Chapter Text
The first time he meets Mickey Milkovich, he’s playing tag.
He’s in Lip’s grade and shares all of his classes. He doesn’t talk to him much but Lip notices when he does as he's fairly hard to miss when he's cursing out a teacher. He sees him around the halls, pushing his peers and snarling at anyone who dares to talk or look at him wrong.
So when Lip spots him, sitting alone on the swing set, he decides to go talk to him, strutting over and plopping down on the swing next to him. He stares at him for a minute, admiring the cool drawings he’s made on his skin with a sharpie and the dirt and cuts on his forehead that Lip is sure he got in a fight.
“What’re you staring at?” Mickey asks rudely.
Lip squints his eyes, “You,” he says bluntly.
Mickey stammers, apparently not expecting that answer. He crosses his arms, “Well, stop, it’s weird."
Mickey gets up and walks away, leaving Lip to pout and question what the feeling unfurling inside his chest was.
Throughout the course of their years together, they shift in and out of each other’s orbits. Mickey asks Lip to do his homework for him for a couple bucks which makes Lip ask him why he even cares about school. Every time he asks him though, Mickey threatens to take the money back so eventually Lip learns to stop questioning it. Lip gets some weed from Mickey, he’s not sure why since he doesn’t smoke it that often and there are plenty cheaper places to go, but hey, he might as well buy from a local, right? Right.
Years pass, Lip and Mickey interacting and begrudgingly respecting each other.
He finds out Ian’s in love with him, dates his sister, breaks her heart, then finds out Ian left because of him as well. It’s a messy timeline but when Ian leaves, he’s the only one who knows to go to Mickey.
He finds him on the porch of the Milkovich home, drinking a beer and looking pensively into the distance. Lip stops for a minute and looks up at him, admiring his side profile and feeling his heart stutter.
Then he remembers why he’s there and everything shifts back into place.
He lets time pass again, focusing on school, focusing on finding Ian, focusing on-
The way Mickey looks in my t-shirt, oh my god, he’s wearing my shirt.
When Ian comes back, so too does Mickey arrive, in all of his sarcastic, dark and pretty glory. Suddenly Mickey’s around constantly, laughing, lounging on the couch, wearing his shirts, eating his food. But he’s doing all of it because of Ian. When Ian’s in the living room, Mickey is too, right next to him, brushing against his shoulder either on accident or on purpose. When Ian makes a joke, Mickey laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever been told. When Ian isn’t looking, when he’s caught up in something and Mickey thinks no one is paying attention, he looks at him as if he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.
Lip finds himself longing for a look like that, just one, from Mickey. He finds that every time Mickey and Ian share a secret look, one where they’re speaking a different language that only they know, he gets a pang in his heart. An ugly thing twists in his gut and makes him simmer with quiet anger.
But then he meets Joaquin. He’s funny and cool, not as stuck up or pretentious as everyone else filling the halls and classrooms around him.
Unfortunately for Joaquin, what happens to him is what happens to everything Lip likes. He gets hurt. Real bad. So they go to hospital and he waits by his side all night, feeling vaguely like a serial killer, watching him heal from the broken bones that Lip caused.
He scoots the chair closer and throws himself a pity party while the one good friend he has sleeps in pain.
He isn’t sure why he feels such a pull to stay nor is he sure if he cares. He just lets himself feel close to Joaquin, sitting by his side, waiting for him to wake. It’s the same pull that used to be there when he was with Mickey, admiring the way he looked dark and beautiful, and he didn’t mind the feeling. He also didn't mind that Mickey looked that beautiful.
It’s another thing that makes him feel like a serial killer. Because, while he sits by Joaquins bedside, he can’t help thinking about how pretty he looks, how peaceful.
But whatever, he can’t help it.
Then Joaquin wakes up and the watching ends, he goes back to throwing quick glances and designing intricate rituals that allow for affection and closeness.
He wonders if Joaquin ever does the same.
He finds out one night at a party, where his face is covered in glitter and beads and music thumps to the same speed of his heart beat. He finds Joaquin in a crowded hallway, surrounded by people dancing and throwing up. He’s dazed but his limbs feel loose and his mind lets go.
