Chapter Text
Morning Mr. Gallavich?
Mickey woke up alone, again. Ian’s butt-crack-of-dawn running schedule was as regular as Mickey’s 8:15pm shitting schedule. It was a thing about Ian that annoyed him and that he loved at the same time. On days off he took the opportunity to have sex with Ian when his husband was already hot and sweaty.
“Don’t you dare shower, Gallagher!” he’d tell Ian every Sunday and Monday morning. “I want you sweaty!”
Today was not a day off, however, and he knew he’d have to take care of his morning wood himself, again. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and went to his favorite porn site. A quick search for James Jameson brought him to one of his favorite scenes with the tall, hunky redhead. Mickey grabbed a few Kleenex with his left hand while hitting play with his right thumb.
There really wasn’t a point in watching the scene. Mickey had seen it so many times he had it memorized. He set his phone down on Ian’s side of the bed while it played. He could picture the whole scene as he heard what little dialogue there was; each moan recognizable as to what was happening.
He closed his eyes and started working slowly then speeding up as the scene progressed. In his mind he was riding James Jameson who was really a placeholder for Ian. He came onto the Kleenex on his belly in less than the five minutes the free video lasted. It was just enough to satisfy him without much hassle. He could start his day without distraction, though today was not going to be a work day with Ian. Today was community service day.
Larry, his parole officer, said he had a job for him to do that day, and Mickey was obligated. He had another year of this shit to deal with, but as POs go, Larry wasn’t so bad. The first impression on the ride from prison with the fucking therapy session, including sock puppets, annoyed Mickey but when it came down to it, Larry was the best PO he could have.
Ian’s parole had just ended. A year had been added to Mickey’s parole a week before, thanks to him not heeding Ian’s concerns about carrying weapons at work. He knew it was stupid doing the run to Evanston alone and armed. They needed to move some surplus product from a dispensary in the north suburbs to one on the south side. He just wanted to get that day done and to get home for his steak dinner date with Ian.
Twelve years into their turbulent, on/off/on relationship, and they finally could go out for a real date. Mickey ruined it in the most predictable way possible, at least to Ian.
It was a dumb move, knowing that without Carl’s protection on the south side, he was tempting fate. At least he was smart enough not to drive the stolen ambulance on that run. He was in the rental they would get for runs on the downlow. One of Ian’s best ideas.
He was stopped by a K-9 unit of Evanston police, a block away from the freeway and freedom. The German shepherd barked like mad at the back of the black cargo van, giving them probable cause to search. The weed all panned out but the glock on Mickey's belt did not.
Larry turned out to be a great advocate for Mickey with the judge at the arraignment. The fucking public defender did less to keep him from going back to prison than Larry did. The judge sentenced him then and there since Mickey pled guilty. He was stopped, had an unregistered gun and was on parole. No argument necessary.
All he got was 400 hours community service to be done in a year. Basically one full day a week to finish. Doable. How that was even legal given sentencing minimums was beyond him, but he wasn’t gonna say a word. He just thanked the judge and Larry and bolted as fast as he could.
Today was the day he started the payback. Larry wasn’t the type of PO who gave you enough rope to hang yourself with. He was hands-on, dictating every move you made, finding you jobs, telling you where you were to live, never letting a day go by without some fucking “affirmation” bullshit via text.
Thanks to Ian’s charm and his Boy Scout appearance, Larry agreed to everything he proposed. He even helped them get the security business accredited, so the weed was legally transported. Larry was thrilled when Mickey gave him the new west side address. Especially when he complained Ian had signed the lease without Mickey’s permission. Larry loved him some Ian. The fat fuck.
Today Mickey was to report to Larry’s office at “Oh Nine Hundred hours”, whenever the fuck that was. Ian had to translate that for him as 9am.
Larry wouldn’t tell him what he’d have to do, or where he’d have to do it. He said something about helping Mickey with his “internalized homophobia”, yammering on about community and support and shit like that.
Fuck it, whatever. As long as he didn’t have to go back to the assholes in the yard in prison, he was good. He’d scrub graffiti off a gay bar wall and fill bullet holes no problem.
A quick shit, shower and shave brought him to the living room just as Ian came in from his run.
“Morning Mr Gallagher. You’re dressed to impress today.” Ian said as he kissed his cheek.
“Morning Mr Milkovich. Community service day. Gotta look the part. Do I look like an out and proud fag?” Mickey said, shaking the rainbow flag on his t-shirt. “From what Larry said, I’ll be in Boystown or something like that.”
“You’ll be in boystown alright! Just not the entertainment district. You’re dressed perfect for what you’ll be doing.” Said Ian, pulling up the front of Mickey’s shirt to rub on his stomach.
“Wait, you know about this?!” Mickey said as he backed away, his hand up to keep Ian away.
“Relax, Mick. Larry ran it past me first to be sure you wouldn’t give him any pushback. He made me promise not to tell you what it is.”
“Well what the fuck is it? Must be pretty bad if he checked with you!”
“It’s fine, Mickey. Really. Just get on the el so you’re not late. Give me a call when you’re at the spot. I wanna hear what you think.”
“Dammit Gallagher, you know I hate surprises! Fucking tell me!”
Ian put his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, turned him around, pushed him to the door, and said, “Go get ‘em, tiger!”
“Don’t fucking call me tiger, Paula!” Mickey said as he grabbed his backpack and opened the door.
“What the fuck, Mick! Forgetting something?!”
Mickey turned around, grabbed Ian’s sweaty collar, pulled him close, saying, “Fuck you, Gallagher.” before planting a kiss on Ian’s lips and bolting out the door.
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Morning Mr Millagher?
Ian felt his phone vibrate a half dozen times as he ran. He made decent enough time and distance to be satisfied so decided to take a break on the grass along West Douglas to see what the fuss was about.
4 messages from Debs. “I’ll read those later.”, he said to himself knowing he probably wouldn’t until he was bored. Debs was a train wreck, always in some emergency she created and demanding Ian bail her out or give her advice she wouldn't take.
Fuck Deb. The fact that she basically screwed him and Mickey out of fifteen grand didn’t encourage him to help her. Since she ruined any attempt Lip made to sell the house, Lip and Tammy moved in with their two kids and pushed Deb and Franny to the basement. Liam was in her old room.
Carl found a sweet bachelor pad with a cop friend. He called it Pussy Palace, and didn’t seem to understand it could mean he and his roommate are the pussies. Ian chuckled to himself thinking of that.
The other two texts were from Larry.
“Get your husband to my office on time!” Was the first. Larry tried his best to be a tough guy but failed miserably.
“Trevor says hi.” was the second. Fuck. Seriously? “Hi”?! “Fucking asshole.” He thought. “Whatever. Mickey will give him a run for his money later. Trevor has no idea what he’s in for today.”
Ian felt the familiar warm feeling in his chest rise to his cheeks as he thought of his husband. Sometimes, just thinking his name or hearing it mentioned brought up this warm feeling, and it always caught him off guard. He’d felt this way since he was 15. He had been in love with Mickey for nearly half his life. HALF! Yet Ian was still surprised every time it happened.
Ian had never heard of a gay person who married their high school sweetheart. That was only in the movies or TV; almost always straight people. Yet here he was, married, to Mickey fucking Milkovich! Again his chest tightened a little and he could feel the corners of his lips rise and his cheeks warm up.
“Fucking Milkovich.” He said to himself out loud. A passing power walker pushing a stroller heard him and gave him a sly smile.
“Ian?!” He heard from behind. “Is that really you?! Oh my God!” The female voice sounded so familiar and so strange at the same time. He turned around to see a blonde in yoga pants, breathing heavily with her hands on her hips.
