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The son of a bitch actually fucking laughs. Lip laughs like Ian has just told a bad joke, then walks off to the living room to join the rest of his little family.
Carl screws his face up like he can’t understand the string of words Ian’s just said, as if they don’t make sense. “If Mickey made this, I made a perfect SAT score.”
Alright, it’s Carl. He doesn’t get most things.
Debbie hesitates feeding Franny her next bite, considering if what Ian’s just said is true or just her brother messing with her. It’s basically an insult in disguise, but she shrugs anyway.
“Fine, keep your secret, Ian. I thought we were friends!” Veronica shakes her head then smacks Kevin’s spoon away from her bowl.
Liam, the only brother Ian really likes if he’s honest, just nods and keeps eating. Bless him.
When Mickey finally gets to the Gallagher house, he’s greeted with a smile and a small kiss on the cheek from Ian. He catches the back of Ian’s neck to pull him in for a proper kiss, but is interrupted by the family turning to him with loud questions.
Ian rolls his eyes and leans against the wall by the bottom of the stairs.
“Ay, ay! Everybody fucking shut it! One at a time,” Mickey says, shrugging his coat off and throwing it on the back of the couch. He makes his way to the kitchen and starts grabbing a bowl and spoon.
Everyone follows right behind, hurrying to the kitchen like Mickey’s a Black Friday sale. Ian trails behind the bunch, ready to shut anything down if Mickey gives him a signal.
“Mick, c’mon, just tell us who made this chili.”
“Ian, right? It has to be”
“Nah, I bet it’s store-bought. No way it’s not,”
“Did you pay someone to cook it, or just take it right off their stove?”
Ian can’t listen to this anymore. “Alright, guys, Jesus. Just say you don’t think my husband can cook and go.”
“Is that what the fuck all this is about?” Mickey gestures to the rest of them with his spoon before digging into his own bowl of chili.
“Oh please, you expect us to believe–”
“I expect you to keep your prejudice to yourselves,” Ian says, giving them a damning look.
Lip snorts. “Dramatic, much? Look, it’s just surprising is all. It’s not out of the realm of possibility, yeah?”
“I’m surprised your dick was big enough to knock somebody up, but I kept that shit to myself,” Mickey shrugs.
Ian ducks his head and smirks.
“I know you’re gay, Mickey, but that’s not how that works. I can give you the talk later,” Lip says.
Mickey gives him a finger.
“How what works, mama?” Franny asks, tapping Debbie’s arm.
“You’ll find out when you’re older, Franny.”
“Yeah, sixteen, right?” Mickey seems amused by the double bird Debbie flips him, but less so when she threatens to throw Franny’s sippy-cup.
“Hey! Can we just drop this now?” Ian actually steps in between Mickey and where Debbie is at the kitchen table. “You guys asked and I answered. It’s not our fault you don’t believe it.”
There’s silence for a moment, everyone actually looking slightly ashamed.
“I like your chili, Mickey,” Liam says before going back to the living room to watch TV.
“Last time I’m cooking for you motherfuckers, so eat the fuck up and fuck you.”
Mickey leaves the kitchen out the back door, leaving his empty bowl.
“Real fucking nice, guys.” Ian follows after Mickey, hoping he hasn’t gone far.
He finds him on the steps, picking at the rotting wood.
“That’s how you get splinters,” Ian says, coming to sit next to him and pull him close.
“Probably hurt less than dealing with you people,” Mickey doesn’t shrug Ian’s hand off his shoulder but does let himself relax into his touch.
“What do you mean, you people?” Ian jokes a little, sighing when Mickey doesn’t crack. “I’m sorry they’re like that.”
“It’s not just them. It’s you sometimes too, when you think I don’t notice.”
“I’m sorry, Mickey.”
“I mean, I know it’s just habit. I don’t make it easy, but I figured after everything…”
“Easier to think the worst of people if that’s all you know,” Ian says.
“Ian, they literally helped me surprise you for our anniversary. How long we been together?”
“Starting from the first time we banged?” Again, he tries a joke like a fuckhead. “I’m not saying it’s right, Mick.”
Mickey sighs, exasperated. “What do I gotta do to make’em not think I’m the same old piece of shit? Not that I give a fuck what you Gallaghers think of me, but it’s fucking annoying.” And maybe Mickey doesn’t care, but it’s more likely he does. His eyes say he does.
“I get it, okay? They did it to me, acting all surprised every time I came out of a low without slitting my wrists like Monica. Hell, we do it to Lip every year he stays sober.”
Mickey doesn’t say anything to that. He thinks for a moment. They can hear everyone talking loudly in the kitchen, having moved onto something else.
“You know that’s what my mom used to make us?”
Ian shakes his head, putting his hand on Mickey’s and squeezing.
“She wasn’t the best cook, but she made a mean pot of chili when she wasn’t sticking a needle between her toes. One of the good memories I have of her.”
“You people are full of surprises,”
Finally Mickey grins a little. “The fuck you mean, you people?”
“Milkoviches,” Ian laughs.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey smiles, leaning in for that kiss he never got.