Work Text:
***
Ian spent the rest of winter and summer waiting for Mickey to get out of juvie.
He visited him a couple of times, brought him cigarettes, and despite not acting like it, Ian knew Mickey was happy to see him every time. Ian also knew that no one else visited Mickey in juvie.
Not Mandy, because she didn’t like being frisked.
Not Terry, because he didn’t give a damn about Mickey, or his other kids.
Not one of his brothers, because they had better shit to do.
But Ian did.
***
When Mickey got out of juvie, Ian insisted he’d go with Mandy to get him. Ian lied about his reason because Mandy couldn’t know he was fucking Mickey.
Mickey got out and despite not acting like it, Ian knew Mickey was happy to see him.
Later that day they hung out at the dugouts.
Ian offered Mickey to help him find a job. He would talk to Linda. He wanted to be around Mickey every minute of the day, and he could at least try to get him a job where they would be together every day. He would lay out whatever lie he could to Linda, and hope it’d be enough.
There was nothing hurried about that night. They fucked more than once, they drank, and they talked. That night was one of the many to follow, where they shared something about themselves with each other. Ian told Mickey about his dream to become an officer, and Mickey listened.
There was something different about Mickey but Ian couldn’t figure out what.
Maybe it was the way he smiled. Mickey didn’t smile a whole lot before, but there was something that night that made him smile. A lot. Ian fell in love with Mickey’s smile that night.
“The fuck did you do to your hair?” Mickey asked him after their third beer.
“I cut it,” Ian shrugged. “It’s summer and it’s hot.”
“I like it,” Mickey confessed, crushing a beer can in his hand.
“You do?” Ian smiled.
“You looked like a cartoon character with all that hair falling in your face,” Mickey replied quickly.
What Mickey didn’t tell Ian was that he loved his haircut because now he could see Ian’s whole face, including the freckles on his forehead.
Mickey decided that night, that the next time they fucked, they would do it face to face.
***
Mickey had never enjoyed a summer more in his life.
The fact that he got to see Ian every day, and work with him, and spend time with him made his summer better.
Mickey never liked summers. It was always too hot, or too sunny. But if every summer was like that one, then summer would be his favourite season.
***
Ian never felt like the smart one in his family. They had Lip for that. Ian’s confidence came from his body and his ROTC training, but not his brain.
When he got his score from his trigonometry test he was thrilled. He hadn’t expected to score that high. No one asked him about it though.
Not Lip, who tutored him; He had his own problems with Karen.
Not Fiona, who was always so interested in their education; She had her own problems with her job.
Not Debbie or Carl, who looked up to him as an older brother; They were just kids and they had other things to care about.
But Mickey did.
“Hey ,how did that trigonometry test go?” Mickey asked Ian the next day at work as he was restocking the fridge with beer.
“What?” Ian asked, surprised.
“That trigonometry test you had yesterday. Did you get your score?”
“Yeah. I got a B,” Ian replied in awe that Mickey remembered that. He’d only mentioned it once, and they were stoned.
“A B? Are these teachers fucking serious? You studied your ass off for that test,” Mickey said. “Anyway, that’s why I hate school, man. Nothing works right there.”
“I thought I did pretty good actually. I was never good at Math.”
“Are you kidding? You deserved more,” Mickey said and went back to his work.
No one asked him about his test. But Mickey did. And Mickey thought he deserved more.
***
Mickey hated his father. He really did. Every time he went home to a drunk Terry he wished he had stayed five minutes longer with Ian. Though he prefered drunk Terry over sober Terry; Sober Terry never missed a punch.
Ian hated his father too. Mickey knew that because Ian had talked about it a couple of times when they got drunk. He was happy he wasn’t Frank’s biological son and that he therefore didn’t have any obligations towards him. Mickey couldn’t admit he hated his dad, though. Not to Ian. Not to anyone.
He had to act like he didn’t care about his dad in front of Ian. He actually had to look up to him and keep him as an example, because everyone in the neighbourhood feared them because of Terry and his name.
Mickey was glad Ian didn’t ask about Terry. Even when he came to work bruised, Ian didn’t comment on it. He’d only trace the bruises with his fingers when they fucked.
And Mickey didn’t care about that because he didn’t want to ruin the moment. If it had been during any other time, Mickey would’ve probably pushed Ian off, uncomfortable with Ian getting so intimate with him.
After they started fucking face to face, however, things already got too intimate between them.