“Mandy?! Holy fuck!! What the fuck are you doing here?!” He ran to her and grabbed her close in an embrace.
Mandy pushed him away, “I’m sweaty and gross, Ian.”
“Uh so am I.” Laughing at the strange way she said it. “How are you? You look amazing!”
“I’m wearing yoga pants and I’m all gross from jogging.” Mandy said sheepishly. The look on her face was familiar. Like when Kenyatta would leave her bruised and she said things like, “it’s not like there’s a line of guys at my door.”
The warm feeling he had thinking of Mickey gave way to a tightness of anxiety seeing Mandy. She hadn’t changed, not really.
She was dressed like any other west side yuppie on the jogging path along West Douglas, with a $500 dye job, but to Ian, she looked like the same scared teenager with low self esteem he fell for. Not romantically, of course, but he always loved Mandy. Always would.
“Let’s grab a coffee and catch up!” Ian said, probably a little too excitedly.
“I can’t right now, gotta get the kids off to school. But soon?” She took her phone out of her arm band. “Let me get your cell.”
“It hasn’t changed, Mandy. Same number I had last time we saw each other. Wait, kids?!” Ian said, a little confused.
“Oh, uh, I changed phones a lot since then. Lost all my numbers.” She said, stammering nervously.
“Ok, it’s 708-555-7356” Ian said as Mandy typed them in.
Ian felt his phone vibrate in his hand. “There, now you have mine. Let’s talk soon! Give Mickey a hug for me. I’m glad you made an honest man of him, finally.” Mandy said as she started to jog in place, then jogged away.
“Wait, how did you…” Ian shouted as she ran off. Mandy put two fingers in the air and kept running.
Ian took it easy walking home. He had to compose himself and think a little. Should he tell Mickey he ran into Mandy? Should he just play it cool and try like hell not to spill the beans about what Mickey was going to be doing today?
His mind raced a thousand miles a minute until he ran out of energy. The familiar darkness was closing in. Just walking became difficult, like his feet had stuck in mud and he had to strain to lift them.
“Happy thoughts, Ian.” His mind told himself. “Puppies. Kittens. Liam pulling a scam on unsuspecting white suburbanites at his private school. Lip with his kids. Mickey in the dugout all those years ago saying, ‘you wanna chit chat or do you wanna get on me?’”
That last thing was what he needed to finish the walk back to their apartment. The warm feeling returned and his cheeks flushed pink. He would make it to see those clear blue eyes and hope he doesn’t crash on the day he had to work alone. He knew at some point he would have to give in and up his dose, but for now, he could push through.
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Queer Trans Ex-Boyfriend.
Trevor clicked his pen repeatedly as he looked down at the file on his desk. He must have read it 30 times and still had no idea what was in it. A collection of letters and numbers that meant nothing.
Since Larry, the parole officer who sent him mandated volunteers, called him with the name of a potential peer supporter, he could think of nothing else. It wasn’t so much that a convict on parole was going to be working with his kids. It was this particular parolee that concerned him.
Mikailo Milkovich was the name. Not the kind of name one forgets, especially when it’s the name of your ex’s husband. The name of someone who brought up so many conflicting feelings. A name he associated with another name that made Trevor’s chest ache.
He never got Ian out of his head. The entire “Gay Jesus” episode, the numerous times Ian put his megalomania before his relationship with him, the closing of his youth overnight shelter thanks to his antics; none of these things deminished his love for Ian. Or was it obsession, or infatuation? His anger was just a placeholder for his love.
When Geneva told him about Ian’s wedding two years before, his chest tightened. He felt like he had been throat punched.
“Who’s the unfortunate fellow?” He asked her, as nonchalantly as possible.
“A guy named Mickey. Said he’s his high school sweetheart.” She offered. “Also his cell mate. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Adorable.”
Now he was going to find himself face to face with this legend. The man with whom Ian had decided to run off to Mexico. The man who beat Ian up on more than one occasion. The man whose father pointed a gun at Ian and made him watch Mickey have sex with a prostitute.
What was so special about this guy?! Why was everyone gushing over what a “great couple” he and Ian were?!
Ultimately it was curiosity that made him approve the volunteer placement. He had to see for himself the man who married the one who got away.
Mickey wasn’t a success or a redemption story, he was a criminal who got lucky. Lucky to have Ian in his life. Lucky that he stumbled on a powerful cartel to roll and reap the benefits of snitching. A thug with internalized homophobia.
Another reason Trevor agreed was the fact that he would be Mickey’s boss. The person who signed his volunteer sheet. He’d have the power to refuse and get Mickey locked back up. Not that he would actually do that, but he certainly would enjoy the power, and definitely would enjoy rubbing that in his face.
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Nobody’s a Hundred Percent Anything.
Mickey always hated the el. Every lowlife vagrant in Chicago practically lived on it. The pandemic gave the perfect excuse to wear a mask. Not that he believed this Covid BS. It did kill Frank, but he was half dead anyway.
He got off the el, one stop early thanks to some nut job staring at him. He’d look at Mickey’s face, making eye contact then look away. Then he looked down at his hands and his eyes got big, for some fucking reason.
Couldn’t be someone he was locked up with. He was a tall, bald, black dude in a Chicago Fire Department jacket. Kinda hot, but maybe it was the jacket. Firemen always went up three points on the hottie scale. Definitely not an ex-con. The CFD doesn’t have a habit of hiring felons.
He instantly regretted getting off when the dude got off at the same stop. No way was he following Mickey. Why the fuck would some kinda hot fireman check him out and try to pick him up on the el? He decided to play it safe and take whatever stairs down to the street the guy wasn’t using.
Mickey hopped down to the street and nearly forgot all about the fireman by the time he turned to walk towards Larry’s office. He looked up at the people coming the other way and there he was.
“Fuck, can’t shake this guy.” Mickey thought as he tried not to make eye contact as they passed. “Hope he’s not working for that cartel that’s after me.”
He just kept walking, looking at his feet when he felt someone bang into his shoulder.
“Watch where you’re fucking going!” Mickey said as he looked up to see the fireman.
The fireman just stood there, eyes fixed on Mickey.
“Dude, you got a problem? What the fuck?” Mickey said.
“Let’s go, tough guy.” The guy said, stopping a few inches in front of Mickey.
The guy towered over Mickey. Firemen workout a lot too and there was no way Mickey was going to scrap with the dude. Especially when he was literally on his way to see his PO.
“What’s your fucking damage, man?! I’m just walking here.” Mickey said, his hands up in surrender.
The fireman pulled down his mask, not losing eye contact with Mickey. “You like to fight, come on, fight me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mickey had no talent for de-escalating situations, and this was one he needed to de-escalate.
“Ian! I’m talking about Ian!!” Said the fireman, inches away from his face.
“How the fuck do you know my husb… Oh! Wait.You’re the fireman Ian dated?!” Mickey said. “Look man, I’m not looking for trouble. Just on my way to do some good for us queers and fulfill my parole.”
“Well you’ve hit a little snag. Ian told me what you did to him. The beatings, making him watch as you fucked a whore. The… Uh, hold on, did you say husband?!” Caleb said, a little stunned.
Mickey held up his left hand and pointed to his wedding ring. “What’d you think this was, a cock ring?”
“Ian? You’re married to Ian Gallagher?!” Caleb said, not hiding the disgust in his voice.
Mickey smoothed his eyebrow with his middle finger. “Look man, anything that happened between Ian and I is between us. We had a fucked up relationship when we were kids. From what I hear, you were getting a little pussy on the side yourself. Anyhow, that don’t compare to me being raped by a whore at gunpoint, does it? Now if you don’t mind, I got somewhere to be. I ain’t got time to be arguing with my husband's ex.”
