Chapter Text
It was within 3 hours since Mickey’s release from jail that he found himself walking down a familiar street. It was obvious, really in the end. They couldn’t hold him for much longer. They didn’t have proof, they didn’t have witnesses, they just had the ravings of Sammi Gallagher who had been picked up for chasing Mickey down the street with a gun. It was fuck all to go on and everyone knew it.
He walked heavily down the street, the same street he had ran down whilst been shot at by the crazy Gallagher (one of many crazy Gallaghers) and came to a stop outside a familiar looking house. He looked up at the old door before sighing and gritting his jaw.
Mickey would never have called himself a proud man, but grovelling was not something high up on his list. His ego, though not as big as some people assumed, was about to take a big hit as he readied himself to beg, plead even, for someone to come back to him.
Running up the stairs to get this over with, he banged heavily on the door. Kev answered. He was surprised to see Mickey, assumed he’d be banged up for good this time. Mickey brushed it off with a mumble and asked, “Svetlana here?”
Kev gave him a “Yeah, man” and stepped back to shout Svetlana to the door. She appeared 10 seconds later with a sleeping Yevgeny on her shoulder. Mickey stared at the little boy’s face before looking up at his wife. She only seemed mildly surprised to see him. Mickey noticed her hair was shorter. It suited her.
It only took Mickey 15 minutes to convince Svetlana to leave the Balls and come back to live at the Milkovich house. She remained silent, staring intensely as Mickey reeled off everything he had to offer to make her come back, but it was when he said he wanted to get to know Yevgeny, wanted to be a real Father, her expression thawed and she nodded her head.
“Yes,” she said simply. “We come back.”
And that was it. Svetlana moved back home the same day and Mickey got to hold his son while she unpacked.
It didn’t take long for either of them to get into a routine. The three of them were the only ones living there now, with Iggy making an occasional appearance, but he was harmless enough. Mickey took over a lot of tasks when it came to Yev, including changing his diapers, bath time and getting him dressed in the mornings. Svetlana even let Yev sleep in Mickeys room every other night. Though Mickey found he didn’t sleep much those nights, too busy staring at his sleeping son with his heart aching fondly in his chest.
It was a year later, when Yev was only 3 that Svetlana began acting strange. She was moody, moodier than usual and was snapping at Mickey more than he liked.
“The fuck is your problem?” Mickey had asked weeks later. Svetlana had shouted at Yevgeny for jumping from the couch to the armchair over and over again for the last 30 minutes and that shit just doesn’t fly around Mickey.
“Baby is being annoying!” Svetlana snapped and Yevgeny dropped heavily onto the armchair with his little bottom lip sticking out.
“Hey,” Mickey hissed, taking Svetlana by the arm and pulling her over to the kitchen, out of earshot of the sulking 3-year-old. “I don’t care how pissed off you are; you don’t shout at the kid. Got it?”
Svetlana huffed and nodded and for the time being Mickey let it drop, until one night Svetlana snapped when Mickey forgot to give Yev his bath. It was ridiculous and over the top and Mickey stood there bemused as Svetlana rant and raved about what it meant to be a good parent.
Eventually her tirade stopped and Mickey was left standing in front of a sobbing Svetlana, whose face was hidden behind her hands. If Mickey was uncomfortable before he was unbearably so now. After some awkward coaxing from Mickey, Svetlana finally spilled the beans on what had been bothering her.
Apparently people had been making comments down at the Alibi, where Svetlana had been working behind the bar for the past year. It wasn’t great pay but as long as she didn’t have to suck any more dicks for 10 bucks a pop then both she and Mickey were happy with it. The comments were all about how Svetlana had managed to dupe Chicago’s big, bad, gay boy into not only raising her baby but paying for it too.
According to the local winos and alcoholics, no-one believed Mickey could be the real Father. It was most likely Terry’s. At first the comments and jokes hadn’t bothered her, but then Vee had asked her who she really thought Yev’s dad was.
“He is yours!” Svetlana cried. “I know it.”
Mickey gently put his hands on Svetlana’s shoulders. “You’re right. He is. He’s my son. It doesn’t matter what DNA says, he’s mine.”
Svetlana had torn away from and growled in frustration. She stormed off before Mickey could utter another word. It was a few weeks later that Mickey found out that Svetlana had ordered for a DNA test. He didn’t know where she got the money for it and he didn’t ask either. He just stared at Colin who came home from visiting Terry in the can, with a hand full of hairs.
