Chapter Text
Every morning Mickey wakes up feeling grateful. Or as grateful as Mickey Milkovich can be which, admittedly, is not a whole lot.
Every morning he wakes up a little bit scared too and has to look around to make sure that he is in New York, and not in the Southside of Chicago, with his piece of shit father sleeping next room and useless brothers snoring loudly surrounded by dirt and guns. He hasn’t seen them in almost three years but he can’t shake off this habit. Because as long as they are alive they can still find him, even if it’s not very likely.
Life is as good as it gets for a male Milkovich, he supposes. He rents a decent flat, has decent jobs and finally no one kicks the shit out of him just because he can, because he hates what Mickey is. And then there is his sister, finally living with him, working on becoming the first Milkovich to get a degree. Mickey is proud of her, though he’ll never tell her that. He might be a waste of space, but Mandy always deserved better. They didn’t grow up together which is probably why she is like that. She had a skank phase when she banged more guys than any other girl around, wore skirts short enough to show her ass, and still has dirty mouth, but it’s nothing like what Mickey has.
Their parents are the same, but when their mother finally decided that she was done with their father she took Mandy with her, disgusted with male Milkoviches, no matter how small they were. Maybe he shouldn’t blame her, Terry has never been a decent human, but he did. He was only five when she fucked off, he did nothing wrong to her, and yet she decided he wasn’t worthy of her love. His older brothers were already showing signs of becoming like Terry, but he was fucking five…
It was when the real abuse started, everything before seemed almost like a game in comparison. Mickey clearly remembers being six and crying because glass from a broken bottle cut his foot, and he remembers Terry screaming at him, calling him a worthless pussy, and shoving him into the cabinet. It was the last time he cried in front of his father. He grew up to be a thug, got his knuckles tattooed by a piss poor “tattoo artist” at the age of thirteen for a sloppy blow job because yeah, Mickey Milkovich just had to be one of the things his father hated the most – gay. Or, like Terry liked to call it, ‘a dirty faggot AIDS monkey’. He did a good job of hiding it from people, even Mandy didn’t know, and they talked a lot even if they didn’t live together. He fucked girls to show off to his brothers, dealt with guns, coke and went to juvie for stealing. No fairy would be like that, right?
Of course he had to slip-up. One of his brother’s friends came over despite the fact that Mickey was the only one at home, and made it very clear what he wanted. The boy wasn’t sure he wanted to give him that, it wasn’t his first time or anything, but the guy was big, not really his type. He was seriously huge, with neck almost as thick as Mickey’s thigh, so he gave in, and Terry caught him with a dick up his ass. What happened after that is a bit of a blur, but he is pretty sure that if he didn’t manage to run away he’d be long dead. He was shy of eighteen and planned on getting away anyway, but having to do it even earlier didn’t help. He came back for his things when the house was empty and left for New York. First three months have been difficult, but not unbearably so. NY was different. Different was good in his books. At first it was hard for him to trick people into trusting him enough to give him a job, and he did few things he’d never tell anyone about, but he was smart enough to pretend that he was not as dangerous as he looked. He found an old guy who was willing to take on an apprentice and managed to become a pretty good mechanic. He also found a job as a bartender in a gay club. Personally he never drinks fancy stuff, but he does alright with mixing colourful, fruity drinks.
Mandy was supposed to come to New York right after high school, but she found a decent job and stayed another year in Chicago, saving money for college, even though her mother was willing to help her with bills. Extra money never hurts, and Mandy likes to party.
But she is in NY now, three weeks, and she got a part time job almost immediately after she started looking for one. Probably because she is a little bit nicer and friendlier than Mickey. Or maybe because she doesn’t have FUCK U-UP tattooed on her knuckles. He enjoys having her around, even if she spends most of her time at college, work or with her new friends. It’s nice because she is the only family he has.
Her mother calls at least once a week, and Mickey leaves if she calls while they’re in the same room. He wants absolutely nothing to do with her.