With that, Mickey stepped to the side and continued walking. He didn’t bother to look back to see Caleb’s reaction. Fuck that bisexual motherfucker.
————————————————
This isn’t Me Anymore.
Ian barely made it on time for his first pickup of the day. Showering was a chore. Getting out of the shower was a chore. That and actually washing himself. He just stood there under the soothing water for a while before he pushed himself to lather up.
The darkness was starting to close in. He could feel it slowly build in his head and his muscles. A sort of dull pain that made it difficult to move. Usually by this point he was in bed, the covers over his head, hoping Mickey wouldn’t nag him to get up.
Mickey never really did that though. Nag. That was Ian’s job in the relationship. Mickey would just kiss his forehead, leave a glass of water and some poptarts on his nightstand, and head out for the day.
There seemed to be a routine to the way Mickey handled Ian’s depressive episodes. He’d leave him alone for about 24 hours. Never asking him how he was feeling, never asking him to get up. He’d come into the room every hour or so, kiss him, rub his head, but mostly he’d just let him be.
Then the next day he would bring him more substantial food, like a PB&J and iced tea or juice. “Eat up, firecrotch.” He’d say each time, never changing the script.
Since they’d been married, Ian hadn’t had an episode last longer than a few days. He would slowly move about the apartment on the second day, go out on one work run on the third, go for a short jog the morning of the fourth, then he was physically out from under it.
It took a week or more for him to feel anything. To taste the food he forced into his mouth. To feel that warm feeling of his love for Mickey.
Today he’d have to push through. He’d have to do the runs himself, regardless of how hard it was. He wouldn’t let Mickey down, or give him an excuse to miss his community service. Especially when what he was doing would get him more comfortable being gay.
For someone who didn’t fit the gay stereotype, Mickey sure did believe in them. He seemed to assume there was only one way to be gay, and that he wasn’t it.
Another reason Ian felt able to push through this time was because he recognized the trigger. Seeing Mandy really brought up things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. He also realized just how much he missed her.
Mandy was a person who loved Ian unconditionally, apart from Mickey. From the moment she found out he was gay, his torrid affaire with Kash, through his early diagnosis with bipolar disorder, all the fucked up shit that went on in her household, she was always there for him. That is until she wasn’t. Until she took off with Kenyatta, then ended up back in Chicago.
He hadn’t seen or heard from her since the time he helped her out with the dead john. He texted a week later and it didn’t go through. Then he called and the number had been disconnected. What had she been doing these five years?
Of course there was another trigger he didn’t want to think about. Trevor. He had made Larry promise that he wouldn’t tell Mickey that Ian had dated him. The condition was that Trevor wouldn’t say anything either. He was taking a huge risk sending Mickey there but he really wanted Mickey to get to know the kids at the LGBT youth center.
He never really knew why he hadn’t told Mickey about Trevor, though Ian gave him every detail about his relationship with Caleb.
Maybe it was the guilt he felt about what he did to Trevor. Maybe it was simply that he wanted to avoid discussing the time he left Mickey at the Mexican border. Ian just let Mickey assume that he was lying when he told him he had a boyfriend that night on the river.
Mickey wasn’t the type of guy who liked talking about the past. Especially any painful memories; of which they had plenty.
He also knew how jealous Mickey was. He’d always been jealous, and was terrible at hiding it; even when they were 15 and banging on the downlow.
Caleb was easy to tell Mickey about. It was Ian who ended the relationship because of what Caleb did. He made Caleb every bit the villain he had made Mickey out to be to Caleb.
With Trevor it was the other way around. Ian tried to get Trevor back for months, and when it did end, it was because Ian was off his meds and unhinged. Then he was in prison with Mickey, so the relationship never officially ended. There was no closure, and therefore unfinished business.
Ian’s phone vibrated again, the second time in a few seconds. Ian decided to pull over in case it was Mickey texting to be picked up; that he didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of gay kids.
There were two texts from the same unrecognized number.
“This is Caleb” said the first one; then, “Tell your husband I’m sorry.”
Confused, Ian decided to text back.
“What do you mean?! You saw Mickey??” He texted and hit send. “This number is blocked” was the response.
“Blocked?!” Ian thought out loud. “Text-and-run-Caleb strikes again.”
Ian sat in the ambulance that served as their work truck to gather his thoughts. “Great, Mickey gets to deal with two exes of mine today, and he doesn’t even know it.”
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Name me One Person I’ve Murdered!
Mickey stood in front of the Cook County administration building, having a smoke, still shaken by the run-in with the fireman; and the memory of the worst day of his life.
He hated that fucking building. The second worst day of his life was in that building. It was the place Ian wouldn’t sign the marriage license. Where Ian broke his heart, again. But a month later he was back, making an honest woman of him.
A warm feeling started to form in his chest. It continued up his neck and onto his face. “Fucking Gallagher.” he thought as he looked down to his feet. He could feel the tears beginning to form.
Fuck! “Not now, Feeling Fairie! I ain’t got time for this shit.”
This happened from time to time. He’d look at Ian, or even think about him, and the water works started. They’d been married two years, and he still couldn’t believe it. How did he get so lucky? This piece of south side trash married to the man of his dreams. A tall, hot redhead, who made him happy; was a powerhouse in the sack and made him a better person. Ian accepted him exactly as he was, but encouraged this version of himself he was beginning to accept and maybe like a little bit.
“Fuck. Better get in there.”, he thought as he walked up the stairs into the building. The same stairs he punched Ian on for not signing the license. That was the only punch he didn’t regret. Ian had the nerve to ask him how he felt, right after Mickey showed him. He signed the license, didn’t he? How the fuck did Ian think he felt?!
Once he checked in at the desk, he waited for Larry to come get him. He sent a quick text to Ian to tell him he made it to the office. He’d tell Ian about the run-in with Caleb later. At least they’d have something to talk about that evening.
Things had settled between them the past few months. Their routine became pretty predictable. Always together: work, home, amazing sex, Sunday dinners at the Gallagher house. Maybe this community service time was what they needed to change it up a little. Definitely better than Ian or him in solitary to get some time apart.
Larry came out to the reception area with his usual dumb smile. The spring in his step didn’t match his weight. He was the most cheerful PO Mickey had ever seen. Like Mr Rogers for criminals.
“How are you feeling today Mickey? Ready to do your part?” Larry said.
“Ready as I’ll ever be I guess.” Said Mickey, as cheerfully as he could muster. “So what’s the big secret? What am I doing?”
“I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s go.” Larry said, bouncing toward the door.
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Save the Fucking Speech you Pussy.
Trevor watched from the window of his office to see Larry and Mickey get out of Larry’s car. Mickey was shorter than Trevor imagined. He walked with the swagger of a mafia don or something; his arms far from his sides as if his muscles were too big. First impression, he looked small and kind of fragile. Like he had covered up his vulnerability in knuckle tattoos and attitude.
He was glad Cole was there to get Mickey started and to make the introductions. Cole was another volunteer on mandated community service. A ghetto queen, Cole was great with the kids. They loved his attitude and one-liners. He caused a few problems, creating drama where there was enough already, but it wasn’t anything more than a diversion for the kids, so Trevor didn’t do much about it. He would just lecture him for a minute until he could tell it wasn’t getting through.
Of course, Trevor didn’t tell him who Mickey was, at least not who he was in relation to himself. He just told him he was a new volunteer starting today and to show him around. Didn’t even tell him Mickey’s name.
He decided to go back to his desk and try to concentrate on something. Anything to avoid going out there and confront Mickey.