“How the fuck did you-“
“Fucker’ll never hug me again that’s for sure.” Colin grinned, looking accomplished with himself as he gave the grey hairs to Svetlana who put them in a clear plastic bag marked Terry Milkovich.
Next she took a long cotton bud and told Mickey to open wide. He did and she swabbed the inside of his cheek. She then put that in a separate bag which was clearly marked Mickey Milkovich. She swabbed herself and repeated it on Yevgeny who giggled at the tickling sensation.
Without another word she sealed each bag into a large brown envelope with an address written in blue ink. She calmly walked out the door and no more was said about it.
It took 10 days for the results to come back. Mickey tried not to think about it. Tried not to let it bother him that he was going to find out if the little boy who followed him everywhere like a lost duckling was his son, his brother or a stranger’s child. The thought of Terry being Yevgeny’s father made his stomach twist. Svetlana had sworn that she had only had sex with Terry after she found out she was pregnant, but really that didn’t make it any better. He wanted his son nowhere near the sickness that was his father.
Mickey was playing with Yevgeny on the floor in front of the couch, building blocks into boats and pretending to crash into each other and sink. Yevgeny was giggling like mad when Svetlana had walked in the house and checked the mail lying in front of the door that Mickey hadn’t bothered to pick up. She scanned one envelope and then the next. When she reached the third, she put the rest on the coffee table and calmly opened it. She didn’t say anything or even look at the letter, she simply held it out in front Mickey so he could see it in her hands.
There was a diagram with Childs Name: Yevgeny Milkovich and Alleged Father’s name: Terry Milkovich. Probability of paternity: 0%
And beneath that was another diagram with Childs Name: Yevgeny Milkovich and Alleged Father’s name: Mickey Milkovich. Probability of paternity: 99.999%
He glanced up at Svetlana who raised an eyebrow, not even needing to look at the paper to be confident. Mickey gave her a nod and she returned it before folding the paper into thirds and sliding it into a draw in the cabinet just to the side of the living room.
Mickey went back to playing with Yevgeny but found it hard not stare at the little boy who happily and obviously continued to ram his ‘boat’ against the coffee table. Mickey was almost in awe. This kid, this fucking amazing kid was his. His to love and be loved by and no one could take that away from him. Without thinking about it, Mickey grabbed Yev by his armpits and hoisted him into his lap. Yev laughed, like the happy little fucker he always was and hugged Mickey tightly when Mickey pulled him to him.
“Silly Papa,” Yevgeny whispered patting his tiny hand onto the top of Mickey’s head.
Yeah. Papa. That’s who he was.
Three months later, Mickey opened the door to Ian Gallagher standing on his porch. He’d seen him around on the street here and there over the past year or so, but they’d never spoken, never acknowledged each other, so to say that Mickey was surprised to see him now was an understatement.
Mickey let him in after only a brief hesitation and they sat themselves on the couch while Yev sat in front of the TV staring intently at the big blue alien thing dancing and singing the alphabet. Svetlana was always going on about how he would ruin his eyesight sitting that close but Mickey did it when he was a kid and it never did him any harm.
He and Ian sat in silence for a good minute before Ian cleared his throat and began talking. His voice was soft and he sounded… sad? He first asked how Mickey was, what he was up to these days. Mickey answered, told him about the garage he worked at on the mornings during the week before Svetlana went to work in the afternoons so someone was always home with Yev. He told him a little about Yev too, but not much. He kept most of it to himself. It was private, between him and his son and no one else.
Ian seemed interested, smiling when Yev was brought up. Mickey knew Ian saw Yev sometimes. Whenever he went over to visit the Ball twins Ian sometimes made an appearance to see him. Svetlana had told him. It had annoyed him at first but he soon got over it.
The conversation didn’t take long to move to the reason Mickey knew Ian was here. Their relationship. It started with Ian apologising. Apologising for the way he had treated him. His cold feelings when he broke up with him, for the fact that he did break up with him. For punching him. For all the mean things he said and did when he should have known better.
Mickey sat quietly while Ian reeled off a list of all his sins when it came to Mickey. The affairs, the anger, the downright disrespect. Eventually Mickey held his hand up and halted Ian’s words.
“Why are you here, Ian?” Mickey asked.
“T-to apologise.” Ian looked confused for being interrupted.
“That’s all?”
Ian shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you… are you seeing anyone?”
Mickey inhaled deeply. “No. You?”
“No,” Ian replied. He looked around the room, not able to meet Mickey’s eye. “I had been though.”