They lock eyes and Joaquin jerks his head towards a dorm room, he walks there silently. Lip follows closely, not wanting to lose him.
He sits down on the random bed and lays back while Joaquin wanders around the room, aimless and bored. Lip follows him with his eyes, watches him tilt his head back and blow breath out of his mouth. His lips are chapped and red, Joaquin chews on them when he’s thinking, making them puffy.
Why do I know that?
There’s a moment where he feels brave and free; where he feels invincible and stupid but inviolable. Nothing can touch him but everything’s within reach.
Moments like these are dangerous because Lip decides in that one second that he's gonna do it.
He gets up and grabs Joaquins face, smashing their lips together. A heated storm brews between them and Lip feels hands on his waist and pulls him in deeper and closer until they’re bodies are mashed together in an uncomfortable yet desperate way. He swings his arms around his neck and pushes every last thought out of his head, instead choosing to focus on the soft yet slightly chapped sensation of Joaquin’s lips against his own.
Joaquin somehow manages to break away from this riptide they’ve created to ask, “Do you wanna go back to my dorm?”
Lip processes what he says. This doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s just sex, right? It’s not like he wants to spoon or hold hands or something, “Sure,” they untangle and wade through the sea of drunk young adults who have papers due in the morning until they return to Joaquin’s room.
They lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
This isn’t what I thought was going to happen, Lip thinks to himself.
“You don’t sound very sober. Not gonna do that when you’re about to throw up on me.”
Lip realizes he said it out loud then realizes that Joaquin’s right. He doesn’t speak so Joaquin continues, “Besides, have you ever even done this before?”
Lip feels himself shrink and get defensive, sex is sex, sure he’s done this before, “Not with a guy but it’s not like this is new territory here.”
Joaquin laughs a little, Lip relaxes when he hears it; everything’s normal, nothings changed, “Sorta is, you know? Plus, I think I kinda like you, I don’t want this to just be some experiment that you regret later.”
“Oh, you want it to be special?” Lip teases.
“Fuck off,” Joaquin responds quickly, “So is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Just an experiment?”
Lip thinks about it. He supposes it is but not in the way Joaquin is suggesting. He isn’t sure what he wants it to be.
"Not sure."
Joaquin looks over at him, "Well, are you gay?"
Lip shakes his head immediately.
Joaquin continues, "Do you think you're straight?"
This answer takes more time. He's always figured he was. He likes girls, he knows that for a fact, so he's not gay.
But straight isn't the right title either, it doesn’t encompass the whole picture; maybe he's somewhere in the middle of these labels. Feeling confused and horny and defensive, Lip opts to avoid the question all together, "Are you?"
Joaquin shakes his head, "Nope," he puts a pop to the p and stretches his arms out, arching his back.
Okay, definitely not straight, Lip thinks, taking in the sight.
"So you're gay?" Lip asks again.
Joaquin shakes his head again, and repeats, "Nope,” he smiles, as if he’s just told a joke he knew Lip wouldn’t understand.
Lip furrows his eyebrows and splutters, "There are other options?” He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks down at Joaquin, who looks tired.
“Several, dumbass. I’m bisexual, you know, men and woman and whatever. I just like,” he cuts himself off and searches for the words, “people,” he settles on.
Oh, Lip thinks. He doesn’t think he’s related to anything more than that one sentence.
I just like people.
“I’m tired,” Joaquin rubs his eyes and yawns. Lip lays back down beside him and relaxes, repeating the label in his head.
Bisexual, bisexual, bisexual.
Lip doesn’t feel tired but he nods anyways, unsure of what to do or say, “Alright, do you want me to go?” he asks, he feels he’s intruding, like he shouldn’t be laying next to this beautiful, smart guy who genuinely likes him enough to want to wait to fuck.
Joaquin shakes his head, “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t think I want to,” Lip closes his eyes, feeling Joaquin move around next to him, the bed dipping, then suddenly pressure on his chest.
Joaquin’s head nuzzled into the crook of Lip’s neck, his hair tickling his nose and his arm slung across Lip’s torso haphazardly.