Just as he was sitting down, the office door swung open and Cole came running in, slamming the door behind him. He ran behind the desk and Trevor, as if to hide his six foot frame behind 5’7” Trevor.
“Is everything alright?” Trevor said, completely confused.
“Bitch, keep him away from me!”, said Cole. “That motherfucker punched me!”
Trevor turned around to find Cole sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, knees meeting chin, in a fetal position.
“Uh, okay? When? He literally just walked in.” Trevor said, looking out into the main room through the office window.
Just then Mickey was at the door. He knocked quietly, opened it a little and said, timidly, “Uh, hey, um, can I come in?”
“No, bitch, get the fuck out of here!” Cole yelled, tears flowing.
“Cole, he’s obviously not going to hurt you. Get up. This is ridiculous.” Said Trevor, suppressing a laugh as best he could.
Mickey came into the room slowly, closed the door quietly and inched closer to the desk, as if afraid he’d startle him. In that moment, Trevor thought Mickey looked kind of sweet and gentle. He didn’t expect to see this side of him so soon. He figured the kids would pull that out of him slowly.
“Look, Cole, I’m sorry I hit you, man. I feel bad about that. You didn’t deserve it.” said Mickey as he kept his distance in the middle of the room.
“So you really did punch Cole?” asked Trevor, placing his hands on his hips. “I can’t have you working here if you’re going to assault other volunteers.”
“It was a couple years ago, he was my then ex boyfriend’s rebound date. The night got a little out of hand.” Said Mickey, diminishing. Why was Trevor not surprised?
“Out of hand?!” Cole stood up, waved his index finger in the air. “Bitch, you knocked me cold while Ian beat the shit out of your date! Then my date proposed to you. Me and Byron heard that later ‘cause we were both knocked out.”
Trevor stood there, his mouth agape. He sat down on his desk chair, at a complete loss for words. He wasn’t expecting this. He expected a little drama from Cole, as he liked to stir the pot, but this was Jerry Springer level.
Trevor watched Mickey shift his weight from foot to foot. He seemed to be forming words but was at a loss.
“Th… That uh, that about sums it up. Uh, ya.” Mickey stammered, smoothing an eyebrow with his index finger.
Trevor raised his hand, “Um, I have some questions.”
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Billy Elliot Cornholing the Father of my Children.
Ian was on his last stop before lunch. It was the Alibi Room: South Side Chicago’s newest hipster dive bar and eatery.
The new owners had turned Kev Fit into a full kitchen, making the Alibi what the gentrifiers called a “gastropub”. He and Mickey made it a point to have lunch there often to support their neighborhood small businesses.
As gentrifiers went, the Alibis proprietors were alright. They didn’t change the look of the place much, even kept Stanley’s picture on the wall. They replaced the glass block windows with regular see-through glass, fixed up the bathrooms because the floor boards had become soft from decades of being pissed on. Other than that, it was a cleaner version of the place Ian had grown up in.
At the bar were the usual clientele. Tommy and Kermit sat at the far end, one stool between them. A couple third shift cops finishing their happy hours sat in the middle. At the end nearest the door was a new patron Ian hadn’t seen before. A woman, mid forties, long brown hair, a scowl on her face.
When Ian walked in he could swear he heard her huff. She looked away, concentrating on her shot and beer as Ian sat on the only available stool, right next to her.
“Hey Ian.” Said the bartender as she placed a Coke in front of him. “The usual?”
“Not today, Liz, thanks. I’m not very hungry. Just the coke will do.” Ian said, pulling out his phone looking for a text from Mickey. There was nothing since the text from Larry’s office.
“Where’s Mickey?” Liz asked as she pulled the silverware roll from the bar top in front of Ian.
“Community service for his PO. Just me today.” Ian said as the woman next to him huffed again, turning away from him.
Ian looked back at his phone. He didn’t understand why Mickey was radio silent. He obviously had a run-in with Caleb, and had probably been at the LGBT Youth Center a couple hours. He definitely had at least something to say.
It dawned on him that Mickey wasn’t like Ian. Ian liked to get everything out in the open. Deal with it right away, consequences be damned.
Mickey tended to clam up when a lot went on. He expressed himself through action. Not always a well thought out action, but action.
“God I hope Trevor isn’t on the ground being pummeled by Mickey right now.” he thought. Not that he cared about Trevor, but about Mickey losing his shit and ending up back in prison. He didn’t want to be a prison widow.
Suddenly he became aware that the woman next to him was staring at him. Ian looked away, deciding not to engage. This happened from time to time at the Alibi. Middle aged women seemed to hit on him a lot. Middle aged men as well.
The woman kept staring. Ian glanced over to find the same expression on her face as when he walked in. She scowled at him, and seemed to make a growling noise, though it was probably just the stare. Ian tended to imagine things when the darkness was coming.
“You really going to sit there and pretend you don’t know me, you little shit?” The woman said after a moment. “You fucking worked for me for five years!”
“Linda?! Oh, fuck!! Oh, man, uh wow!” Ian said. He was a little too animated by this, so much so it startled him more than seeing Linda.
“Ya, that’s what you say to the person whose life you destroyed. Whatever, asshole.” She said as she got up and headed toward the restroom.
“Linda, I’m sorry! Just, can we just talk about this? Please? Just… context you know ..”Ian called out to her as she stumbled toward the back and into the woman’s room.
“She’s been here a few hours. That’s her fourth round. How do you know her? Never seen her here before.” Liz asked, enjoying the excitement.
“I used to work for her at the Kash and Grab when I was a kid. Kind of a long story. It’s complicated.” Ian said sheepishly. “Hey, Liz, put what she’s having on my tab, and give her my card when she gets out. I can’t deal with this today.”
“Sure thing Ian.” Said Liz as she went over to the register and pulled out the envelope of the previous day's drop.
Ian placed his card on the bar where Linda was sitting. “Gallavich Security: Ian Gallagher and Mikailo Milkovich, Proprietors.” it said. Then he grabbed the drop from the bar and headed toward the door.
“Thanks Liz. See you tomorrow.”
“See ya, sweetheart.” Liz said as she poured from the tap. “Be careful out there!”
————————————————
Nobody Who Drives a Vespa can Fix Anything.
Mickey sat in Trevors office, not knowing what to say. Cole had stormed out of there with his phone to his ear.
“Honey, you’re not going to believe who I just saw!” Said Cole into the phone so loudly he could be heard in the office. “Girlllll! Get your ass over here and pick me up. I’m so over this bullshit!”
“That Cole’s husband on the phone?” Mickey asked. “I noticed the rock on his finger. Am I about to get a beating?”
“No, Byron’s harmless. He might sue you, though. His great uncles are the Koch brothers.” Trevor said with a chuckle.
“Byron?!” Mickey said, standing up. “Vespa driving redhead? Yay big?”
“Yep. You know him?” Said Trevor.
Mickey sat back down, smoothed an eyebrow, then put his head in his hands.
“Fuck” Mickey said, not meaning for it to be out loud. “Can I wait here a bit? I really shouldn’t be out there when Byron shows up. I kind of held him hostage for a few days.”
He looked up to see the look on Trevors face. A mixture of shock and worry, as if he might be in danger.
“It was to get my now husband back. I just wanted him to know I had options, you know. That I wasn’t gonna just sit around and wait for him like some bitch. It wasn’t my best moment.” Mickey said.
Today was really turning into a shit show. Not only did he run into the fireman, he had to sit here and talk about shit he’d let himself forget. When he did think about it, he just kind of thought of Byron as an opportunity to make Ian jealous. Only now did it occur to him that it really was a hostage situation.
