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It’s not his fucking fault.
All the events that led up to this very moment isn’t his fault. Sure, Mickey is the one that walked away. He got into his car and started driving and now he was heading out of Chicago at…he glances at the clock on the dashboard…2:32 am. On any regular night he’d already by dead asleep. But even if he stayed he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The lump in his throat and the contracting tightness of his chest just wouldn’t allow it. He tries to focus on the road, to figure out where exactly he’s going. He didn’t really have a plan at all, but when the yelling and tears just increased so did his long ago default mechanism of running in order to save his own skin.
Now he’s driving down a less than busy street just after midnight still wearing his work clothes from an entire day’s work. All he really wanted was to come home, eat a nice hot meal, maybe get fucked hard into the mattress of their new king sized bed and then sleep until the next day’s afternoon, his regular routine when he had a day off. But instead of spending hours on his back with his legs spread wide while his man drilled deep into him making him forget his own damn name, they’d spent hours arguing in hushed tones so the kids won’t wake up and then all together giving up and just screaming at one another. But none of it was his fault. No, he isn’t going to accept or admit to anything being his fault. It just isn’t.
He’s not the one who said things almost ten years ago that made Mickey want the earth to swallow him whole afterwards. The little doubt lingering in his mind momentarily disappeared as Mickey thought of how justified his reactions really were. But then he had to think of the kids. He had to think of how maybe it wasn’t his idea initially to have them but he had agreed and accepted to love and care for those children, to help bring them into the world. So he hesitates momentarily as he reaches the point to turn onto the freeway. Maybe he just needs a little time…Ian will just have to wait.
The night sky was darker than Mickey can remember ever seeing it with a few stars scattered around barely glowing with the city light gleaming up in its direction. You ever think about what the sky would look like if the all the lights on earth came off? He remembers hearing Ian say. Fuck, it’s been more than a decade since he’s thought about that night.
“Why you always have to say stupid gay shit like that?” A young Mickey asked around a glowing cigarette as he buckled his pants while looking out at the baseball field. He breathes in a much needed steady breath after the most intense orgasm he’d just had. He looks over to see the way Ian’s eyes fell a little but he still had a lazy smile on his face. The young boy had a sheen of sweat over his face his short red hair glowing from the flood lights that illuminated the empty baseball field. Mickey feels an itch to lift his hand and run it through the red strands but he quickly looks away and back at the brightly lit field, “Anyways…I’m sure there are places you can go where there’s no city lights and you can watch your precious fucking Milky Way from all the down on earth.” Mickey mumbled turning his attention to the cigarette in his hand trying his best to avoid the burn in the palm of his hand that he’d gotten a couple days before when his dad held his hand against the muffler of the running car when he thought Mickey was the one who stole his last beer.
“I wanna go there some day.” Ian whispered softly almost like he didn’t even want the older boy to hear. Mickey looked at him and the way he gazed at the open green grass, his own green eyes glowing with wonder. Fuck, Mickey felt really fucking gay at that moment but he couldn’t help that nagging feeling and thought he’d been having since his last week in Juvie about a month ago. He keeps pushing out the thought that maybe he just might actually be gay out of his head because he doesn’t need to think about that kind of shit. Thinking about that kind of shit can only make him get careless with what he and Ian’s been doing and he knows he could get into a lot of deep trouble.
“You ready for round two? Or you wanna watch your fucking stars and jerk off?” Mickey teased causing Ian to laugh as he started undoing his pants for the second time that night. It was all Mickey could do not to blurt out his most recent thoughts and revelations to the boy. So he settled for revelling in the tip of Ian’s dick prodding at his already stretched hole. Sighing at the pressure and then losing himself in to sting. He braces his hands on the chain link fence of the dugout letting Ian drape himself over his back. He feels a twinge in his right leg where he got shot months ago, he moves his legs in a little to stop the slight pain that comes when he angles it badly. The movement makes Ian’s thrust feel that much tighter in him and deeper and they’re both groaning at the feeling. He feels Ian’s hot breath in the back of his neck and usually he’d snap at the boy to stop heating up his neck because the summer heat was hot enough on is own, but he likes it and he admonishes himself for wanting what he knows is coming. He feels the soft kiss Ian lays on the back of his neck like he’s done every time in the past month since Mickey got out of Juvie. Mickey hasn’t commented on it and he isn’t going to, because if he does say something it’d have to be to quit it, but he doesn’t want Ian to stop doing it. He’s been thinking a lot recently of maybe letting Ian kiss him, and before he knows it the thought of the act itself gets Mickey riled up and he teeters on the edge of his release. But fuck, kissing is too fucking gay so he pushes the thoughts out his head. But then he feels his orgasm retreats a little so he says fuck it and gives in to the fantasy.
The fantasy of letting Ian’s press his lips against Mickey’s, feeling that softness of their pillowy lips against each other. Maybe he’d let Ian slip his tongue between his lips and lick into his mouth and oh fuck he’s coming all over himself before he could even finish the thought. Ian follows right behind and his hips stutter against against Mickey’s. The redhead pulls out and he’s breathing heavy and he his neck and chest gleams with sweat. Mickey doesn’t even know when Ian had yanked his shirt off but he’s pretty glad he did because now he gets to enjoy the sight as he tucks himself into his boxers, pulls up his pants and sit on the concrete ledge. It’s a shame he doesn’t get to revel in these euphoric moments longer, it’s a shame it’s all cut short a couple weeks later when Frank catches him and Ian in the freezer at the Kash and Grab causing Mickey to go into survival mode and do what he thinks is best – punch a cop. Eight months sentence for breaking his probation.
