#iyhap

[southsidestory]

Chapter 1: Grounds for Harassment

Mickey knows he’s a piece of shit. It’s easy to forget sometimes, like how piss in the carpet stops stinking after it’s settled, but every now and then he’ll think something so awful that he remembers, Oh, yeah. Piece of shit.

That happens when Mandy says Ian Gallagher messed with her (and not in the good way). Because Mickey’s first thought is that Mandy is lying, and his second is thank fuck.

Getting to hunt down Ian is the best thing that’s happened to Mickey in months.

“What he do to you, exactly?”

“I’m not giving you the gross details!” Mandy shouts.

She leans against the front door, blocking the handle, as if he’s stupid enough to go inside the house.

He’s been locked out for a week. A whole fucking week of stealing food from corner stores, taking a leak behind buildings, and sleeping in icy alleys. He can’t even remember what he did to set Ronnie off this time, but his uncle must still be angry if Mandy won’t let him in on the sly.

Mickey sniffs back snot, then spits on the porch. He hopes he’s not getting a goddamn cold. “Will you at least let me in after I beat the shit out of Ian?”

Mandy tugs on a lock of her hair. “If Uncle Ronnie will let me.”

“That’s some award-winning gratitude right there.”

“You got to know that I want to let you in,” Mandy whines. “But if I do he’ll kick me out with you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a moron.” Mickey adjusts his coat and scratches his cheek, moving dirt from his skin to under his fingernails. “Guess I’ll just keep smelling like a pig sty.”

He’ll probably knock Ian back with his stench, won’t even have to hit him.

“If it makes you feel any better, the water’s turned off, so you couldn’t shower anyway,” Mandy says. “Nobody paid the bill again.”

“You look squeaky fucking clean for a girl who’s got no running water at home.”

Mandy picks at her cuticles. A tell that means shame. “I showered at a friend’s house last night.”

“Ah. That code for ‘fucked a dude in exchange for basic hygiene’?”

Mandy grabs a crumpled beer can off the porch and lobs it at him. Mickey catches it and passes it between his hands. Left, right. Left, right.

“Maybe I should hit up Angie Zhago. Trade a ride on my dick for a bath.”

And a bed. Speckled bruises cover his right side from the cracked pavement and gravel he slept on last night.

“Are you going to beat up Ian or stand here all day with your thumb up your butt?” Mandy asks.

Mickey turns away, shoots his sister the bird over his shoulder, and hurries down the steps.

He could go to the shelter for a shower and a hot meal, but he’d rather stay freezing, filthy, and hungry than deal with a bunch of homeless assholes. Half of them are plain batshit, most would steal his stuff if he doesn’t take it into the shower with him, and plenty are actual rapists (unlike Ian) who’ll think he’s an easy target because he’s young and short.

No shower, no food. Time to find his brothers, or maybe some cousins, and get down to business.

Read more of If You Have a Problem on AO3

***

AN: I swore to post the first chapter of If You Have a Problem before the end of the day, and I did it! (barely lol)

Tagging some kind folks who expressed interest on my teaser posts

@poisonedquiver @marstheterrible @5ammi90 @freitasgst @darlingian @ianandmickeygallavich1 @definenormalifyoucan @jadejabbers @ifconfusionwasaperson @machinegunbieber-blog @callivich @tsuga-of-mars

Many thanks to everyone who supported my teasers, as well as my wonderful betas @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich <3

[southsidestory]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

RATING: Explicit

SHIP: Gallavich

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Mickey grabs the front of Ian’s shirt and walks backward, pulling him through the doorway into the empty concession building. No football happening at midnight on a Tuesday in August, so this is about as safe a place as they’re going to get. It’s cramped as hell, but they’ll make it work. They always do.

[southsidestory]

Chapter 5: Going Nowhere Fast

Mickey takes Ian to the abandoned building where his aim went to shit after they banged the first time. He’s used it for shooting practice since he was twelve, but more than that, it’s a place he can escape to when home gets to be too much.

Bringing Ian here is stupid. It’s all stupid, this thing they’re doing together. They meet up all the time now, and it’s so goddamn good that Mickey can’t put a stop to it.

Ian races him up the stairs. Track-god motherfucker wins without getting winded, of course. As soon as they’re on the roof, Ian starts whooping and bragging.

“Nobody likes a sore winner.”

Ian punches his arm. “You must, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“I like your dick,” Mickey corrects. “Speaking of which…”

He grasps Ian’s jacket and draws him closer. Ian’s grin slips, mostly from need, but there’s an angry edge to it, close to saying something dumb.

When Ian opens his mouth, Mickey clamps his hand over his lips. It takes a moment to gather his own voice enough to speak.

“Just fuck me,” Mickey says, ragged. “And don’t go easy.”

Read the rest of Chapter 5 on AO3

Start from the beginning

[southsidestory]

Chapter 3: Model Behavior

“Ian? What are you doing here?”

He pushes his way into the Milkovich house and straight to Mickey’s bedroom. It looks the same as he remembers, apart from a couple new posters on the walls and more dirty clothes on the floor.

Ian digs through Mickey’s side table. Wrinkled porn mags, brass knuckles, a cracked pen that spilled red ink everywhere, a Polaroid of Mickey smashing Iggy’s face into the sidewalk. Junk on junk on junk. Ian rips out the drawers, scattering Mickey’s macho armor across the carpet in pieces.

“Ian! You can’t do this! Mickey will kill you for real this time.”

He turns to Mandy, and a shout sinks down his throat. Fear rings around her as loud as if she screamed it. A terrified girl is hard to stay angry at.