“Ya, Ian requires grand gestures.” Trevor said with a chuckle. “Uh, like, you know, the whole Gay Jesus thing. He definitely pulled worse stunts than a sort of kidnapping.”
“Exactly. Thanks for being so cool, man. It’s been a day.” Mickey said, and meant it.
There was something about this Trevor guy Mickey couldn’t quite figure out. He seemed to know him. Like he knew Mickey really well but Mickey had never seen the guy before.
He didn’t get any weird vibes off him or anything. Just felt real comfortable with him. Mickey was not the type to “open up” to anyone, or tell any personal stories to, but for some reason, this Trevor dude heard more from Mickey than anyone. Except Ian, of course.
“So what’s this volunteer job? Larry didn’t tell me anything. My husband knew about it too, but kept it like it was some big secret or some shit.” Mickey asked.
“Oh, uh, okay. Basically you’ll be hanging out with the kids here at the center. LGBT Kids don’t have many role models in their lives; so we have adult volunteers hang around, talk, play video games with them, get to know an LGBT adult. We call it peer support.” Said Trevor.
“Really? Ex cons and people on court papers? You must really be desperate for help.” Mickey said, relaxing a little.
“Well, we tried to get other adults to hang around here; but these are kids who we call “at risk”.
“So, damaged then. I know what ‘at risk’ means.” Mickey said using air quotes.
“Pretty much. We had volunteers from the main LGBT center, a few lawyers, some doctors, a couple students. The problem was the kids could sense judgement a mile away. Then Larry called about Cole, so we thought we’d give it a shot. Then he called with you, and here we are.”
“Wait, Cole was the first one?! Oh shit, man!” Mickey said with a smirk.
“Let’s just say he was a little more drama than we anticipated.” Said Trevor, hitting Mickey on the shoulder. “It’s cool. Let me introduce you around.”
————————————————
I Like ‘em Sweet. But then, so do you, huh?
Ian sat in the reconditioned, stolen ambulance for a minute before going on to the last pickup. He had that, then the casino, then the bank drop. Ian was glad Mickey knew a guy who worked the cage at Rivers, so he didn’t have to do the song and dance of playing and drinking.
He sat on the bench in the back, barely resisting the urge to lie down and succumb to the darkness. Linda’s words rang in his head. “Destroyed my life!” She had said.
Lip’s nickname for Ian was “homewrecker” during the whole Ned fiasco. He hadn’t called him that much, and certainly not lately, but Ian couldn’t help but think it was at least a little true.
By Ian’s estimation, he wrecked three marriages. Kash’s to Linda, Ned’s to Candace, and Mickey’s to Svetlana. He felt guilty about the first two, and certainly not the last. He loved Mickey way before Svet got her claws into him.
He really felt bad for Linda. At first, his teenaged perspective didn’t register what he was doing. He was horney, Kash was willing, and they had fun. Then Kash got more and more involved in Ian’s life, buying him gifts, telling him he was special, and he liked the attention.
By the time Linda found out, and he and Mickey started having sex, Ian was pretty much over Kash. The reality of what they were doing had started to set in; what they were doing to Linda, what they were doing to their kids. Kash didn’t realize it, but it wasn’t Mickey that made Ian back off.
Ian had gone over all of this with his therapist. He started going about a year before at the insistence of his Psychiatrist. Mickey wasn’t a fan.
“Talk over shit?! You don’t need that, you got me.” Mickey had told him when he saw the bill on their account.
“Mickey, I need to be able to talk through shit with someone not involved. Someone who can help me think through all the shit in my head. I need you to be supportive about this.”
Mickey said, “Okay, lover.” and left it at that.
Ian was on I-294 before he realized he had been on autopilot for the last hour. He’d made the pickup and headed north, all while thinking about everything Linda went through because of Kash’s relationship with Ian.
“Relationship” was not what Ian’s therapist called it. “Statuatory rape” was what she called it. “Being taken advantage of” was also what she called it. Ian could readily admit it wasn’t love. Nothing like what he and Mickey had, even back then.
If Kash really was taking advantage, then why did Linda accuse him of ruining her life? Wasn’t it Kash who did that? Wasn’t it he who ran off with that bushy eyebrowed dude from the mosque?
One thing was certain, Linda did look a mess. No hijab, drinking on a Thursday afternoon at the Alibi of all places; not exactly living her best Muslim life. But none of that was Ian’s fault. The responsibility lay solely with Kash, and Linda herself.
Seeing Linda really surprised Ian. Linda came off as so tough. She was south side, through and through. Ian looked up to Linda, even when he was fucking her husband. She didn’t take shit from anybody. Including Ian, and especially Kash.
Ian pulled into Rivers parking lot just as Jose’s shift was starting. “Perfect timing.” Ian thought out loud.
If Linda called him or Mickey, fine. She had both their numbers if she needed anything. A part of him hoped she would, because he knew Mick and he would do anything for their south side family, and Linda was family.
————————————————
The Dirtiest White Boy in America.
He could hear the video games through the door of his office. The same with Mickey and the kids curses and laughter. Trevor didn’t want to admit it, but Mickey was working out well.
He expected Mickey to show up and do what he had to do. He expected Mickey to be able to get through to the kids in a way he couldn’t. What Trevor didn’t expect was to like Mickey so much.
Trevor had built up this image of Mickey as a crazy escaped convict who took Ian away from him. It was a two dimensional image of a street-tough guy with no real depth.
The things Ian’s family said about Mickey didn’t help to dispel the myths. Fiona and V spilled a lot of information one drunken night at the Alibi when Ian was working. They had just found out Mickey had escaped from prison the night before.
Neither of them had a nice word to say about him. It was V who told him about Mickey’s wife, and that he had pimped her out at the “rub and tug” above the Alibi.
It wasn’t just his vulnerability that surprised him, it was his empathy. Trevor could tell his apology to Cole was genuine. That and the way he just spilled his guts about Byron, expressing real regret. Certainly didn’t jive with the cruel image V and Fiona had painted.
One more thing was clear that Trevor hadn’t even considered: Mickey’s intense love for Ian. It literally had never occurred to him. Why it hadn’t was a mystery to him.
Trevor knew that Mickey had snitched on the cartel to be with Ian. Geneva had told him about that. He knew Mickey came out to his family, in spectacular fashion, to keep Ian. Ian had told him that story. So why was he so surprised that Mickey held a “hostage” in the form of Byron Koch to make Ian jealous in order to get him back?
There was a firm knock at the office door. Trevor hadn’t noticed the noise level falling, out in the main area of the center.
“Yes?” Trevor said as he wiped away a tear that had mysteriously formed a moment before.
Mickey opened the door and poked his head in. “Sorry to bother you. You got a minute?”
“Sure Mickey, come on in. What’s up?” Said Trevor.
Mickey stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat in the chair opposite Trevors desk, and looked at Trevor for a minute, not breaking eye contact.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Mickey finally said.
“I don’t know. I’m trans, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Said Trevor, hoping to God that was it.
“No, not that, asswipe. I knew that the second I saw you. My sister’s trans, I have transdar or some shit. I’m talking about Ian. Something about Ian you’re not telling me?” Mickey said, not breaking eye contact.
“Trans brother, you have a brother who happens to have a vagina. And if it’s something about Ian, shouldn’t he tell you?” Said Trevor, a little frightened how Mickey would react.
“No, I have a sister who happens to have a cock. Anyway, ya, he should, but I’m asking you. Spill it.” Said Mickey, with a look that made Trevor nervous, and a little scared.
“I promised Larry who promised Ian, so he’ll have to tell you.” Trevor said, feeling like he should look for an escape route.
