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"This is some bullshit party, innit?"
Ian looks up from his phone in search for the source of the question. He looks to his right to find a rugged looking brunette leaning on the makeshift bar counter brooding at the rest of the party.
Ian has to bite back a laugh because it's almost ridiculous how blasé this kid is trying to be. But then he curses himself because he's kind of buying it. Either way, he's so distracted by this guy's jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, ivory skin, and I-don't-give-a-fuck getup that he forgets the initial question asked of him. He's reminded when the other boy raises his eyebrow in question.
"Uh, it's okay... I'm not really a college party kind of guy."
"Oh, yeah?" Ian is starting to think this guy has some sort of uncontrollable muscle condition with his eyebrows. The brunette takes a drink from his beer.
"So, what kinda parties you into then? Lemme guess," he pauses to take another sip as he eyes Ian up and down. Ian shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "You go to those kinda parties where they got margarita mixers and five different kinds of beer...with jazz music in the background and people crackin' jokes about the economy and shit?" He laughs at Ian's reddening face, an obvious tell that he's hit the nail on the head. "Did I miss anything?"
Ian scratches his forehead. His old days as a nightclub dancer had their perks; fancy after-parties with good booze being one of them. He looks into questioning blue eyes and contemplates spilling out the most important detail; a detail he'd like this guy to know seeing as, well, Ian digs him. "Yeah, you did."
The brunette, unsurprisingly, quirks his eyebrows. His smirk eggs Ian on too.
"Everyone's gay."
The brunette freezes mid-sip and stares ahead of him for a moment, as if taking his time to process what Ian just said. It only lasts a second, though. He puts the beer down on the counter behind him and turns to Ian.
"Is that so?" he asks as a winning smile erupts on his face. Ian, in turn, absolutely cannot help the grin that erupts on his own.
"Ian Gallagher," he says as he put out his hand before the brunette. He's quick to introduce himself because more people are arriving at the frat house and he'd be damned if he didn't get to learn the brunette's name before one of his classmates whisked him away. He doesn't care if he seems too eager; he feels that him outing himself is enough of a come-on as it is. Fuck that, Ian Gallagher is going all in.
The brunette stares at Ian's outstretched hand incredulously before grabbing his beer again and taking a sip. "Mickey Milkovich."
Ian takes the hint and bashfully retreats his hand. He's not completely deterred from his advancements though; the brunette introduced himself, and that's a start. And then it hits him.
"Wait - South Side Milkovich?"
"Yeah," Mickey replies unsurely. He eyes Ian curiously, like he's waiting for Ian to bolt.
If anything, Ian's sticking around.
"A Milkovich on a college campus..." Ian lets the words flow out of his mouth, like he's trying to get used to them. "What brings you 'round here?"
"What, you think I can't make it to college?" Mickey asks, genuinely offended, and Ian blanches. "A fucking Gallagher looking down on me? I don't think so."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just - wait... What do you know about my family?"
Mickey laughs, "who doesn't fuckin' know about the Gallaghers? Man, I can't even count the amount of times I've literally egged your piece of shit dad whenever I found him passed out underneath the L."
Ian is genuinely impressed. Why hadn't he thought to do that when he still lived in the South Side? He'd go on about his family but he remembers he has to right some wrongs. He laughs it off before he tries again, "look, I'm sorry about what I said before. It's just that when you say Milkovich, you don't exactly think 'college frat boy,' you know?"
Mickey scoffs and bites his lip as he looks away. "Yeah, whatever. I ain't no frat boy anyway. I just heard about this party and thought it a good business opportunity."
Ian looks at him, utterly confused.
Mickey sighs. "I'm a weed dealer; gotta make ends meet," he says simply. He once again waits for Ian to bolt.
But Ian smiles instead, "well, I could go for a joint or two." He considers what he's going to say next, convincing himself that the alcohol he's been drinking is making him brave. "In fact, I wouldn't mind being your sole customer tonight."
Mickey would have laughed at this redheaded fucker, or even thrown in a punch, if he didn't find the flirtation absolutely endearing. What the fuck is going on with him? Getting all flustered over some guy he met five fucking minutes ago. He needs to get a fucking grip.
Before he can muster a word in response, Ian abruptly stills as he sees someone over Mickey's shoulder.
"Fuck," Ian grits out.
"What?" Mickey follows Ian's gaze but just finds himself looking at a new influx of people at the frat house doorway.
"It's this fucking kid I have Business 101 with. He's been in love with me since day one. No matter what I do or say, he can't take a damn hint."
Then Mickey spots him. The asshole beams as soon as he sees Ian and beelines it to the redhead. Mickey can't even explain it; a burning jealousy builds in his gut and before he knows it he puts his hand out towards Ian.
Ian looks as confused as a stray puppy. He looks at Mickey, down to his outstretched hand, back up to Mickey.
Mickey sighs exasperatedly, getting more frustrated the closer this fuckhead classmate gets.
"Just... Hold my fucking hand, Gallagher."
Ian's whole body burns up as he looks at the inviting hand. What the fuck is going on? The hand of a stranger he met ten fucking minutes ago is making him feel like his heart is bumping right out of his chest? He needs to get a fucking grip.
But as his classmate nears them, he hardly has time to think it over. He reaches out and intertwines his fingers with the brunette's. He can't help but notice the warmth and smoothness of Mickey's skin.
Once their hands are joined, Mickey shifts his gaze back to the classmate, shooting him a glare that clearly reads, fuck the fuck off. The kid stops in his step and looks down at Mickey and Ian's joined hands; he definitely looks like he's nearly shit himself when he looks at Mickey's face next. He's subsequently and effectively averted from his initial destination and turns to join another group of people on the other side of the floor instead.
Mickey huffs proudly and looks back to Ian. His triumphant smirk has Ian speechless, if he wasn't already speechless with the whole turn of events. But before he can say or do anything to show his gratitude, Mickey lets go of Ian's hand, much to the redhead's chagrin.
Mickey then shifts to bump Ian's shoulder with his own. He leans in close and says, "I think we just found a hint he'll definitely take."
Ian smiles foolishly at the victorious Mickey Milkovich. Whatever, he'll have all night to show his gratitude, but right now, he's gonna lean on this bar counter, and drink in as much Milkovich as he possibly can.