Ian and Mickey cannot sleep without each other. If they aren’t spooning, one of them at least has a hand on the other. I think even when they fight, like in early season eleven, they can’t not sleep close to each other. I also like how they’re always together, even when they’re not on the best terms. Like yeah if they need space theyll take it, but they’re mostly together. 11x2, Ian’s mad at Mickey, but they’re still chilling in their room together. Ian’s just working out, probably to relieve the sexual frustration (we all know that they’re 1000% hornier when they’re mad) and Mickeys just happily tossing money at him to piss him off. Ian’s visibly irritated but he’s not leaving. So now weve got a little ficlet of the aftermath of that scene. I really have no idea where this went IN MY DEFENCE YOU DONT CONTROL THE CHARACTERS THEY JUST DO SHIT AND YOU REPORT.
Ian lay flat on the floor, Mickey’s money surrounding him. He was annoyed enough that he was tempted to break his resolve, pull Mickey down to him, and fuck him raw until Mickey couldn’t remember his own name. However, Ian wasnt gonna back down on this. He wasn’t fucking Mickey till Mickey got a legal job. Yeah he had money, but what good would it be if he ended up in prison again? So he lay on the hard wooden floor of their bedroom stubbornly, breathing through his nose while Mickey started scrolling on his phone.
“You gonna pick it up?” Ian asked, gesturing at the money.
Mickey smirked. “Think of it as a gift,” he said. “A-a tip for your service.”
Ian sat up. “You callin’ me a stripper?”
“Hell no, man. I’m callin’ you my stripper.”
Ian rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be bothered with Mickey’s nonsense today. And by that, he meant, rationally, he couldn’t be bothered. He was still tempted to pin him down and fuck him raw.
“I’m still not fucking you, Mickey.”
Mickey shrugged nonchalantly. “I was talking about when you used to dance at the club. My stripper. Couldnt stand those sleazing old fucks throwing money atcha. Not when you were comin home with me.”
Ian softened. Really softened. “Mickey…”
Mickey rolled his eyes and threw another Hamilton at him. “Don’t get soft on me, Gallagher.”
His expression shifted as he played with the money in his hands. “I don’t get it, man.”
“Nah, the money thing,” Mickey said. “I got a job. Pays good. More’n good, I paid Debs my share of the bills, and got Franny a kickass birthday present. You got her a box of stale Froot Loops. Think I’m gonna slave away for nothing? That who you think I am, Gallagher?”
Ian got up and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “No,” he said. “That who you think I am? You think I wanna be here, Mick? Think I want my niece to get a box of fuckin Froot Loops for her fifth birthday? Fuck, even Fiona managed to get us better presents than that when we were kids.”
“Cause she stole ‘em,” Mickey shrugged. “That’s just how it is on the South Side. Pandemic hit us worse than those fucking Northside pricks. So what if I gotta scam a little so I can chip in? Wasnt the smile on Franny’s face worth it?”
“She won’t be smilin if you end up back in prison, Mick! I meant what I said about being a prison widow!”
Mickey rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna fuckin get caught, man!”
“Really? You’ve been to juvie more times tjan I can count and prison twice-“
“And all of them were for you. The first time cause that turbaned perv-“
“He didn’t have a turban-“
“Shot me for fucking you, then I punched an officer cause you begged me not to kill Frank, then there was that bitch who tried to ruin you, then I rolled on the cartel cause your ass got thrown in jail! I’ve only ever gotten caught for you!”
Ian stopped. Thought. Then he sighed, his voice gentler, and reached for Mickey’s hand. “I don’t want you to end up back there again, Mick. Fuck would I do without you?”
“And I told you, Ian, I’m not gonna get thrown in jail. And I tried, I turned up to that shitty interview with that bitch of a boss. I’m not cut out for this shit,” he shrugged.
Ian nodded slowly. Mickey had tried. And he had made Franny smile. Ian was too tired to fight with him tonight. So he crawled onto the bed properly and lay down. “C’mere,” he murmured, tugging at Mickey’s arm. Mickey slid under the covers next to him and Ian wrapped his arms around him, pulling Mickey onto his chest. “You were really good with Franny,” he said softly. “Debbie wasnt happy though. Think she thinks you undermined her.”
Mickey shrugged. “I’m not her parent. Debs can do whatever she wants with her kid. Point of being the favourite uncle is to spoil her rotten.”
Ian grazed his nose against Mickey’s and chuckled, fingers stroking down Mickey’s back. He leaned down and kissed Mickey gently on the mouth, cupping his jaw, his wedding ring cool and comforting on Mickey’s face.
“Debs is lucky it was a fake gun. When I was her age, it was a real one,” Mickey murmured when they eventually drew back.
Ian’s fingers stilled on Mickey’s back and his hand tightened on Mickey’s jaw. “Serious?” he said softly.
“Oh yeah. I learnt to shoot when I was five. Milkovich rite of passage or somethin’. Learnt how to dodge a bullet before that, though. My dad had a game. He’d shoot into the air around us, an’ we’d have to run. I was always the best at it, even when I was a kid. Mandy didnt get to learn to dodge till she was six. Didnt get her gun till she was eight. Terry said there were other ways for a girl to get what she wanted.”
Ian felt sick at that, remembering that day Mandy had pointed a gun to her father’s head. Let him go, Dad, this is between us!
Mickey shook his head, waving away the dark lore he’d just casually dropped and kissed Ian again, before lying down on the mattress. “Anyway. If you’re not gonna fuck me you might as well spoon me,” he said, rolling onto his side and pulling Ian’s arms around him. “M’ fuckin tired man.”
Ian held Mickey and kissed his shoulder. He knew he and Mickey would be back to snipping at each other in the morning. But tonight, like every night, he held onto Mickey, breathing his scent deeply, placing periodic kisses to his neck and shoulders, until he dozed off.
Fuck. Mickey drove him fucking wild. He pissed him off like no one else could. But Ian couldnt see it any other way. Fuck, he loved him.
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