“How about I guess? Then you wouldn’t be breaking your little pinky promise there, cupcake.” Mickey said, a little smirk on his face. A gleam in his eye told Trevor he had nothing to fear in this conversation.
“Cupcake?! Fuck you, cream pie!” Trevor said, no longer afraid for his life.
Mickey laughed “You were the boyfriend Ian mentioned when I was on the lam, weren’t you? I heard him leave you a message, or someone a message. He thought I was still asleep. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“What makes you think it was me?” Trevor asked. He wasn’t about to give in easily. Plus, he liked the verbal sparring with Mickey.
“For starters, you knew he liked grand gestures. Romantically that is. That comment about Gay Jesus was bullshit, trying to cover your tracks.” Mickey said, then added, “That and all the secrecy about what I’d be doing today. Ian only hides things from me when he thinks I’ll get jealous, or won’t get along with someone he wants me to like. Plus he’s a big Justin Bieber fan, so, adds up.”
“You think Ian wants you to like me, Matt Dillon?” Trevor said, genuinely surprised.
“Ya! Ian likes you, so he wants me to too. To too? Fucking like you as well.” Mickey said, waving his hand in a gesture to say “whatever”.
“Are you saying you like me?” Asked Trevor.
“I’m saying I know about you and Ian, and it’s cool. I know you didn’t hurt him or treat him like shit or he woulda told me. We don’t have to be buddies or anything.”
“Ah. Okay. Well, now you know. I didn’t tell you. So, are we good?”
“Ya we’re square.” Mickey stood up. “I’d like to stay on here, finish out my community service hours if that’s alright.”
“You bet, Mickey. The kids seem to like you.”
“Good” Mickey said opening the door, adding, “Matt Dillon, huh? Bad Country Matt Dillon or Outsiders?”
“Rumblefish.” Trevor said.
“Right. I heard that before.” Mickey said, then left the office to a room of screaming teenagers.
Trevor’s smile gave way to concern when he heard, “Who wants to learn how to roll a flabby dentist dude?!”
“Just kidding Trevor!” Mickey yelled toward the office through shouts of laughter and “me! Me Mickey!”
————————————————
Just Because We’re from Here, Doesn’t Mean we Have to Stay Here.
The bank drop finished, Ian sat a bit in the back of the truck. He couldn’t get his run-in with Linda out of his head. He was curious how she went from devout Muslim to bar fly. She had changed so drastically.
More than curiosity was the intense guilt he had seeing her like that. He was the only person he knew who knew Linda well. Linda was the hard-ass mother he needed growing up. She wasn’t vulnerable like Monica and had her shit together, unlike Fiona.
He thought about the day Kash took off. She was so hurt, so confused and she reached out to Ian for support at that moment. He held her hand for a bit, not saying anything, just being there, witness to her suffering.
After that he found ways of helping her when he could. He played with her kids, babysat, fixed things around the shop and her apartment. He was there for the birth of her third child, waited outside with the men from the mosque, making small talk.
The only person he could talk to about this was Mickey. Mickey was the only person in his life who knew Linda.
Mickey never had a kind word to say about Linda. He never had a kind word to say about anyone, really, even him, even today. Ian knew, though, that Linda was family to Mickey.
The only person, besides Mickey, Ian talked to about Linda back in the day was Mandy. Maybe this was an opportunity to break the ice. After all, he and Mandy’s friendship was based on support. Always there for each other in hard times, and times were always hard, for both of them.
Ian picked up his phone, still nothing from Mickey. He pictured him playing Mortal Kombat with some teenagers, oblivious to the time and anything else going on.
“Fuck it.” He thought, “Why not just call.”
Ian found the missed call from Mandy and hit the call button. Mandy answered on the first ring.
“Hey sexy!” Mandy said cheerfully.
“You must be at work to answer like that.” Ian said, a laugh in his voice.
“No, silly. You’re my sexy high school boyfriend, who I never got to fuck. Now you’re my brother in law. I’m glad you called. Wanna meet up? My roommate is watching the kids.”
“Roommate?” Ian asked. “I just assumed you were married or something.”
“No, I’m not married. I have a kid and my roommate has two. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Let’s meet up for coffee. There’s a coffee shop right by my place. Say half an hour? I’ll text you the address.” Mandy said.
“Sure. See you in a bit. Mandy? I… I’m glad I called too.” Said Ian, and hung up.
He got the text from Mandy right away.
“Starbucks? Really? Mandy’s gone bougie on me.” He thought as he got in the driver's seat.
————————————————
Fuck You, is What You Were Invited To.
Kyler was kicking Mickey’s ass on Mortal Kombat, while Mickey talked with him about shit. Mickey liked the kid. In fact, he liked all the kids at the center. He expected a bunch of glee club type boys and athletic softball playing girls. But they were all pretty normal, south side normal, anyway.
Some of the trans kids didn’t “present” as well as Trevor or his kid sister Molly, but that didn’t phase Mickey. He used to buy loose cigarettes off a woman on the street who was obviously trans.
Being from the south side, you just took people as they were. Only Terry, Mickey’s Dad, seemed to give a shit what or who anyone was.
“So, I heard Gay Jesus is your husband.” Kyler said as he continued to pummel Mickey.
“Yup. Aw shit dude!! Really??” Mickey said as he lost the game.
“Hate the game, not the playah, beotch! He’s so fucking hot, your husband.” Said Kyler
“Ya, he’s a hottie.” Said Mickey, feeling his face heat up with a blush.
“I had a Gay Jesus poster on the back of my door I used to beat off to, ‘till my Dad found it and ripped it down.” Said Kyler, looking closely at Mickey as if to gauge his reaction.
“I had a picture of Ian giving the middle finger from when we were about your age. I used to beat off to that one, ‘till my wife found it in a magazine in the bathroom.” Said Mickey.
Trevor had said to just be honest with the kids. To share any life experiences that were like their own, without too many details. Not to one-up them with war stories, but to let them know you can relate, that you have things in common.
Mickey had accepted that Ian was hot long before. He had accepted that others found him hot when Ian worked at the Fairy Tail. He didn’t like it, but he accepted it. As sure as the sun rose in the morning, Ian’s hot. It was just a fact.
“I’m 17, so, you were married to a woman when you were 17?” Said Kyler, after seeming to mull it over.
“It’s a long story, starts with me being pistol whipped and raped, ends with me kicking her out for Ian and her in thrupple. Not with me and Ian, with her and some friends of ours.” Mickey said with a smirk.
“Dude.” Said Kyler, a little stunned. “You could write a book!”
“Nah, I’d never read it. I’d binge watch the fuck out of it on Netflix, though.” Said Mickey, getting up off the couch. “Well, kid, I’m gonna do the rounds and get home. Nice meeting you, and I’ll see you around next time.”
Once he had done the small lap around the room to say his goodbyes to each kid, Mickey went to Trevor's office door and knocked.
“I’m heading out, little boss. Is there a paper you gotta sign or something?” Mickey said.
“Ya, I have it here. I’ll just keep it since this is where you’ll be for awhile. If Larry wants it, I’ll just scan it to him.” Said Trevor, writing something down and putting the paper in a drawer. “See ya next Thursday? 10am?”
“You got it, boss.” Said Mickey.
He felt like he had to ask. Mickey had zero friends, pretty much his whole life. It felt foreign to him that he’d want one now; especially his husband’s ex. It was just something about this guy.
He could tell he had a chip on his shoulder the size of Mickey’s. That he wasn’t the kind of person to let a slight hit him without a fight. He actually reminded him of a better brought up version of himself.
“Hey, you finishing up here anytime soon?” Asked Mickey.