“Oh yeah?” Mickey replied, not even the littlest bit surprised.
“Yeah. A fireman.”
“Nice. So how long where you together?”
Ian shrugged, eyes planted on the ground in front of him, his whole body turned away from Mickey. “7 months, or so.”
“Long time.”
“Yeah.”
Mickey let the silence stretch just to watch Ian squirm. Eventually he asked, “When did you guys break up?”
Ian seemed to steel himself, his shoulders tensing and his fingers locking with each other. “2 weeks ago.” It was a whispered confession.
Mickey nodded. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
Ian was startled. He looked up at Mickey quickly and said, “Mickey, wait!” He stammered out that, that wasn’t what he was here for. He’d known for a long time what a mistake he’d made letting Mickey go. He wasn’t here for a rebound.
Mickey brushed it all aside and sighed, fed up already with the drama. “I don’t want you here Ian.”
“Well then. I’ll come back. And I’ll keep coming back until you do want me here.” He then walked out of the house, closing the door quietly behind him.
Ian made good on his threat and showed up once a month. Mickey let him in every time. Knowing it was pointless trying to argue with him. Sometimes they talked and sometimes Ian watched Mickey playing with Yev with a soft smile on his face.
Sometimes Ian talked about the Gallaghers, how they were getting on now. Apparently Debbie had had a baby, but after trying to look after it for 3 months put it up for adoption. Mickey would have said he respected that decision, Debbie was too young and piss poor to raise a kid, but ever since Ian had told him Debbie once raped a boy to lose her virginity all respect for Debbie Gallagher went out the window.
Ian usually stayed for about 2 hours before heading out and then not showing up again until a month later. Mickey appreciated the length of time between each visit. If Ian started to force himself on Mickey more than that, then Mickey would begin to resent him.
It was six months later, Ian’s sixth visit that Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey while they had been watching the new Pixar movie Mickey had got on bootleg for Yev. Mickey’s first instinct was to shove him away, demand he leave, but the kiss was so quick and so innocent, Mickey allowed it to happen. It happened again the next time and then the next. Nothing was ever said. They kissed for last five minutes of every visit, with Yevgeny giggling in the background and making kissy noises.
Mickey never let Ian believe it was any more than the kissing and Ian didn’t seem to presume it was more, so Mickey was fine to let it continue.
Within the next year, Mickey wasn’t the only one to get a little bit of action. Svetlana had met some business guy who had come into the Alibi for directions one day and became infatuated with Svetlana. His name was Aaron and he worked for some swanky accountancy up in the Northside.
When Svetlana had told Mickey she was going on a date with this guy is first question was, “Aren’t you a lesbian?”
Svetlana simply rolled her eyes. “I have choice.”
“So you’re Bi?”
“Choice!”
And that was that. Mickey gave the guy a good grilling when he came to pick Svetlana up. He seemed decent enough but he had one test to pass before Mickey was going to let the guy anywhere near his family.
Every night it was Mickey’s job to tuck Yevgeny in bed. He brushed his hair from his son’s forehead. His hair was darker than it was when he was a baby but lighter than Mickey’s. It was caramel like Svetlana’s hair.
“What did you think of Mama’s friend?” Mickey asked smoothing down the bed sheets as Yev made himself comfortable.
“He’s nice,” Yev answered. “Funny too.”
That’s all Mickey needed to hear. “Good. Goodnight.”
“Night. Love you, Papa.”
“Love you too, baby.” Then Mickey kissed Yev on the forehead like he did every night.
Svetlana had been dating Aaron for 1 year and Yevgeny was aged 5 when she sat Mickey down in the living room. Her face white, her eyes red. Mickey chewed on his lip, wondering who he needed to kill but it turned out to be much worse than he was thinking.
Apparently Aaron’s firm had had a vacancy. Something with good benefits and a great salary. Svetlana had never thought in a million years that she would get it, but she did. Nepotism included girlfriends and boyfriends.
It made sense therefore, for her and Yevgeny to move in with Aaron, up in Northside. An hour and a half train ride away.
She spoke quickly, not giving Mickey time to think. “It will be good for Yev. He will go to good school. He will have big house and big garden. You can see him every weekend. It won’t be so bad. Aaron wants to marry me.”
It was coming so fast. The placating excuses and apologies. Mickey was numb. Except for his stomach which was tight and burning.
All he knew was, the one person in his life that was his, that he loved and who loved him back, was being taken away from him. And there was fuck all he could do about it.