“You owe me,” Ian says. “You lied to your brothers, they kicked Lip’s ass and mine over it, and you never even apologized.”

Mandy crosses her arms over her chest, shoulders hunched. “Yeah, I lied, and I wish I hadn’t, but that doesn’t mean I should let you rip apart Mickey’s room.”

“Leave. If anybody asks afterward, pretend you didn’t run into me at all.”

“You don’t get it! Mickey will—”

“I get it.” Ian points at the brass knuckles. “I know what I’m doing, Mandy. If you feel even a little bit bad about telling everybody I’m a rapist, just go.”

Mandy backs out of the room, shaking her head. “It’s your funeral.”

“Promise to bring flowers, but not carnations. They smell like old people.”

When she smiles, she really is pretty. “I’ll bring, like, roses. Or lilies.”

“Roses and lilies. Works for me.”

“Not like you’d know, since you’ll be dead and all.”

After she leaves, Ian picks up a crumpled ball of notebook paper from the floor. He forces it open and finds exactly what he expects: a page of Mickey’s doodles. A football, a baseball, a woman’s torso with enormous tits.

Predictable, except for the drawing of a boy’s hand with a big palm and long, freckled fingers. It’s familiar right down to the shape of the nail beds. Ian glances between his own right hand and the sketch.

Perfect match.

Read all of Chapter 3 on AO3

Start If You Have a Problem from Chapter 1

***

AN: Maybe Michelangelo Milkovich shouldn't have left that sketch lying around...

As always, ty @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich, the best of betas, for all your support and guidance 💖

[southsidestory]

Chapter 2: Time to Collect

Mickey has made the Kash and Grab his go-to shoplifting spot. Mr. Lewandowski should send Kash a thank you card; that old polack has been trying to run Mickey out of his corner store for the last five years.

Ian works late shifts on Fridays, so he’s the one at the register when Mickey swings by at quarter to midnight. He picks up a can of barbecue Pringles, puts it back. A box of Twinkies, puts it back. A Kit Kat, puts it back. 

“Where’s the king-size?” Mickey asks.

Ian stares at him flatly. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you steal anything.”

“Sure, you aren’t.” Mickey plants his palms on the counter. “You ever go home, asswipe? Every time I come in here, you’re stocking shelves or brown-nosing customers or doing some other dumb shit.”

“That’s called working. You might’ve heard of it.”

Mickey swipes his wrist over his mouth to erase his smile. “Sounds like a waste of time to me. There’s a lot easier ways to get money.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you educate me.”

Fuck, he’s hot when he smirks like that, all snarky and lopsided.

Mickey makes himself laugh. “What, you a vice cop now? Officer Gallagher gonna get me to incriminate myself?”

“Screw that. Couldn’t pay me a million bucks to be a pig.”

Now it’s easy to laugh for real.

“Guess you’re too good for the police academy, Mr. ROTC.” Mickey picks up a packet of Big Red and turns it between his fingers. “Saving your cherry for the U.S. Army to pop when they fuck you over?”

Ian blushes like gingers always do, pink rushing to fill the pale spaces between his freckles. “That’s different. The Army protects us from foreign threats. Police are supposed to protect civilians inside our borders, but they usually go after the people who need the most help.”

“Look at that, Ian Gallagher’s swallowed the military propaganda whole.” Mickey mimes knocking back a shot. “Washed it down with some Kool-Aid, I bet.”

“Look at that, Mickey Milkovich knows the word ‘propaganda.’ That’s like sixteen points in Scrabble before bonuses.” Ian scrunches up his nose. “Course, you’d have to be able to spell it.”

Smug piece of shit.

“I’d also have to be a fucking loser who plays board games.”

Mickey rips open the Big Red packet, unwraps the foil around a slice, and pops it in his mouth. Cinnamon burns his tongue, but it’s a good heat.

“That’s ninety-five cents,” Ian says.

Mickey chews the gum with his mouth open, as loudly and obnoxiously as he can. “Your math’s off.”

“There’s no math, Mickey. The price is on the label.”

Mickey glances over the torn packet. “Fourteen pieces of gum. Ninety-five cents for all of them. I only ate one, so I owe you seven cents—that’s rounding up, so I’m being real generous here.”

Count those points, asshole.

Mickey pulls all the money out of his coat pocket—a few crumpled twenties and a handful of coins—and picks out a dime to throw on the counter. It bounces right at Ian, who barely catches it before it goes over the edge.

Mickey leaves the rest of the gum behind, says, “Keep the change,” and walks out smiling.

Read all of Chapter 2 on AO3

***

AN: You might recognize this snippet, which I used as a teaser a while back. I made a few changes, but the point stays the same: dumb boys flirting through shoplifting.

Love you @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich who are the best betas a girl could ask for <3

[southsidestory]

IYHAP Chapter 4 is completely edited! I'll post it tomorrow, probably around midday <3

[southsidestory]

195k!!

That's the grand total word count for the Gallavich fic I've been working on for FIVE MONTHS! It's 208k if I count the interludes I plan to add in the second draft but I can't think about that right now.

I swore to myself that I would work on this project without writing anything else until it was done, and I did it. This is a big deal for me, the Queen of WIPs.

195k!! Complete.

[southsidestory]

I’m reading my Gallavich fic If You Have a Problem in preparation for finishing edits. I didn’t spent half of 2023 writing that 200k first draft to never revise and post the damn thing!!! This is my year of WIP redemption, starting with IYHAP 💯