“Ya, Geneva will be here in a minute to take over. I think you met her at your wedding.” Said Trevor.
“Oh ya. Her Koombiah act for my Dad saved a lot of lives that day. So, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink.” Said Mickey, completely surprised as the words came out of his mouth.
Mickey could see the shock on Trevor’s face. He just looked at him blinking, making Mickey regret asking.
“Uh… um…” Trevor stammered. He seemed to not know what to say.
“It’s cool if you can’t. Conflict of interest or whatever.” Mickey said, giving Trevor an easy out. Mickey half hoped he’d say that he couldn’t. Shit was getting awkward.
“No, nothing like that. You know what? Sure. That'd be cool.” Said Trevor.
“Cool. I’ll be outside smoking when you’re ready.” Said Mickey.
————————————————
Meet ya at the Spot.
4:48 Ian: Having coffee with an old friend (Girl) be home in a couple hours. Love you 😘
5:01 Mickey: Having beer with my boss (Used to be girl) ditto and ditto.
5:01 Ian: Trevor?!!! Really?!!
5:04 Mickey: yup
5:10 Ian: 👍
————————————————
Not Everybody Just gets to Blurt Out how They Fucking Feel Every Minute.
Mandy’s coffee order was a page long. Some kind of “chino” with whipped cream and glitter or something. When they put it on the counter, Ian thought it looked like her; strong, bitter coffee dressed in sweet creams, caramel and sprinkles.
Ian ordered a dark roast. “With room, please.” Mandy said to the barista. “Room for cream. I remember how you take it.”
“I like my coffee like I like my women. Strong and valued in the workplace.” Ian joked. His friends at the EMT garage used that one a lot.
They settled on a hard table for two in the back. Ian didn’t know what to say, or how to behave. It reminded him of his first date with Caleb. He felt completely out of his element. Then it occurred to him what to ask.
“How did you know Mickey and I got married?” Ian launched right in, picking up where they left off that morning.
“He didn’t tell you? Fucking pussy.” Said Mandy, confirming to Ian that she was still a south side girl.
“I ran into him at Costco about the time you guys moved here to the west side. He didn’t tell you about our fight? I’m not surprised, actually. After about five minutes I told him to fuck off and left.” She said.
“He didn’t say a word about that. I had no idea, Mandy, or I would have made him contact you to make up.” Said Ian, adding, “You’re family.”
“Ya, well, we didn’t actually exchange numbers or anything. I’m surprised we didn’t exchange punches. He did tell me about your wedding, though, and that Terry burned down the hall, that he tried to kill you.”
“Did he tell you he’s dead?”
“Terry? Ya, he told me that too.” Said Mandy.
“Sorry.” Said Ian, “About Terry, I mean.”
“I’m not. He was a piece of shit. Sorry about Frank.”
“Ditto on that.” Chuckled Ian.
“So what’d you fight about?” Ian asked, genuinely concerned that Mickey would continue to have no family outside of the Gallaghers.
“Well, that’s the thing I need to tell you. It’s why I’m here. You might not want to see me after this.” Mandy played with her drink using her straw.
“Oh. What could be so bad I wouldn’t want to see you? Mandy, you’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend. That hasn’t changed.” Ian said, and meant it.
“So, I kind of lied on the phone earlier. I am technically married. Legally married. To my roommate.”
“You mean for benefits or something?”
“Green card, actually. You were close. But that’s not the part that you’re not going to like. It’s who I’m married to.” Mandy said, staring at Ian, as if waiting for him to piece the rest together.
Ian just sat there looking at Mandy, trying to figure out what she was getting at. “So, who is it?”
“I need you to know I love you, Ian. I love Mickey too. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt either of you. You have to believe me.”
“You’re scaring me, Mandy. What are you talking about?” Ian said. He didn’t have the bandwidth to figure it out from clues. He needed to hear it straight.
“Okay, so, the agency I worked for hired a lot of Russian women. That’s how I met her, or, met her again.” Mandy said, stopping there to give It a minute to sink in.
It hit him in a flash. “Svet?!”
“How many Russian prostitutes do we both know? Of course Svetlana.” Said Mandy with a nervous chuckle.
“Wait, so one of her kids is Yevgeny. Mickey’s son?”
“Exactly. Ian, I’m so sorry. But we get along so well. We take care of each other, watch each other’s kids…” Mandy began to trail off, mumbling.
“Mandy, you know how she uses people up, right? She’ll take everything you own and leave you with nothing. You gotta get out of there!” Said Ian, feeling a rush of adrenaline. This could go to either pole today.
“She supports me financially, Ian. She got a huge settlement from the old man she married. The prenup was for seven million! It just said she couldn’t use that marriage to apply for citizenship. So I married her, no prenup. It’s a win/win. It really is!”
“If that’s true, why is Mickey so pissed off that he wouldn’t even tell me he saw you?” Ian asked.
“Do I have to spell everything out to you? Mickey was raped, Ian. Raped!” She said loudly, turning the heads of everyone in the room.
“It wasn’t like that. He loves Yevgeny. He had a truce with Svet. It wasn’t her fault!”
“Ian” Mandy said, taking Ian’s hands into hers to hold his attention. “Every time he sees Svetlana, he’s reminded of what my Dad did to him. He can’t see her, or Yevgeny. Ever again.”
“But he’s a father! Yevgeny needs him! I don’t… I don’t want… I want Mickey to be the father he never had, that I never had!”
Mandy sat looking at her and Ian’s hands. Ian could see that she was forming what she wanted to say.
Ian had always dreamed of being a Dad, and he wanted to do that with Mickey. They would do all of the wonderful things Frank and Monica never would, or could do; and none of the awful things Terry did. They would grow up loved, and safe, and taught right from wrong. Yevgeny was their chance to turn a terrible situation into something beautiful.
“Look, remember when you and your family raised the money for my abortion?” Said Mandy, finally finding a way to explain.
“Ya, of course! Terry raped you. You had to abort it.”
“Exactly. Would you have forced me to raise the baby?”
“Of course not! It was incest! Ew, Mandy! Why would you say that?” Ian said, completely confused.
“Right. It would have been cruel to force me to raise a child born of rape, reminding me for the rest of my life of it; making me relive it over and over every day.” Mandy said, relieved that she had made her point.
Ian sat staring into nothing. He couldn’t process everything she was saying. He had more questions though.
“Why did you storm out? Why were you mad at Mickey?” Ian asked, not sure if he could absorb any more, but wanting to get it over with.
“Because I didn’t understand. Ian, it was Svetlana. She made me understand. She’s the one who told me about Terry, what he did when he… when he walked in on you and Mickey, what he made her do, and you…” Mandy said, her voice cracking. “You had to watch.” Mandy regained her voice for a second, then went silent, tears lining her cheeks.
They sat in silence for a minute, Mandy sniffling from the tears. She opened her purse and pulled out a Kleenex and began to clean up.
Once she had regained her composure, she grabbed his hands again. “Ian, my love, my best friend and brother-in-law; I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to hurt my only decent brother. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if you tell Mickey you saw me, if you haven’t already. But please don’t confront him, or try to get him to see Yevgeny. It won’t be good for him, or you. It really won’t.”
“I love you too, Mandy. Thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess process all this, if I don’t crash out for a month. It’s been a crazy day. You, Linda, working alone for the first time…”
“Linda?! From the store?!” Mandy asked.
“Ya. We can have that discussion next time we meet. We will meet again, right?”
“I’d love that.” Mandy said, getting up from her seat. “Text me”. Then she planted a kiss on his forehead and left.
————————————————
A Bunch of Gay Friends who Know I Don’t Like Getting my Ass Licked.