Lip feels the need to speak, to say something, to make a quip but as soon as he opens his mouth, he’s interrupted, “Just shut the fuck up, you prick, go to sleep,” Joaquin mumbles against his neck.
Lip does as he’s told and shuts his mouth, wrapping his arms around the boy holding onto him. He closes his eyes and breathes, he smells Joaquins cheap shampoo and feels himself fall deeper into sleep.
Yep, definitely not straight. Bisexual though, that might work.
When he opens his eyes, the pleasant pressure on his chest is gone. He looks around the room to Joaquin sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. Lip sits up, “Are you gonna leave now? Or should I?”
Joaquin clicks his tongue, “Depends, do you want to leave?”
“No, do you?”
“Nope,” he does another sharp pop but this time it makes Lip’s head hurt but his breath catches.
Joaquin hasn’t looked at him directly and Lip decides to fix the problem by tugging at his bicep until he does. He turns around and Lip can see his fluffy hair tangled and his eyes dark with sleep. Joaquin doesn’t meet his eyes immediately, he’s looking around his face. Lip realizes his eyes are encircled by golden glitter and beads stuck to his cheek bones in decoration.
Abruptly, Joaquin leans forward, this time, it’s soft. Not without error, but perfect nonetheless.
Lip pulls back for a moment, just to look at him, “I think I might be bisexual.”
Joaquin’s face breaks out into a smile and then erupts into laughter, “Yeah, maybe.”
Time passes again, the label fading to the background. Joaquin and him occasionally hooking up, going out on proper dates, along with a slew of other guys and girls that come and go, none sticking around for too long.
Eventually, he’s sitting in the living room, surrounded by his family. Somehow the conversation ventured into ex’s. Fiona and Ian brought up shitty ex-boyfriends. Lip waits for Mickey’s name to be dropped at some point but when ex-boyfriends were mentioned, Ian looked far away for a moment so Lip didn’t mention it. They traded stories, laughing at Gallagher misfortune in love and lust.
Then Lip thinks about the guy he dated very briefly who told him he was his soulmate on date number two so he announced it to the group, waiting for them to gawk at the story.
But the conversation stops dead in its tracks, everyone stares at him.
“What?” Lip asks.
Ian speaks up first, “A guy?”
Lip nods, “Yeah, I don’t remember his name. It was like Jeremy or something, he was-”
“You dated a guy?” Ian says again.
“Yeah?” Lip’s confusion seems to confuse the rest of his family, then he remembers-
“Oh, shit, that’s what I forgot to do!”
Fiona leans forward, “What do you mean? You’re gay?”
Lip shakes his head, “Nope,” he remembers Joaquin's smug smile when he said, as if he had his own little joke that Lip wasn’t in on. He finally gets it.
“Then why’d you date a dude?” Carl pipes up from the kitchen.
“Cause I wanted to.”
“So you’re bi,” Debbie offers nonchalantly, she’s analyzing her cuticles, “Cut the shit, Lip.”
Fiona and Ian are both tilting their heads but Fiona is the only one who can muster a question, “When the fuck were you gonna tell us?”
“Don’t know. Kind of forgot about it,” Lip answers honestly.
“Alright, well that’s three out of six,” Carl laughs.
“What?” Fiona asks, still riddled with confusion.
“Three out of six of us are gay.”
“Bi,” Lip corrects.
“I prefer the term queer,” Debbie corrects after him, still not fully paying attention to the conversation.
There’s something freeing in the way he can say that. It’s not in saying it to someone else, despite what coming out experiences on television have shown him, he doesn’t really care whether or not people know. But saying it, because he wants to, not because someone else wants to know, is something that Lip wasn’t expecting to enjoy. He revels in the label, in knowing what to call himself, in being a little smug about it because sue him, he’s proud.
“Welcome to the club then, big brother,” Ian says in solidarity, giving a two finger salute.
“It’s sooo fun here,” his little sister says sarcastically.
Lip thinks she’s right, despite the mocking tone, he’s having the time of his life. Lip Gallagher is a traumatized, newly outed bisexual college dropout. And proud.