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Kevin isn’t stupid. Reading is sometimes hard for him (and the fact that circle doesn’t start with an s still pisses him off sometimes), and his math skills need a little work, but he’s good at reading people. Some people know books and shit, Kev knows people.
He’s cleaning glasses, chatting with Billy, who mostly grunts and nods, when Ian walks in. He looks much better than the last time Kevin saw him, and Fiona had mentioned in passing that Ian had started taking a new kind of medication for his disorder. Kevin still doesn’t quite understand what exactly Bipolar Disorder is, but from what Veronica described and what he saw from Monica he’s glad Ian had gotten some help.
“Hey Kev,” Ian greets with a small wave, sliding onto an unoccupied bar stool.
“Mickey isn’t here yet,” Kevin says filling up a glass with some soda (he knows Ian can't drink alcohol with his medication, having heard Mickey mention it a few times) and slides the glass towards Ian.
“I know,” the redhead says sipping the coke. “He’s on his way.”
Kevin nods, refilling Billy’s mug, just as the door swings open. Mickey walks in, a flicker of worry and anger in his eyes, making a beeline for Ian, but before the redhead can greet the shorter boy, Mickey flings a plastic pill box at him and snarls, “Forget something this morning?”
“What?” Ian glances down at the pill box. “Oh, wow, I had been so busy I must have…”
“Take it now.” Mickey gestures to the pill box. “And stop fucking forgetting.” He storms away before Ian could say anything, snapping at a couple of his girls, telling them to stop drinking and get their asses upstairs. Ian sighs, popping the pill box open. He swallows his medication with the aid of some coke and stands up, chasing after Mickey.
*
“Oh, come the fuck on, ref! You missed that call by a mile,” Kevin shouts at the TV, throwing a Cheeto at the screen. “This is fucking stupid!”
“It’s just a game, Kev,” Mickey comments with a smirk, getting to his feet.
“To you maybe, but to us, Mick, it’s a lifestyle,” Ian replies with a grin. Mickey rolls his eyes, heading into the kitchen. He returns a few moments later carrying two bottles, handing a soda to Ian as he sits next to him, the redhead taking it without looking away from the screen.
Kevin watches as they gravitate towards each other, how Ian leans into Mickey’s arm when he rests it against the back of the couch. Mickey lights a cigarette, absentmindedly handing it to Ian, and the redhead readily takes it, taking a long drag on it.
About halfway through the game, Mickey passes out against Ian, and Kevin notices the redhead slowly dragging his fingers through the brunet’s hair. He holds a smirk at bay, returning his attention to the game.
*
Kevin is taking the trash out when he hears the voices coming from the Gallaghers’ back yard. He doesn’t really want to get involved in any lovers’ quarrels, but after spending years with Veronica, he’s become a bit more nosy, so he just kind of stays still, listening.
“Can we not talk about this again,” Ian asks sharply, turning to face Mickey. The shorter boy stops suddenly, a scowl on his face. “I am not quitting my job.”
“Why? I mean, I’m sure Linda will give you your job back, hell even Kev might hire you at the bar.” Kevin can’t afford to hire Ian, but he keeps his mouth shut. “There’s that burger joint across from the free clinic…”
Ian sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you want me to quit my job at the club?”
Mickey’s quiet for a moment, but he finally sighs and says, “Because.”
“That’s it? Seriously?” Ian huffs and turns, heading back towards the house.
Kevin is reminded of another time, at The Alibi, seconds before the Milkoviches destroyed his bar, and even hears Mickey mutter, “Fuck,” before he yells, “Because I’m tired of those geriatric viagroids touching you!”
Ian stops, keeping his back to Mickey. He finally sighs, turns around, and says, “I’ll ask if I can tend bar, if that’ll make you happy.” There’s a smirk on his face when he continues, “You’re jealous.”
“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbles glaring at the ground.
“It’s kinda cute,” Ian teases with a grin, moving towards Mickey.
“I hate you,” the shorter boy replies, but he’s unable to fight a smile.
“No you don’t.”
When they start kissing, Kevin feels like he invaded their privacy enough, and heads back inside, accepting the baby Veronica shoves into his hands without complaint.
*
Kevin’s cleaning tables when the bar door opens. Mickey and Ian walk inside, the latter pushing a stroller. Yev, who Kevin has seen a lot of over the past few months, is passed out, loosely clutching a battered looking monkey, his blond hair sticking up all over his head, one of his shoes missing.
“When is she getting back?” Ian asks curiously, digging into Yev’s diaper bag.
“I have no fucking clue,” Mickey responds waiting until Ian is inside before closing the door. “Svetlana told me Nika was taking her on some stupid fucking trip."
“To where?” Ian asks pulling a bottle from the bag.
“I don’t know. A whore convention maybe.” Mickey takes the bottle from Ian, gesturing for the younger boy to push Yev towards one of the tables. They sit down, Mickey coaxing Yev awake, lifting the baby from the stroller.
Yev blinks, owlish, blue eyes scanning the room before falling on Ian. He smiles, a large, toothless grin, and reaches for the redhead. Mickey relinquishes the kid, along with the bottle, digging into the stroller, making a triumphant sound when he finds Yev’s other shoe.
“I fucking told you we didn’t leave it at home,” he says shoving the shoe in the bag Ian had set on the floor.
“Yeah yeah,” Ian replies feedng Yev the bottle. “Do you need anything at the store? I was thinking about going later today, maybe stopping by to see if Fiona or Debbie can watch Yev tonight.” Ian lifts an eyebrow suggestively, Mickey obviously getting the message, and Kevin has to cough so they don’t start making out in the middle of the bar.
“V and I can watch the rugrat,” he offers carrying a tote full of glasses behind the bar. “Her mom’s bringing Ethan over, it’ll be fine.” Kevin’s not quite sure why he offers, but the gratitude flickering in Ian and Mickey’s eyes lets him know he made a good call.
*
Kevin’s leaning against the counter in the Gallagher’s kitchen, nursing his third beer, watching as Mickey and Ian whisper to each other from their position on the stairs. From the living room, Kevin can hear Veronica laughing at something Lip or Fiona said, followed by a squeal from Gemma or Amy.
Ian stands first, offering Mickey a hand, and when the shorter boy takes it, the redhead hauls him to his feet and leads him upstairs. Kevin tracks their movements until their feet disappear, he then walks into the living room.
*
Ian’s eating a plate of wings, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans, when Kevin casually says, “You and Mickey get married without telling anyone?” Ian looks up, confused. “Just wondering is all. You two seem so ghetto married, I thought maybe you got hitched for real.”
“No,” Ian answers shaking his head. He’s quiet for a moment, but he shrugs and adds, “So what if we are.”
“Exactly,” Kevin agrees just as Mickey appears at Ian’s side, which doesn’t surprise Kevin one bit.
“What the fuck you two talking about?” he grumbles snagging one of Ian’s wings.
“Kev here says we’re ghetto married,” Ian answers nodding at Kevin.
Mickey doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but finally he sniffs, grabs Ian’s soda, and says, “Don’t expect a fucking ring or anything.”