“I told him we needed a safe word, so he said, ‘ow, mother fucker?’” Trevor said, both of them laughing.
They were on their third round, and Trevor was just starting to get buzzed. Growing up in Jersey, you had to have a high tolerance for alcohol. He could tell South Side Chicago was the same because Mickey seemed at about the same point.
“I’m definitely gonna use that one sometime, see if he remembers.” Mickey said, catching his breath. “I love that D though. He’s very talented with it.”
“Ya. Hit my G-spot, through my ass! That hasn’t happened since.” Trevor said, instantly regretting it.
Why on earth was he so comfortable talking about this with Mickey? It’s one thing to share Ian stories. Trevor’s body, however, was not something he freely talked about with people he just met. He had only talked about his body dysmorphia, or, in the case of his vagina, lack of dysmorphia; with people he had sex with.
Mickey was so open about these things, about himself. He told Trevor what he yelled at his Dad while they were being handcuffed on the night he came out. That Ian “gives it to him good and hard and he likes it.” Maybe that was what disarmed him.
Trevor had been loosening up over the past few years. He wasn’t nearly as sensitive about being trans as he was with Ian. He didn’t take everything as a slight the way he did before.
With Mickey, he didn’t feel the need to explain everything. Mickey was completely ignorant about a lot of things, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was refreshing to Trevor how Mickey just accepted what was, without asking a lot of uncomfortable questions.
“Did Ian try to give you a rimjob?” Mickey asked, breaking the brief uncomfortable silence.
“Oh my god, yes! What’s the deal with that?!” Trevor said. “I, mean, I like to fuck ass, but I’m not sticking my tongue up there.”
“Exactly, and I’m sure as fuck not kissing him right after he does it to me!” Mickey said, his face scrunched in disgust.
“He gets pretty adventurous in the sack.” Said Mickey. “He wants me to put on an orange prison onesie, for some fucking reason. We did enough of that when we were actually in prison! When I got out the first time, or, well escaped, he told me he bottomed, that we could switch it up. I told him if I wanted to fuck a guy in the ass, I’d have stayed in prison.”
“That was when you guys ran off to Mexico?” Trevor said, staring at his beer bottle.
“Aw man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. Sore subject.”
“His ass was sore. From me fucking him, that is” Said Trevor with a smirk.
“I’ve had the pleasure of making that happen a few times myself. He pretends I’m a Jonas brother. But this experimentation shit, It’s hard to tell if it’s Ian being Ian, or if it’s like, mania or some shit. You think since we’re married, it’s okay, though? It’s not, like, taking advantage or anything?”
Trevor thought for a minute. Was Mickey asking him for advice with Ian? Was this a line Trevor was willing to cross, given his still feelings for Ian?
“Honestly, it never occurred to me. To me, all sex is good sex, as long as it’s consensual.” Said Trevor.
“But is it really con… consent when one person isn’t healthy? Mentally, I mean. How can you consent to something if you’re not thinking straight?”
“That’s a really good question. I don’t know.” Trevor said.
The past four years, Trevor had thought he was better for Ian than Mickey. That he could love him better, treat him better, understand him better. Now in one afternoon, Mickey took all that away from him. He was beginning to feel less conflicted, and even less infatuated with Ian. Like he just wanted Ian to be happy, with the best person for him.
“The Fairy Tail definitely does. Take advantage, I mean. Those boys are so tweaked out, it’s insane. You get any of them at the center?” Mickey asked.
“Some. Actually, most of the kids there have had to do sex work to get by, in one way or another.” Said Trevor. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking about taking advantage of Ian, that led me to ask about the kids.”
“Ah. Well, we try not to judge them, and if we avoid talking about it, they’ll feel judged, so we’re pretty open about it.” Said Trevor.
“Ya. I get that. And treating them like victims wouldn’t help. They’d shut right down. Ian wasn’t hungry or homeless, though. He had a family that accepted him, as fucked up as they were. He was “hyper sexual” because of his bipolar.”, Mickey said using air quotes. “‘What seventeen year old gay kid isn’t horney.?’ was what I thought. The drugs they gave him, though, the ex and meth and special k, that shit made it ten times worse. It was hard seeing him like that.”
“He didn’t say much about that time in his life. He talked about it like it was any other job. Even ran into a former client of his; a donor to the center. He didn’t seem like it was traumatic.” Trevor said.
“Well, the crash after was terrible, man. He was in bed at my place for like a week, once. Couldn’t get him up. Still happens from time to time. Something stressful happens, or he’s hyper for a few days, he crashes out. He’s usually out of bed after a couple days but his mood is pretty dark for awhile after.” Mickey said, getting choked up.
“Wow, Mickey. I had no idea!” Trevor said, and he really didn’t.
Trevor only saw the mania side of Ian’s illness, and hadn’t really thought about the other pole in the term bipolar. He pictured Mickey loving Ian back into the world, and he was touched. For the first time in years Trevor genuinely felt like he could let go of Ian. He was in good hands. Better than good hands. Thanks to Mickey fucking Milkovich
“I got a riddle.” Mickey said. “What’s orange and nine and three quarters.”
Trevor raised his beer bottle. “To Fire Crotch?”
“To Fire Crotch.” Said Mickey as they clanged their bottles together.
————————————————
Sorry I’m Late.
Mickey unlocked the door to the apartment hoping Ian had picked up some dinner after work. If not, it was ok. Some hot water and ramen and he was good to go.
He walked in to find Ian on the sofa, watching Dawson’s Creek. Ian called it his “comfort show”. Mickey could sense the crash coming, if it wasn’t already in full swing.
“Caleb said he’s sorry.” Said Ian, his voice flat. “He texted from a new number, then blocked me.”
“Fuck that bisexual motherfucker. What else happened today?” Mickey asked. “You okay?”
“Not much. Ran into Linda at the Alibi.”
“No shit! What the fuck was she doing there?”
“Drinking. Said I ruined her life.”
“Fuck that. Kash ruined her life. Fucking pedophile, taking it up the ass from a teenaged boy. That’s on him, not on you! You hear me?” Mickey gently placed his hand under Ian’s chin and raised his head to force eye contact. “Ian, you hear?”
Ian met Mickey’s gaze and nodded once.
“Speaking of teenage boys, how was your day?” Said Ian flatly, with no inflection, though Mickey appreciated the effort.
“Uneventful. Made a new friend, got my ass kicked in Mortal Kombat, hung out with a bunch of street hustlers. My kind of people. You know, the usual day for me.” Mickey said, sitting sideways on the sofa to face Ian directly.
“I knew you’d like it. What’d you and Trevor talk about?” Asked Ian, only half interested now, knowing he would be very interested in a few days.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mickey said as he placed his hand tenderly on Ian’s cheek.
“I would. I would like to know.” Said Ian sleepily.
Mickey grinned, “Ass licking and the fact that neither of us like it.”
Mickey held Ian’s face in his hand, looking into those green eyes. The eyes of the man he loved with one hundred percent of his heart.
Mickey knew that Ian knew this, and that there was nothing between them, nothing separating them. He also knew the crash was here. That Ian would be asleep from the increase in dosage he had most certainly taken. That Ian would wake up in bed the next afternoon, with a glass of water, a packet of Poptarts within reach, and a note in Mickey’s chicken scratch professing his undying love. He felt that all was right in the world. That nothing was too much trouble, and there was plenty of time.
He pulled Ian close to him, grabbed the plush blanket from the back of the sofa, and wrapped them both in it.
“Sorry I’m late.” Mickey said after a minute.
“You’re right on time.” Ian thought, but couldn’t say, as his eyes grew heavier.