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Mickey had taken Svetlana as his wife, Ian had left for the military under Lip’s name and though he had returned and the two had once again reunited there was a certain distance between them now. A certain unspoken apology between the two of them, a certain irony in that after everything they were exactly back to where they started, secretly fucking late at night at the old base ball field.
“Not gonna lie Gallagher” Mickey huffed, as rebuttoned his jeans. “You’ve been better” he spoke between pants, the two of them still regaining their breath. Ian rolled his eyes but finished redressing himself as well.
“Yeah well I’ve been feelin’ pretty shitty for the past few days, Mick” Ian explained as the pair started making they’re way home.
“Yeah?” Mickey quirked a brow. “You mean like you’re sick?”. Ian nodded and wiped at his nose.
“Yeah just a cold” Ian shrugged. Now that it was pointed out, it was hard not to notice. The tip of his nose was puffy, his voice revealed his slight conjestion. Of course, Mickey hadn’t really been paying attention to either of those minor details.
“I’m sure the Gallagher clan will take care of ya” Mickey shrugged casually. Ian smiled fondly at the idea.
“Not tonight” Ian sighed and shook his head. “Deb, Carl, and Liam are spending the night at Sheila’s. Lip’s there too, taking care of Karen, and Fiona’s screwing her boss” Ian explained,and immediately felt a skeptical stare from Mickey. “….What?” Ian asked, glancing down at Mickey with a small, curious smile.
For a moment, Mickey just continued to stare, brows raised harshly. “You’ve got the house to yourself and we’re out here fuckin’ in the dug-out?” he shook his head. “Dammit it Gallagher” he added gruffly. But his foul attitude only brought a small smile to Ian’s lips as always. Mickey could be hard to read but Ian had learned to see through his angry semblance that seemed to be a constant facade.
Soon enough they reached their home streets, first crossing the Gallagher house, though Mickey’s was only a short walk away. Ian stopped just outside the fence but Mickey only continued a few more steps before feeling Ian’s gaze on his back.
“Can I help you Gallagher?” Mickey asked, looking back over his shoulder at him. Ian bit his lip for a moment, glancing back and forth between his house and Mickey.
“Nah” he shook his head. “I’m fine” he went on, making sure to add a sniffle here and there between words. Mickey could tell by Ian’s slight pout and longing stare, exactly what Ian was getting at.
“No.” Mickey said flatly, glancing at the house and shaking his head in refusal. Ian held back an amused chuckle and instead slumped his shoulders.
“c’mon Mick” he sighed, “I feel like shit” he groaned. Mickey rolled his eyes but couldn’t help remembering the times Ian had taken care of him, had volunteered even when Mickey didn’t want him there, persisted on lending a hand, cared too much to walk away. A deciding silence passed before Mickey spoke again.
“Soup, Gallagher” he said gruffly. “I will make you soup, then we’re even. Got it? I’m not tuckin’ your ass in, I’m not reading you a goddamn bedtime story” he said and reluctantly stalked back towards the house.
Ian smiled as he walked inside, but kept quiet, he didn’t want to push it. Mickey’s compliance was surprise enough, he didn’t want to test just how easy it would be to make him change his mind. Ian flicked the lights on as Mickey shut the door behind them.
“No, shut the fuck up” Mickey breathed when Ian looked back at him, a playful look in his eye. “Go upstairs, I’ll meet you up there” he sighed, and continued towards the kitchen to find something quick and easy to cook.
Up stairs, Ian slipped his shirt off and tossed it aside before crawling into bed. He smiled, thinking about Mickey cooking, let alone Mickey down stairs cooking for him. In that moment it all seemed perfect. It was simple, and he was happy to forget everything that had happened before, happy to forget that Mickey had a pregnant wife at home, at least for tonight. It was selfish maybe, and a part of him wanted to tell Mickey to go home to Svetlana but he wouldn’t, not tonight. Tonight he would be selfish and keep him to himself, for as long as Mickey would allow.
About ten minutes later Ian could hear Mickey walking up the stairs and down the hall.
“Hey you didn’t burn the house down” Ian mused excitedly when Mickey entered the room, holding two steaming bowls. Mickey glanced down for a moment, concealing his small grin.
“Not yet” he warned, and handed Ian a bowl of Mac ‘n Cheese.
“You said soup” Ian protested, simply to give him a hard time, as always.
“I lied” Mickey answered flatly and took a seat on the edge Ian’s bed. “You don’t look sick to me” he added, looking Ian over skeptically. He did look a little unwell, but nothing that required nursing.
“Thats ‘cause you’re taking such good care of me” Ian teased sarcastically. Mickey laughed quietly under his breath.
“Don’t get used to it” Mickey shook his head. “Just eat, so I can get the hell out of here” he added, though in all honesty he wasn’t in much of a rush to leave. They both knew that, despite what he said. Ian had learned early on that he had to look deeper than Mickey’s words. The first couple weeks, before Ian knew better, he was baffled at how cold, distant and harsh someone could be at all times. Things had definitely changed over the years. Of course Ian had learned to read Mickey, but Mickey had softened as well at least when he was around Ian, though he’d never admit it.
“Whats the rush?” Ian quirked a brow and scooched to the side of his bed, making more room for Mickey, who hesitated a moment before sitting beside him. Mickey was quiet as he thought for a moment, thought about going home. Home, where Svetlana would be waiting, surely wondering where he disappeared to this time. Home, where Ian wasn’t. He wasn’t in a rush, that was for sure, so he just kept quiet, choosing to ignore the question. Ian knew exactly what his silence meant, and it brought a small smile to his lips as the two of them enjoyed they’re food.
Mickey’s meal was gone quickly, and he let out a small burp as he placed the empty bowl on the floor. He looked back to Ian with a cheeky grin, knowing full well he had a drop of cheese on his lip.
“Mick, stop” Ian laughed when he saw it. Mickey’s smile grew when Ian laughed.
“Stop what?” he twitched a firtatious brow. Ian shook his head lightly
“C’mer” he sighed and scooched closer, brushing the cheese off Mickey’s lower lip with his thumb. They’re laughter faded for a moment,when they’re eyes met.
“I’ve gotta go” Mickey swallowed and turned away, to stand. Ian sighed in a mixture of dissappointment and frustration. He hated how Mickey did this, constantly pulling away in moments of actual intimacy.
“Why?” Ian asked tiredly.
“Places to be” Mickey said, Ian knew an answer of the sort was coming, still it didn’t taste any less bitter when it came.
“Right” Ian muttered, a small cough escaping him. “Take your bowl down to the sink” he told him. Mickey didn’t say anything, but shot ian once last glance before he left. The look in his eyes was almost apologetic, very apologetic if you knew what to look for. But that was far from enough to settle Ian’s mood. He was sick of this distance. Even now, after all they’ve been through, he wasn’t enough to keep Mickey here with him. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever be enough. But he didn’t want to think about that tonight, instead he slept, hoping he’d feel better in the morning.