when Gallagher interrupts.
“Yeah I kinda agree,” he shrugs. “Sometimes it feels like our whole lives revolve around messing with you guys. Don’t get me wrong; some of you are fucked up trashy pieces of shit, but obviously you’re all not like that.”
Ian smiles at Mandy and it seems fucking genuine. Mickey feels like he’s been knocked over the head.
He snorts though, trying to cover up his confusion. “Yeah. Sure. I don’t know what world you live in, but shit doesn’t work that way… Anyway, how are you even saying this while the guy who beat up your brother is standing right in front of you?”
“Perspective,” Ian answers, like it’s that simple. “I know for a fact that Lip does stupid shit to rile you guys up so I guess he did have it coming.” Then the fucker smirks. “And it looks like he got in a few good punches so I’m not too bitter about it.”
Mickey doesn’t know how to reply to that, and it’s just as well because suddenly all his brothers and buddies are all over the place, greeting Mickey and Mandy with shoulder-shakes and half-hugs – and basically making a scene out of saying hello.
Mickey’s used to it though, so he grins at his friends and gives Benny a lighter when he asks for one.
He looks towards where Gallagher and Mandy are sitting and hears him say something about how Mandy is probably safe from dumb Socs now. Mickey watches from the corner of his eye as the guy gives Mandy one last smile before sliding off his seat. He keeps his head down as he leaves, which is probably a smart move because no one’s noticed yet that the guy’s a Soc. Mickey’s surprised that he’s actually feeling a little relieved, but it’s probably because he doesn’t exactly want to deal with another fight right now.
He lights up a cigarette and watches Gallagher walk away, completely alone. It’s a weird sight, because Mickey’s never really seen a Soc completely alone before. Usually they have their pretentious buddies or a cheerleader girlfriend hanging off their arm. But something tells Mickey that Ian Gallagher is far from the usual.