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Ian was barely holding it together.
He had stopped by the grocery store to pick up some fruit for Svetlana, who was pregnant with Surrogate Baby No. 3 and really craving raspberries. He was just heading down the cereal aisle when he heard a couple of teenaged boys whispering to each other.
“Did you see Mickey Milkovich in the parking lot?” one of them hissed. Ian peered at them from in between boxes of Frosted Flakes. They were both pretty scrawny— one of them was blond and spotted with acne and the other other was mousy and wearing an oversized sweatshirt.
“Holy shit, yeah! In the car?” the other one replied. “He was just sitting there glaring at something. You think he was waiting for somebody?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” the first one—the blond— said. “Jake once got some drugs from Mickey a couple of years ago, maybe he’s selling again?”
Sometimes Ian forgot what a legend Mickey was in the Southside. Ian hadn’t seen that side of Mickey in years— he stopped pimping, dealing, and stealing about two months after Yevgeny turned a year old. Apparently his reduced criminal activity hadn’t done anything to diminish his reputation. Mickey would be glad to know.
Still, it was hilarious to hear these two boys talking in whispers with such obvious fear about the great Mickey Milkovich loitering in the parking lot of Save-A-Lot. Ian grabbed a box of Fruit Loops for Mandy before rounding the corner and walking up the same aisle as the boys. He stood about five feet away from the boys and pretended to be considering which brand of peanut butter crackers to buy.
“He’s such a thug,” the mousy one said, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Did you hear about that time he beat the shit out of some teacher who was hitting on one of the Gallagher kids? Nearly landed him in jail, I don’t know how he got out of it.”
Well, Mickey’s criminal exploits had almost stopped completely.
“Yeah, I did hear about that! Fuckin’ nuts, man, I’d never try to fuck with him,” the blond replied.
“Think if we go out there and spy on him a little we might see a drug deal?”
Ian couldn’t contain his snort and the two boys whirled to stare at him.
“Sorry,” Ian said, quickly snatching a box of crackers off the shelf. “I, uh. Just thought about something funny. Sorry.”
He walked past them and headed straight for the fruit stands, doubting his ability to continue listening to the boys’ awed conversation about Mickey Milkovich, Thug Extraordinaire. He grabbed a carton of raspberries and another of blueberries for good measure before heading to checkout. Since God enjoyed testing Ian’s will, he ended up behind the two kids who were still talking about Mickey.
“I heard the second time he went to juvie, he literally provoked a cop and then fought with him,” mousy said.
“Holy shit.”
“Right! And that time he got into a bar fight with his dad?”
Ian tried and failed to suppress a sigh, but it was audible enough that the two boys turned around and gave him a weird look. He raised his eyebrows and they turned back around, but then the blond one paused and whirled around to look Ian head-on.
“Holy shit! Aren’t you Ian Gallagher?” he asked, mouth agape.
“Yeah,” Ian replied warily.
“You’re Mickey Milkovich’s boyfriend!”
“I am,” Ian confirmed.
“Wow,” the mousy one said. “That’s pretty awesome.”
“Oh yeah?” Ian said amusedly.
“Yeah! Mickey’s such a badass, what is it like?”
“Is it like being married to a mafia boss? Do you miss him when he’s in jail?”
“How often does he sell drugs? Does he still pimp? Do you help him sell drugs?”
Ian was saved from replying to any of these questions when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw it was Mickey calling.
“Hey, Mick,” he greeted him, enjoying the way the teenager’s eyebrows immediately shot up.
“Hey,” Mickey replied. “You get lost on the way to the fruit or something?”
“Sorry,” Ian replied. “I just bumped into a couple of your fans. Got caught up talking.”
“My fans?” Mickey asked in amusement. “What, I got groupies now?”
“Oh yeah,” Ian told him. “They wanted to know all about the dating life of the infamous Southside thug.”
Mickey burst into laughter. “No shit?” he said with obvious amusement. “Well, it’s nice to be getting some appreciation around here.”
“Fuck off,” Ian told him cheerfully. “I’m in line to checkout right now, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Don’t take too long,” Mickey told him. “Love ya.”
Recently, Mickey had made a habit of ending every one of theirs conversations with an “I love you” and a kiss if they were saying goodbye face-to-face. Ian, the sap that he is, thought it was the most endearing thing Mickey had ever done and felt proud when Mickey did it every time, without fail, no matter where they were.
“Love you too,” Ian replied, relishing the looks on the two teenager’s faces, and hung up.
The boys were gaping at him when the tired looking cashier barked for the next customer and they both scurried away, looking shocked.
Ian left the grocery store before the boys and climbed into the car where Mickey had it waiting in front of the store. He tossed the grocery bag in the backseat and turned to face Mickey, who immediately leaned forward and caught Ian’s lips in a kiss.
“Hey,” he said after they parted.
“Hey,” Ian replied breathlessly. “I got peanut butter crackers.”
Mickey let out an exaggerated moan and pulled him back to kiss him a little more thoroughly.
“I’d like to think this was just because you were grateful,” Ian panted against his lips, “but I think you just want to give your groupies a bit of a show.”
Mickey laughed but didn’t deny it.
“They thought you were dealing drugs in the parking lot,” Ian informed him, tilting his head to see if the boys were watching. He was pleased to see that they were outside the store, trying and failing to act nonchalant as they oogled Mickey.
Mickey snorted. “This parking lot is too full of moms to try and sell drugs in. I did it once like five years ago and some mother with a baby bitched me out. Never again.”
“Oh, Mickey!” Ian said, pitching his voice higher and pretending to swoon. “You’re such a thug.”
“Fuck off,” Mickey said with a smile. “You got the berries?”
“Of course I got the berries.”
“Good,” Mickey said. “We’ll go drop them off to Svet and then fuck in every parking lot I’ve ever dealt drugs in. For old time's sake.”
Ian perked up. “Every parking lot?”
Mickey nodded. “As many as we can manage. You up for it, Gallagher?”
“Fuck yeah,” Ian replied, buckling his seatbelt eagerly. “Let’s go.”
(He couldn’t contain his laughter when Mickey honked twice as they passed the two boys, causing themselves to nearly piss in fear.)