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Mickey stumbles out of his bedroom, cracking his spine and yawning wide. “Yo, the fuck is all the noise?”
Ian drops his head back against the sofa, the light of the television playing across his features. “We were feeling Call of Duty.”
“Yes, with zombies.” Svetlana’s head tilts back beside Ian’s.
Mickey fights an eye roll. He lives with fucking idiots. Grabbing a probably clean glass from the sink, Mickey turns on the faucet and fills it partway with water. “It’s two in the fucking morning.”
Yevgeny’s fuzzy head pops up between the two adults. He grins goofily, reaching his little arms out in a silent plea for Mickey to join them. “Not tired,” he chirps.
“Uh-huh,” Mickey says, eyeing the two and half year old suspiciously, as he sets his empty glass on the counter. “Wouldn’t be cuz knucklehead over here let you have juice after dinner?” He ruffles the back of Ian’s head, the knucklehead in question, as he cross to the living room.
“Nu-uh.” Yev shakes his head determinedly, his fluffy hair making him look like a guilty baby chicken. One who would never give away Ian, his most loyal accomplice.
Kid is like fucking Buster from Arrested Development when it comes to juice. Goes completely bonkers on it. But Ian gives it to him anyway, because he’s a sucker and can be drawn in by Yevgeny’s bogus innocent faces.
Yev bounces on the couch as Mickey drops down beside Ian and Mickey readily holds out his arms for Yevgeny to crawl into. Yevgeny does so with no preamble, crushing the hell out of Ian’s nuts as he goes. Ian winces fiercely but bites back any vocalization of pain like the tough guy he is always trying to convince Mickey he is.
“We play, yes?” Svetlana asks, openly smirking at Ian’s discomfort. Woman has some serious hate for dicks, even ones that have fuck all interest in getting near her.
“Yeah, we play,” Ian grits out, hitting x to resume the paused game.
Mickey laughs, spurring Yevgeny into ecstatic chortles. Kid doesn’t care what the hell is happening, if someone else is laughing, he is damned all determined to join in. He burrows into Mickey, face shoved right up in Mickey’s fucking armpit, little feet banging against his knee.
“We shoot the fucking nazi zombies,” Svetlana explains as if Mickey had asked.
“Yeah, I know what the fucking game is, Lana,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes heavily as he digs his fingers into Yev’s sides to make him laugh harder. Kid has the best fucking laugh. Even better than Ian’s, and Ian’s got some top shelf laughter.
Ian kicks at Mickey’s ankle. “Don’t be jealous, you’ll get a turn, Mick.”
“Yeah, Mick,” Yev singsongs, twisting around away from Mickey’s tickling and plopping down in his lap instead. Mickey grunts at the sudden impact and Ian smirks, fucker.
“Sharing is caring, right, Yev?” Ian asks, not looking away from the screen as he bends and kisses the top of Yev’s fluffy strawberry blonde hair.
Yevgeny beams because of fucking course Mickey’s kid adores Ian as much as Ian adores him. Thick as thieves and pains in Mickey’s ass. “Yep!” Yev cheers, popping the ‘p’ with gusto.
“Less talking, more shooting,” Svetlana scolds, face creasing in annoyance. “We are losing to Nazis.”
“Bad Nazis!” Yevgeny shouts, little arms flailing into the air, one smacking Mickey’s chest and the other clocking Ian’s chin.
Letting out an overemphasized groan of pain, Ian flops dramatically across Lana’s lap. She cries out in disgust, shoving Ian hastily onto the floor and trying to make up lost time against the Nazis. Ian hits the floor with a thunk.
Yev wriggles desperately out of Mickey’s arms, collapsing on Ian’s back. He crawls up Ian’s shoulders, tugging anxiously at Ian’s orange hair. “Ian! Ian!”
Mickey’s boyfriend moans pitifully; Mickey smirks even as he shakes his head. “Shithead’s fine, Yev.”
“Yes, shithead!” Sveltana accuses. “You make me lose to fucking Nazis!” She kicks at Ian’s ribs. Yev clutches on more tightly, rocking with the movement of Ian’s body, still lifeless on the carpet.
“Jesus. Give me the controller.” Mickey snatches it and set up his wife with a single player game. “Have at ‘em”
She pecks his cheek before gunfire erupts on the screen; Mickey sinks to his knees beside the inert Ian and the increasingly alarmed Yevgeny. One problem handled, Mickey prepares to tackle the next.
“Okay, tough guy,” he swats none too lightly at his boyfriend’s ass, “knock it off before you traumatize my kid.”
Ian lets out a fucking impressive death rattle which Mickey correctly interprets as a big middle finger. Yev, though, not getting the memo, wails loudly, throwing himself atop Ian’s head. Mickey hopes he fucking deafens the prick for upsetting a toddler hopped up on juice at two in the fucking morning.
“Yo, Gallagher!” He settles himself on top of Ian’s ass and starts trying to pry his kid off, but Yev is like a fucking barnacle or some shit and isn’t releasing even a tiny bit. “Get the fuck up.”
“Ian, Ian,” Yev cries, clinging more desperately the harder Mickey tugs.
“He’s fine, Yev,” Mickey tiredly placates.
Jesus. It’s two am, what the fuck is Mickey even doing up? He’s got work in a few hours. He should be sleeping. Preferably with his boyfriend wrapped around him. But no. He’s trying to prevent psychological damage to his kid while his wife fucks around with zombies.
“No, Daddy!” Yev wails. “Ian is died!”
“Dead,” Svetlana corrects absentmindedly. “Ian is dead.”
“Dead!” Yev wails even louder, little feet kicking the floor.
“For fuck’s sake!” How is this Mickey’s life? How? Mickey is twenty-one, he is way too fucking young to be bitching about being awake at two am, but this is his life and he’s stuck with it. And he’s stuck with these three idiots too. “Ian is not dead, Yev, he’s a fucking asshole.” Then Mickey pounces on Ian, tickling him mercilessly in all the places Mickey knows will make him shriek like a fucking girl.
And he does. Ian shrieks and writhes, sending Yev swinging in all directions as he continues to clutch at Ian’s hair, wails turning into peals of breathless laughter. Svetlana kicks at them, her toes skimming MIckeys’ forearm and Ian’s ribs.
“You make me lose!” she bitches, scowling down imperiously at them.
“Oh yeah?” Mickey asks, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yes,” she glares, “all of you. All your fault.”
Mickey presses his lips together, nodding seriously as he continues to run his fingers over Ian’s ribs so that his laughter drowns out Yevgeny’s. “Mhm, okay then.” He shoots a hand out, yanking on her ankle and tumbling her down with them.
Ian escapes in the chaos, pulling Yev with him as he rolls away from Mickey, tears of laughter in his eyes. Svetlana slaps at Mickey cursing him out colorfully in Russian. Yevgeny laughs gleefully, twisting around to help as Mickey launches himself back at Ian to resume his tickle assault.
And yeah, it’s two o’fucking clock in the morning, and this is Mickey’s life. These are the idiots he’s stuck with. He fucking loves this shit.