#dxstinedtofail

[ianxgallxgher]

Ian hated the final run up to summer. School seemed to drag on far more than it ever did any other time of the year and it all felt so fucking pointless right about now. With Lip constantly trying to make the dumbest decisions for himself by giving college a miss, Fiona getting it more shit with a new guy every season change it felt, Ian wished summer could just start so she could work, earn herself some money and just hang out with Mandy like they usually did. 

Every year she told herself that she’d find something better than the fucking Kash ‘n Grab and every year she didn’t bother. But once again she told herself this summer would be different. She was still trying to do better in school, as if that might help things but she didn’t have Lip’s smarts, just a good work ethic wasted. 

She gave a long sigh, sat on the bleachers overlooking the school track field. She fucking hated this high school and the people in it. When she felt someone sit down beside her on the bench, Ian almost thought it was Mandy but one glance told her it wasn’t. “I didn’t think you even went to this school anymore. Figured you’d dropped out last semester.” Ian mused, pulling out her earbuds and closing the trig homework she’d been failing to grasp.

@dxstinedtofail

[milkovichsmickey-a]

@dxstinedtofail

When Mickey had crossed the border, he had been at a lost of what to do. He kicked Damon to the curb; even though he would have gotten them killed or arrested, he still would have been able to help with the language. And Ian had bailed on him too. He hadn’t expected the redhead to come with him in the first place, but he got in the car and it was like all the fantasies he had fantasized about him and Ian and Mexico were going to come true after all.

Then everything went crashing down.

He’d stopped at a bar after driving for hours, his disguise long since discarded. He felt stupid and he needed a drink. As luck would have it (because it seemed like Mickey didn’t have any these days or ever), he found one that took American money. When the man behind the counter took in Mickey’s disheartened expression, he asked Mickey what was wrong. It took some coaxing, but Mickey gave in (leaving out a huge chunk of the story of course) telling him that his boyfriend left him and he wanted to drink him away.

He ended up leaving the bar later that day with a job.

He had to spend a couple of nights in the stolen green car until he found somewhere to live, putting a couple of months deposit with the money Ian had given him. He didn’t want to use the money and thought about just sending it back to the redhead, but it would help him out until he got on his feet and the redhead did owe him that much. So he used it. Not all of it, but some stashing the rest with the intention of sending it back to the redhead someday.

It had been two years since Mickey crossed the border and overall his time in Mazatlán hadn’t been that bad. Things had been different, but they could have been worse. Much worse. Besides, Mazatlán was a pretty fucking nice resort with beautiful beaches that far exceeded Mickey’s expectations. 

He was currently working at Dugout, the Sports bar in which he had first stopped at two years ago. It was the middle of his shift and it had been like any other day at the bar, nothing too eventful. In between serving drinks, he chatted with the locals who he had unexpectedly gotten along with. All in all, it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t perfect, but it was manageable. 

[thevaginas-a-nonfactor]

{{ Closed Starter with @dxstinedtofail }}

Trevor stared at his phone for a few more moments. An unsent text sat, waiting so patiently in the text edit box. It wasn’t anything earth shattering- At least not outwardly. Trevor took a deep breath in to recenter his intentions. He pressed send before he could chicken out and all but threw his phone down. His nerves were slowly building up into a bundled mess. 

Text: Hey, Ian come hang tonight. I’ve got a few bowls just for you. ;)

Trevor got up and went to find his weed and rolling paper. He was going to need it. His stomach felt like a swarm of butterflies had gotten trapped and wouldn’t stop swirling around. He put on some B-List movie and sat back down on the couch with his things. He quickly rolled a blunt and started taking drags as if he was just chain-smoking a cigarette. He could probably go for one of those as well. Or a pack. The boy took a deep breath and rubbed his face hard with the heel of his palm. Was he really about to do this? He felt more and more sick from those pesky nerves. 

He unlocked the front door, incase Ian was near and didn’t bother responding and then disappeared into his bathroom. He finished his blunt and splashed cold water on his face. “Fuck..” Get your shit together, man. It’s not like you’re asking Red to marry you. No, but he might as well be. Maybe it would be easier. The two would start laughing and play fighting, most likely, the night would end in some good sex, and they’d pretend that Trev had never asked and all would be well. But what Trevor really wanted to ask of Ian tonight.. That’s hard to recover from. So very hard. Trevor hadn’t asked anyone this yet. Not since he transitioned. He stuck his head under the faucet and got a drink of water. 

He came back out into the living room, drying his shirt with his face and grabbed another rolled blunt and started smoking that away.