***
Mandy doesn’t bring her friends over because she knows Mickey doesn’t like new people, so he is surprised when he comes home on Friday and sees a redhead sitting on his couch, drinking his beer and laughing loudly. Mandy is sitting next to him looking happy, and Mickey doesn’t want to spoil it for her, but…
“What the fuck,” he says in a way of greeting.
“Hey assface, that’s Ian Gallagher! We go to the same college.”
Mickey grunts and goes to the kitchen ignoring the outstretched hand.
“Nice to meet you too, Mickey. Mandy told me a lot about you,” the redhead says, unperturbed by rude behaviour.
“Ian is staying for dinner, are you ordering pizza?”
“Yeah.”
He eats with them only because they wouldn’t leave him alone, and he is too tired to argue. He knows something is on even before they say anything, and wonders if he’ll have to beat up ginger a bit, just to make sure he understands the rules.
“So look, Ian doesn’t really have a place to stay, and I thought he could stay with us. We have a spare room we don’t need, and we’ll have more money to spend if we let him share bills.”
“What happened to your last place?” because Mickey assumes he had to live somewhere before, and it’s important to have some dirt on your future flatmate.
“It’s a bit… My landlord’s wife wanted me out.”
“Why?”
“…because I fucked him.” Ah, gay. He doesn’t have to break his legs after all, not yet.
“Whatever. Don’t be too loud, pay on time, don’t bother me, and we have a deal.”
Ian’s bright smile makes him sick.
Mickey starts his shift at the bar at 9PM, and he has plenty of time to change into work clothes before, at home, but he doesn’t. Mandy thinks it’s a regular bar, probably a hovel of some sort, and he wants it to stay that way. His work clothes just scream ‘gay bar’. He has to wear tight, black trousers and a vest which shows more than it covers, clings to him like a second skin and has some fucking glitter on it, or whatever that is.
In Chicago he wouldn’t be seen dead in it, but in New York he doesn’t have a choice, so he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes clients think he is some sort of a boy toy, despite his badass tattoos and permanent scowl, and try to feel him up. They think he is one of the pretentious, preppy dudes, he proves them wrong by squeezing their fingers so hard they cry, or by punching them. It rarely ever takes more than one, relatively weak punch to get the message across.
His boss thinks it’s hot, so he doesn’t even scold him for that. His boss generally thinks Mickey is hot, so there is a lot he can get away with.
“So I need to tell you something,” Ian looks uneasy. It’s a rare occurrence, so Mickey actually stops what he is doing to look at him. The redhead is a one, smug fucker most of the time.
“Yeah?”
”I’ve been here for two weeks already, and…”
“Spill, I don’t have a whole day.”
“I’m bipolar. I know you don’t really care, but we’re living together, so you should know. I’m on meds, so it’s alright, but I still get weird at times, don’t get freaked out if happens.”
Sixteen year old Mickey would have no idea what being bipolar meant and would definitely freak out. Hell, eighteen year old him would too. But now he knows better, it is what it is, and there is no point in making Gallagher worry about it even more than he obviously does. It doesn’t affect Mickey in any way, so he just mumbles ‘whatever’ and continues with his dinner. Ian smiles at him shyly, but he pretends not to see.
He spends as little time with Gallagher as he can. Not because younger man is bipolar, but because he could ruin Mickey. Ian is the kind of man that Mickey would go for when he was younger, the kind of man the old Mickey would give the dirty, twisted version of love that he was capable of. If they met when Mickey was a teenager they’d probably start banging, have a heated affair with lots of sex and punches thrown. They would quickly burn out, after few months or maybe two years, if they were lucky. Ian’s illness would tear them apart, or Mickey’s internalized homophobia would.
But Mickey is older now and knows better. He can’t say he is out and proud, since he still doesn’t want his family to know, but he is more open and finally listens not only to his body, but to his mind as well. And the sensible part of him thinks that the redhead is not for him.
In some ways, they’re similar, and Mickey is sure their sex would be amazing. Mickey knows sex, feelings and relationships may not be his forte, but sex definitely is. He has lots of it, there is one partner that can actually be considered a regular, and then there are others. Perks of working in a gay bar.