It started of as something simple that Mickey suggested. It would change their angle and it would be good to try something different. Mickey tried to make it sound like it was all about his pleasure, and to be honest, being able to see Ian while they fucked was his pleasure.
Because Ian was different.
He didn’t look like a kid anymore. His hair was shorter, his body was bigger, and he was a few inches taller. But Mickey couldn’t afford Ian knowing that. So he made it sound like it was all about his pleasure.
And with the angle changing, more things changed with it.
Like the way Ian would hold Mickey’s hand and how he’d lace his fingers with Mickey’s. Or how Ian would lean down and whisper into his ear how good it felt. Or when Mickey moaned Ian’s name by accident that one time, and then avoided eye contact with him for the rest of the day, just so he could balance out the intimacy.
But Mickey didn’t mind these changes. They scared the shit out of him, but he couldn’t walk away. It was a different kind of scared to when he was around Terry.
It was a fear that he could push himself to his limits and come out happy from that. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, spending time with Ian made him happy.
***
Wanna come over?
Where?
My house. We still have some of Kevin’s weed left.
No.
Ian put his phone down. He didn’t think Mickey would turn down an opportunity to get high.
He had been studying for two hours straight and he needed a break. Everyone was downstairs, in the living room, talking and laughing, but Ian didn’t want to join them. Lip was there too and he couldn’t even look at his face ever since they started fighting. Lip reminded Ian everything he wasn’t.
Smart.
High-achieving.
Everyone’s first choice.
His phone pinged a couple of seconds later.
Meet me under the L.
And that was all it took for Ian to forget about Lip. He ran down the kitchen’s stairs, grabbed some beers from the fridge and yelled, “I’m going out!” before shutting the door behind him.
Mickey was sitting under the L, a couple of blocks away from Ian’s house, with his back against a wall.
“Hey,” Ian said, sitting next to him, nudging his shoulder with his arm.
“What are you smiling for?” Mickey asked. “Did you start without me?”
“No,” Ian laughed. He pulled the joint out of his pocket and lit it up. “I’m just glad I got out of the house.” He took a long drag before passing the joint over to Mickey. “Were you busy?” he asked, opening up a beer.
“Nah, I was just jerking off,” Mickey confessed, inhaling the smoke.
Ian almost choked and started coughing when beer came out of his nose. “Fuck,” he said, wiping his face with his t-shirt. There was a drop of beer running down his neck, which his sloppy wipes didn’t catch, and Mickey wanted nothing more that to lean down and catch that drop with his tongue. And as if Ian heard him he leaned down, a few inches away from Mickey’s mouth, looked into his eyes and asked, “Can I kiss you?”
Mickey wanted to. At that time he wanted to, more than ever, but he turned his head the other way and brought the joint to his lips, sucking in the smoke. Ian nodded. They weren’t there yet.
“Did you finish?” Ian asked and ran his hand over Mickey’s jeans, cupping his crotch. Mickey’s breath hitched and he covered Ian’s hand with his own.
“Not here,” he said looking at Ian. “Later.”
“I can’t later,” Ian said, taking his hand off. “I’ve gotta get back and study.”
“Tomorrow then,” Mickey promised. “At the store.”
“Lunch break?” Ian smiled.
“Breakfast,” Mickey replied, grinning.
They finished their beers and they parted, both going their own ways. That was the first time Mickey hung out with him, without it including sex, a handjob or a blowjob. Ian liked it.
The whole way home he was thinking of how different everything was now. There were some small changes, but Ian noticed them.
Mickey wasn’t scared to be seen with Ian anymore. They were even working together.
Mickey wanted to hang out with him.
Mickey was talking to him about different things.
Mickey was smiling at him.
Nothing could go wrong that summer. Ian felt like he had a second chance at this and he wouldn’t screw it up. There was no Kash that summer. Everything would be fine.
***
Of course nothing was fine. And all because Ian was Frank’s son. And even though he wasn’t biologically related to Frank, it didn’t matter.
Whatever change Mickey had managed that summer, it was all gone. All because of Frank. Because Frank caught them fucking, because Frank joked about it, because Mickey was afraid Frank would say something about what he saw.
Ian would say anything to calm Mickey down, but it didn’t matter. It was as if the universe was punishing Mickey for being more open with Ian. That what he was doing was wrong.
Mickey was in prison again. And all because Ian was Frank’s son. And even though he wasn’t, it didn’t matter.
Ian didn’t visit Mickey in prison that time.
***