The memory doesn’t help to appease Mickey’s anxiety in the whole thing and he wonders now if Ian is handling this situation and his feelings any better.
It’s all his fucking fault.
He knows it. Mickey knows it. Their neighbors next door knows it. The homeless guy sleeping behind their building probably knows it. It’s all Ian’s fault. There Ian went always wanting more. It wasn’t that what he and Mickey had wasn’t good enough, Ian had been thinking of this specific things since he was a teenager. He’s been wanting this for most of his life. He sighs heavily as he lets his body fall against the couch. He looks around their home. The house they bought with their money, the legal way. He looks at the fact that they have a fucking fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen counter that he can see from where he’s sitting. He fucked up. He knows that but Mickey left. That’s one Mickey not him. How the fuck could Mickey just pick up and leave? They have three kids whose in their beds now probably crying because they heard Mickey and Ian yelling. Yevgeny hasn’t gotten used to loud people screaming their feelings. Ian still remembers how soundly he slept through it all when he was just a baby. Most likely Yevgeny would still be sleeping. After all he’s got that math exam tomorrow so Ian’s hoping he didn’t hear. The other two on the other hand he doesn’t know if they’re awake. He thinks that maybe he should get up and check but his body feels like a heavy weight on the couch and he tells himself in five minutes.
He’s always been the selfish one and he’s starting to realize how big a mistake he made tonight. He couldn’t just leave shit the way it was. Everything was going fucking great. It kind of reminds Ian of when he, Mickey, Svetlana and the rest of Milkoviches all resided under one roof. They were their own version of the Tanners on Full House. And even if they got angry and started yelling shit just fizzled out and it was back to normal the next day.
“You don’t give a shit about anyone other than you and the fire fuck in there.” He could still hear Svetlana’s angry voice like it was yesterday and not ten years before. He was lying on his and Mickey’s bed with a five month old Yevgeny sleeping on his chest. He rubs a hands down the baby’s back soothingly hoping he doesn’t wake up.
“I’m fucking here aint I?” Mickey screams back, “The fuck more you want? Huh? You want my goddamn liver? It’s probably in bad fucking shape but that what you want?”
Svetlana yells something in Russian and even Ian can tell it’s not good and then Mickey’s storming in their room and heading straight for the underwear drawer. He grabs a roll of cash he’s had hidden there for a couple days before and then heads back out into the living room. Ian keeps his eyes open wide as he looks down at Yevgeny whose still sleeping his pink pouty lips parted as his cheeks is pressed against Ian’s chest. Ian can’t help but smile despite the chaos outside. “Here. This is all the fucking cash I have right now. Go buy your fucking prenatal and you better give me half of that paycheck you collect when you off load that baby.” Mickey grumbled before coming back into their room and slamming the door. He looks up at Ian as he shrugs off his hoodie like he’s now noticing the redhead there with the sleeping baby, “Sorry.” He mutters as he strips his jeans and his T-shirt off before heading into the bathroom.
Ian can feel himself drifting off to sleep, his hand still rubbing at Yev’s back when he hears the bedroom door open. He opens his eyes to see Svetlana walking in, she’s ready to head out, “Watch Yevgeny while I go to doctors appointment. I be back before you go to club.” Ian only nods as she heads out of the room and then he hears the front door slam. Ian lets his eyes fall close again until he feels the bed dip when Mickey lays down. He feels Mickey’s heat come closer and his face bury isn’t the space between Ian’s head and shoulder. When he opens his eyes again its to see Mickey’s hand holding one Yev’s and it’s the first time he’s ever seen Mickey allow himself to be comforted by the child. He lets his eyes fall close again until he wakes up a hour later to Yev’s soft whimpers as lays between Mickey and Ian.
Ian blinks back a couple tears as he sits on their couch thinking back on the days when his heart would swell whenever he saw just a glimpse of how much love Mickey really had to give. He wonders why it never seems to be enough and why he always tends to push for more. He looks down at his phone on the coffee table and picks it up dialing Mickey’s number.
This is Mickey…leave a message or don’t don’t. I don’t really give a fuck.
Ian smiles before he hears the beep, “Hey…I think it’s time you come home, Mick. We don’t even have to talk. I’ll sleep on the couch if it makes you feel better. Please. Come home.”
“Fuck Mickey, I fucked up. Come home so I can tell you I’m sorry.”
“Hey…it’s me again. I get why you got mad…actually I don’t. I don’t have a fucking clue what was so wrong with me asking you to marry me. Come home and tell me.”
“Mick…I love you so much. I messed up and I really just wanna see you and tell you that. Please come home babe.” He sobbed before throwing the phone to the counter. He lets his body relax into the plush grey couch before quickly being startled by the small voice on the other end of the room, “Dad”
He looks up to see their three year old twins standing in their doorway each holding an end of their fuzzy blanket. Their red hair disheveled, one face with tears streaming down. “Come here.” He says with open arms as the waddle over towards him. They each climb onto the couch with his help settling on either side of him. “Sorry we woke you baby.” He said to them both while rubbing their backs. He looks down at his little girl as she looks up at him while pressing his cheek to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He says again wiping a tear from her face and kissing his little boy’s head.