Ian brings guys home, not boyfriends, but one night stands or fuck buddies. Mickey is glad that he paid extra attention to walls’ thickness while choosing a flat because it definitely pays off now, he and Mandy can’t hear a thing when Ian has people over. Or maybe he is just careful. He doesn’t have any feelings for the redhead, but he knows he could develop them. Younger man is tall, hot and interesting, even Mandy wanted to bang him before she knew he is gay. It’s easy to fall for a guy like Ian, so Mickey ignores him, doesn’t even bother to get to know him better.
Which is why it takes him month and a half to learn that Gallagher is from the same neighbourhood, or at least used to be, before his sister found a better job and moved with him and his siblings to a better part of Chicago. It’s another person that got away, and it makes Mickey bitter. He had to fight his way out of this shithole, and it was anything but easy. It’s not fair, it’s not Mandy’s or Ian’s fault that no one ever cared about him enough to help, but he is not a saint. It’s okay as long as he keeps his bitterness to himself, no one needs to know about it.
***
The bell is ringing, Mandy is taking a bath, so Ian goes to open the door. He is positive it’s either for him or Mandy anyway, because the older man had no guests since Ian moved in three months ago. But it’s someone he doesn’t know, a guy slightly taller than him, build and handsome with a bright smile that disappears when he sees Ian.
“Is Mickey around?” the guy asks sounding rather uncertain. There is a curse from the kitchen and suddenly Mickey is right next to them.
“I got it, you can go now,” Mickey addresses Ian, and then adds a quick ‘What’s up?’ to the visitor.
“I need to talk to you about work,” man says and Ian swears he sees a hint of a blush on his flatmate’s cheeks.
“Uh, sure. Let’s go to my room.” There is something weird about the whole exchange, it’s obvious that both men are nervous because of him, but he doesn’t know why. He wants to, but Mickey rarely ever talks to him, so there isn’t much he can do. He tries to eavesdrop on them, obviously, but he doesn’t hear a thing during the hour the man spends in Mickey’s room. Mandy also doesn’t know anything about this guy. She begrudgingly admits that there are many things her brother is not telling her.
The man leaves, but Mickey stays in his room, not bothering to walk him out, and they don’t see him for the rest of the night.
Mickey enjoys cock in a way he was never allowed in Chicago. He is good at sucking it, can deepthroat like a porn star and loves it too. More than that he loves being fucked by one, likes them long and thick, and if anyone calls him a bitch for it, he can be sure he’ll get his teeth knocked it. It took Mickey years to accept that maybe wanting a dick in his ass doesn’t make him a bad person. Dealing drugs does. Beating people up does. But not taking it up the ass.
“So, your flatmate is hot,” it’s the first thing Jason, his boss, says when Mickey walks in, day after the encounter with Ian.
“Is he? What, you wanna fuck him? I think it can be arranged, he seems to be easy and into older guys from what I noticed.”
“I can’t be that much older, and he isn’t my type, I like ‘em small and angry,” Jason wiggles his eyebrows like a perv that he is. “But maybe you could tap that. Just an idea.”
“Yeah, no. I’m not fucking someone I live with.”
“If you say so. Come to me on your break then.” It’s a thing they have, but not a reason why he got the job. Jason is a good boss, never late with money, always taking into account his employees’ personal lives, and generally not a douchebag. He also knows how to deal with people who try to fuck him over, Mickey respects that. They get along pretty well too, they probably are friends if they ever bothered to label it. They also fuck rather vigorously, so term friends with benefits may fit even better. They’re not exclusive, there is no jealousy involved, it’s a very straightforward arrangement which Mickey appreciates more than he will ever admit. Also Jason actually likes him, and that’s a surprising, albeit pleasant, novelty.
It’s quite funny, but Jason really has a type, and he really likes small, angry, preferably dark-haired guys. Thugs. Mickey was quite amazed by how many gays found this kind of thing hot because, frankly speaking, hot would be the last thing he would say about himself. But Mickey never understood the big deal about having a type. He was good to go if the guy wasn’t completely hideous and had a huge dick.
Types were for fairies.